What it feels like to have a loved one survive Covid-19
Exactly a month before Covid-19 was declared a pandemic, my family and I left Hong Kong to go to Dubai to stay with our grandparents and relatives. We saw this as an excellent opportunity to stay for a while with our grandparents and finally visit Dubai in winter (SO MUCH MORE WORTH IT THAN GOING IN SUMMER!!!). While our original plan was to stay two weeks, it got cancelled, and we decided to extend our stay for an additional few weeks because the schools in Hong Kong didn’t seem to be resuming classes anytime soon.
That might have been the worst decision of our lives.
Yes, in that extended stay, we did get a private villa with our private swimming pool at an excellent price at Cove Rotana Resort where my family of 7 and I had an excellent time. The family bonding, the roasts, the food, the beaches and water sports was bloody brilliant. I will want to do it all over again with them.
But then… that was all. It was only those three days that were to remember in that extended stay. Other than that, it was pure stress. I had to take my board exams (The Hong Kong Diploma of Secondary Education), originally scheduled to be on 2 April 2020. So when the government announced sudden mandatory 14-days home quarantine starting 19 March 2020 we rushed to find any flight available to reach Hong Kong before 19 March midnight. To our disappointment (but not surprise), we only got two tickets, one for myself and the other for the family member who got infected with the coronavirus during that plane ride back to Hong Kong.
On 21 April 2020, the Hong Kong Government announced that the Hong Kong Diploma of Secondary Education (HKDSE) had been postponed by an entire month. Just like everyone else, I was frustrated. But then at least it bought us more time to study for our exams. It didn’t make much of a difference for me though I still started my revision a week before my exams began (guilty whoops).
Just 7 days after that, the family member who flew back to Hong Kong with me losing the sense of smell, which was a new symptom that had been recently discovered at the time. Right then and there, I advised my loved one to rush to a nearby hospital to get tested. The doctors said if you receive an SMS message, you have been tested negative. Whereas, if you receive a phone call, you would be informed that you have the coronavirus.
From the second he got back home from the hospital, we all anticipated for an SMS message. We were like 14-year-olds waiting for their crush to reply to their text. Every notification bell. Every chime. Every time he picked up his phone (which was every 1 minute) was to check if he had gotten the most important SMS of his life.
Unfortunately, it was a call.
I couldn’t help but blame myself for all of it. If I weren’t so determined to get over my DSEs this year, maybe this all wouldn’t have happened. Oddly, however, I saw this coming because he chose to take off his mask for the most time in the airport while I wore two thick ones. Thinking that this was just a whatever was equivalent to digging up your own grave. I convinced myself that so I wouldn’t have to feel the guilt people were making me feel. Because really, it was not my fault or my choice that he took off his mask. I told him not to. But then, no need to listen to me, I am just an annoying teen who overthinks.
For the first two weeks, I had the health department calling me every morning, forcing me to go to unhygienic quarantine camps even though I tested negative for Covid-19. The frustration, stress and trauma was surreal. I was threatened to have the police called on me just because they wanted people for science experiments. I successfully fought my way into staying home. I was in 4 walls (literally) for over a month and a half. I did not go out. Did not see daylight other than that from the window and stayed indoors binging every show on Netflix that I found appealing and cringy. I stopped blaming myself in all the me-time I got.
Living alone for the first week was great. But then it got boring. It was during that time I learnt the most about people. Especially my friends whom for some reason never had the time to call me, or to check up on me, not even for 5 minutes. As if the hurt of having a loved one in the hospital for a deadly virus wasn’t enough. But then, I let it slide. I had better things to do. I learnt to cook some fantastic food, binged so much Netflix and prayed every single day that may God reunite me with my direct family as soon as possible.
Every single day for one month, I lived in fear. Fear that a stupid virus will kill my loved one and shatter my family into pieces in a matter of seconds. When paramedics came to our apartment to take him to the hospital where he was in isolation for a month, my legs were shaking — shaking in fear and panic that I may never see him alive again. I mean this disease managed to kill over hundreds of thousands of people; my nervousness was understandable.
He had tests done five times a week. For 4 weeks, all those tests came out as positive. It’s scary. Is it a sin to tell a white lie to a sick person? Telling them, it is okay, and that everything will be alright even when you know there is a fair chance it won’t.
There was nothing we can do. No money. No power. No connections. Nothing. Nothing could’ve immediately given us a negative test result. Our only way out was to have faith. Our only possible treatment was our prayer when anti-viral drugs just seemed to make him sicker.
Our prayers worked.
Although he was one of the lucky survivors of the virus, it did not change the fact that this was the scariest month of our lives. It was stressful. Everything was pure stress. No part of all of it was anything other than stressful.
While many people around the world are fed up of being locked in their homes with their siblings, parents, partners, etc., all I want is to be reunited with my annoying family whom I love very much.
Like any story, this also has its silver lining. For me, it was that I got closer to God. I had time to reflect on myself, my relationships, my life and my future. Other than doing a lot of cooking and Netflixing, I did a lot of thinking. And honestly, I learnt more about myself than I ever could’ve. For the first time in 18 years, I didn’t cry on my Birthday. Maybe because I learnt to love myself and not love what people had to offer me for me to feel loved. I had no expectations for my 18th Birthday, yet, it was the best Birthday I ever had. Alone, at home, with my cake and my family through the screen.
But if there is one main thing you can and should take away from my experience, it will be to take good care of yourself. Wear a damn mask, and for the love of God, keep your hands clean and sanitised at all times. If by now you haven’t realised this virus isn’t a joke. If you are fortunate enough to have soap and running water, please wash your hands frequently. These basic necessities are a luxury to many unfortunate people around the world.
Thank you for reading my sincerest and most personal story. May you and your loved ones be safe and healthy.
