The Window
My Covid-19 story
April 2021. The second wave of Covid virus — Delta variant, was at its peak in India. The temperatures were scaling new highs every single day. I, along with my parents, were visiting my brother and due to nationwide lockdown, we were stranded there. A new & unknown city for us. And then, as fate would have it, my whole family & I detected positive for Covid. And if that wasn’t enough, I had been in a small accident just one day before where I had severely bruised my arms & legs.
So, there I was, fever touching at 102 F, with constant headache and body pain from Covid along with bruised arms & legs. The temperatures even at night would be around 95 F (35 C) and we had no air conditioner of any sort. Infact since we hadn’t planned for staying more than a week we did not bring much and my brother was living on rent, hence I was sleeping on a mat throughout the ordeal.
By 7th day when the fever won’t subside, I had to be hospitalized and my family was told to procure Remdesivir vials, an antiviral that was being used as a treatment. At that time Remdesivir was in extreme shortage as many people were trying to get the same. Infact it was being black-marketed then with prices as high as 100K ₹ (5k $ in terms of purchasing power) for a single vial whereas I needed 6!
So, my family started making calls contacting everybody they knew if they could get one. I too called my friends. And my shaky voice could tell the whole story. I was 23. This is not an age where one contemplates about death. But this was the first time I was faced with the possibility that I might not be able to make it. My brother showed real courage then. Fortunately, everyone in my family except me were vaccinated (I wasn’t due to age & priority restrictions by the Government of India at the time) and to this day I thank God for it every time I remember the ordeal. So, everyone except me were doing really good.
Mortality has a way of clearing your priorities. Everything that I thought important or cared about — Job, Money, Dreams, Love (infatuation), Goals…. nothing mattered. There’s just a single driving force that echoes through your heart & brain, bringing them together and that is to survive.
Live!
There was a window besides my bed, in the hospital. I could watch the road from the hospital surrounded by houses & trees that led to a busy intersection. I could see as the people went about their day. Oblivious and blissful to all the troubles and praying going inside. It was as if the window separated the happy from the unfortunate and all I could do was watch.
Now by God’s blessing I recovered but it changed me. Earlier I was like any guy in his twenties, dreaming about things, about what could be. But now, I’m a glass half empty kind of person. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve plenty of optimism but now I cannot ignore but see the sharp realities of life. I’ve become pragmatic. Anger & frustration do not reside in me anymore as I don’t find them useful. If somebody disappoints me then I just cut them off or change their relative importance in my life. I no longer crave for fleeting things that I don’t see myself doing in the long run. I’ve become more analytical, more thoughtful & always worried about what the right decision would be. I’m over cautious and over-thinking’s my new friend.
I’m kinder than before not due to emotion but rather through understanding. Most of my peers are enjoying as today’s generation would - Drinking and smoking and living as if there wasn’t a care in the world. But if someone would ask me about my idea of happiness, it would be to sit under a starry night and think about life or have a deep conversation with someone I love. Peace matters more to me than sudden bursts of highs that my peers & colleagues prefer.
Even my writing changed. I used to write more about things like music, art or emotions filled with euphemism and mixed metaphors about life. But now it’s more analytical like finance, politics or something that is quantifiable and not abstract. Something that can be dissected, broken down and explained.
Now I do not know, if I was made into this because of my harrowing experience of covid or if I just grew up and became an adult. A bit of both, I think. But sometimes I feel I’m back at hospital, watching others from the window. It’s as if some part of me is still trapped there. The window has become a symbol for me, separating me from my peers and my friends. All I can do is watch them live their naive, blissful lives!
