The Girl with Yellow Shoes

Disclaimer:

I never wanted to write another blog about Covid. I’ve been told I milked it for all that it was worth. That’s not a lie. Furthermore, I think it doesn’t generate any positive energy, but here we are again, with me writing the one blog I never wanted to have to write.

You know that pothole in the middle of road that full of water after two minutes of rain fall? Yes, the same one that you swerve a lil bit to avoid. But gosh, it was bigger and deeper than you thought and you had to apologize to your car after and pet the dashboard and promise to be better next time?

You know it ent?

That’s Covid. You’d never actually know how it really is until you try to avoid it and realise you couldn’t.

638 days.

That’s the length of time we were successfully able to keep the virus away from our home. In that time, we changed our routines, limited movements, sanitized, came home and jumped in the shower. I never thought we were above the virus, but I always felt that we tried our best to protect my granma and granpy.

But on the 639^th day, the virus came home, affecting the one person who didn’t go anywhere to begin with- my granma.

I was in the car when the doctor came back with the results. I took a deep breath but from the look on her face, I know we didn’t have to ask whether it was positive or not. I had no reaction. Neither did mommy. Nor did granma. I texted my sister, “positive.” I was still holding my breath while we all went into auto-pilot mode.

While the rest of us tested negative, we knew our situation was different. Granma is 78 with a list of comorbidities: heart, hypertension, diabetes. On a normal day, she is dependent on us to help her with the little things. On paper, they stack up- they stack up against her. So I continued to hold my breath.

Thankfully, the rest of us tested negative but we all went into quarantine especially aware that we couldn’t isolate her because she would still need our help. We called the pharmacy, told them the situation, they bagged the meds and my uncle dropped it off for us along with fever grass. He hung it on the gate. My aunty bought our market stuff and dropped it by the gate. Our Vitamin C ran out- my bestie dropped for us without stepping foot in the house. Some of my students dropped off food. I sent my grocery list to another aunt who dropped off with the bill in the bag. Another one of my aunties dropped off cough meds for granma as well. In a matter of twenty minutes, we went from being independent to fully dependent on others to get us everything from the outside.

The first four days of being positive, the only symptoms granma showed was a cough.

But I still held in my breath.

We were panicked and stressed- not because symptoms were bad- but we knew that it could get bad. And that’s exactly what happened on the fourth night.

I didn’t sleep because she kept waking up. She would walk up the stairs and I would hear her grunting with pain. She couldn’t sleep. She kept saying a bunch of incoherent things and I didn’t know what to make of it. But I didn’t know what to do so I waked with her and made sure she was okay. When I woke up in the morning after Mommy relieved me to get some sleep, I would find out she was so weak that she couldn’t stand on her own. She wasn’t drinking enough fluids. She wasn’t hungry.

We were panicked and stressed. I held in my breath a little longer.

Feeling completely helpless, we called a doctor to try to give her some drips. We took her to his office and it was there we learnt that she had a very high fever that would have accounted for her deliriousness the night before. She was given drips, painkillers, antibiotics and we were told her oxygen levels were dropping.

At that point, I felt like someone punched me in my gut causing me to exhale the breath I was holding in for so long. In that moment, I thought the outcome of this experience would be grim. Honestly, even my prayers couldn’t prevent me from thinking the worst. And it wasn’t that I wanted that to be the outcome. Never. It was because death, grief and suffering envelopes us every day and I didn’t want to be in denial. I felt chilled, cold and afraid for the next four days.

I couldn’t sleep. I asked granpy to jharay me. Didn’t work. I popped a Benadryl to sleep. That provided temporary relief. Every time the fever spiked, my fear spiked as well- doubling and tripling even. I started back holding in my breath. I couldn’t see the end of it. Everyone told us after the 10^th day, it would get better. I was counting it down but I felt it couldn’t come quickly enough.

Although we got the oxygen tank in case of emergency, gave the prescribed meds, ensured she ate and had enough fluids, I felt I still couldn’t breathe. I felt like if I did exhale, she would take a turn- a turn for the worst. Again.

The fever came and went for three days. As predicted, from the tenth day, we got some ease. I was able to breathe a little. I’m not sure I could breathe because I held the day 10 as a marker in my mind or because I actually saw the improvement in her face. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

Today is day 16 from the first sign of symptoms and day 14 from the positive test. But I have hope that the worst is behind us- it is that hope which allows me to sit and write this.

For reference, these are some of the things we did:

• Daily temperature checks and oximeter readings
• Drink fever grass and virvine (the roots), garlic, ginger, onion tea as hot as possible with honey as a sweetener
• No air-condition. Open windows as much as possible.
• Wear masks all day
• Sanitize everywhere. We had a sanitizing gun into which we used rubbing alcohol and sprayed everywhere.
• Soak all dishes in hot water for at least half hour before washing. If possible, use sanitary plates.
• Have a small oxygen tank on standby
• Take Vitamin C, D3 and zinc daily
• Drink a lot of fluids
• Try to get some sunlight and exercise
• Even if you’re not able to taste or smell, still try to eat all your meals.

When people tell you that this is the worst thing that they’ve ever been through, believe them. It’s not only tough for the sick person- but everyone else too- that constant roller coaster of panic, worry, frustration- a rise and repeat cycle.

I’m not trying to be political, but I can say with certainty, I know in my heart that our situation would have turned out differently had granma not been vaccinated. In the midst of it all, I know that I am one of the lucky ones to be able to tell a story with a happy ending- many persons weren’t that lucky. I know that we were lucky to be surrounded by persons who always checked in on us- not just granma- but checked in on us- because they recognized that being in quarantine and being on this roller coaster is never easy. I also know that we were so lucky to have a group of persons willing to run errands, buy meds, drop food at just a moment’s notice. If you did any of those things for us, thank you. Thank you so much. We are forever grateful.

To those who will be spending this holiday season missing someone or on this roller coaster of emotions, here’s sending hugs your way.