COVID Diaries
II.I.II
COVID DIARIES
Over the next week, I was somewhat busier. I’d have days where I’d be assigned to do pre-ops (the boring same old, same old), others where I’d be expected to assist in surgeries (jackpot!), and I’d have on-call shifts every four days.
Only I didn’t quite get to do any of that. Just when I had started to get used to this new hospital, I was catapulted straight into a different trial – one that was completely out of my control and that seemed to derail my expectations for this rotation entirely.
It had been over a year since the COVID-19 pandemic had hit us. Throughout the whole ordeal, I’d gone through lockdowns, rounded on COVID-positive patients as both a student and a doctor, and had a multitude of high-risk encounters. Despite all this, I’d managed to get through unscathed. By that point, most of us had kinda let our guard down. Sure, we still took all the necessary precautions, but the fear surrounding the whole thing had started to die down, and most of us were pretty desensitised to it all.
Well, the universe sent me a kind reminder that COVID was still very much around, and that I was not immune to its ruthless contagion. Just like that, I became the latest victim in a long line of doctors sidelined by our friendly neighbourhood virus.
And so, without further ado, welcome to my COVID diaries:
I woke up from my daily siesta feeling febrile and weak. Am I still super groggy from my nap or am I actually sick? Nah, it can’t be. I never get sick in the middle of summer. Unless… oh god no. It can’t be. Nope. I’m not doing this. I’m gonna wake up, get off my ass, and go on with my life. I’m anything but a weak-ass punk!
Yeah… that’s not really gonna cut it. It seems like I have a cold. And the fact that I never get a cold during summer means… crap. This must be COVID. What am I gonna do? I just moved to Gozo. I just started my new rotation. What the hell am I gonna do?!
Oh my god… this is bad. This is really bad. I’m living with three other flatmates. I’m going around the hospital treating frail and vulnerable patients. Everyone I spoke to, came close to, touched… I could’ve infected them all. And if that’s not bad enough, I’d have to go into quarantine. Hell, my flatmates would probably have to quarantine too. The rest are gonna have to cover our shifts. Everyone’s gonna have to put their lives on hold because of me. Everyone’s gonna hate my guts. I feel dirty, disgusting, miserable, alone, guilty.
Okay, no use wasting more time. I can’t really do anything without knowing whether I actually have COVID or not. And for all I know, this might be a fluke. It could just be a common cold. I’m gonna have to suck it up and stop self-commiserating. I’m gonna lock myself up in my room and text the others…
I can’t say they were particularly supportive when I broke the news that I might have COVID. In fact, they voiced the same concerns I had already thought about, and I don’t blame them for it. Amidst all the chaos and arguments, we agreed I’d go for a swab.
I honestly don’t know why I feel so guilty about it, why I’m beating myself up so much. It’s not like I’ve been careless or neglectful. I’ve always taken all the necessary precautions. And I’m certainly not the first one to get COVID, if that’s what this is.
It’s been over a year since the pandemic started, yet this is the very first time I’m getting swabbed. I’m actually kinda nervous about it, especially after having swabbed thousands of patients myself…
Somehow, all sickly and feeble, I managed to get out of bed. I had my flatmates evacuate the common areas, doused myself and everything I touched in alcohol, and went ahead with my walk of shame.
Outside the hospital, I found my friend waiting for me, fully donned in PPE and ready to have a go at my nose with that devil stick. It hurt like a mother. It felt like a red-hot poker tearing straight into my brain – just in case you’ve never had one jammed up your nose. Then I went back to my flat and collapsed straight into bed.
We made a request for the swab to be processed urgently, yet somehow the result still wasn’t out. Guess we’d have to see about it tomorrow.
I woke up feeling worse. Headache, muscle pain, fever, sore throat, cough. You know, all the COVID stuff you can think of. But that’s not really my main concern right now.
My colleagues are all going cray-cray, especially my flatmates. Understandably so. I’m still awaiting my swab result (which should’ve been out by yesterday!), and on that hinges our lives for the upcoming two weeks. Everyone’s coming up with all sorts of contingency plans. I’m supposed to be at work right now, and worst of all, I should be on-call tonight – my first one at this hospital. Who the hell’s gonna help out on such short notice if I’m positive? Uuuuugh.
My friends keep checking to see if the result is out every other minute. My flatmates made themselves scarce. Some went back to Malta, some kept themselves entertained elsewhere, some were on-call. I’m thinking about getting re-swabbed. Having worked as a doctor throughout the pandemic, I know swabs get lost all the time. I can’t have the others waiting any longer.
I had another friend swab me, twice. Just in case, you know…
I was just told the second set of swabs won’t be processed, on account of the first one turning positive. I friggin’ knew it. My spidey senses were tingling from the very moment I woke up from my nap yesterday. Damn it.
I was called by public health officers who informed me about my mandatory fourteen-day quarantine – along with my other three flatmates. God, I would’ve killed me if I were them. Actually I wouldn’t, but still, they had every right to.
- What if I die? Why the hell did I start smoking again?!
My flatmates all moved back to Malta. That meant cutting their quarantine period down to just five days. It also meant they’d escape the leper.
At least now I feel a bit better knowing they’re safer in different households. And I can finally get out of my room!
I haven’t eaten anything in two days apart from a couple of cereal bars I’d stashed away. Not that I’m hungry, to be fair. I still feel like crap. But finally, I can get out of my cell. Into an even bigger one. Well, beggars can’t be choosers.
After my third nap, I’m actually starting to feel a bit better. Better enough to smoke a cigarette. I’m gonna have to start rationing them if I’m to be stuck in here for the next eleven days or so. I have seventeen left…
- As sick as I feel, I’m also bored out of my mind. I begged Wayne to let me help in any way I could, despite being locked up in my apartment.
The guilt and depression are slowly giving way to boredom. I’m gonna be stuck in here for another ten days. Ten friggin’ days! Ironic that if this had happened a few years back, I’d have considered being stuck alone in a room glorious – after all, it’s always been my comfort zone, my sanctuary. Hmm… that’s not a bad idea actually.
I might have just reverted to my old self. I haven’t felt this inspired in months. I can either waste this time, or I can be productive and do something I’ve been wanting to do for ages.
I decided to start my very own blog. I’ve been mulling it over for a long time. I’ve recently finished writing about my experiences throughout med school, so I might as well put it all out there. Then I can start adding journal entries from my doctoring days. And then whatever else I feel like doing.
I spent hours working on the damn thing. It wasn’t all in vain though. The website looks decent enough, and for the first time in a while, I’m actually doing something with my writing. This was my intention all along – to let other people in. It took one pesky virus to finally make me act on it.
It’s day five, and my flatmates are getting swabbed. I hope to god they’re all negative. I might die of guilt if any one of them gets sick because of me.
My pager can’t seem to stop ringing today. Every time I get a page, I have to delegate the work to another colleague, effectively doubling their workload. I hate this so damn much. I’m usually the one who offers help, not the one who asks for it. God, I’m gonna have to pay them back one way or another. They’re being way too kind.
I just remembered I have the MRCS Part A exam coming up in a couple of months. I’d completely forgotten about it since coming up to Gozo. Now seems like the perfect time to continue studying, huh?
A colleague insisted on bringing me food. I assured him I was doing much better and that I could cook and sustain myself – at least until I ran out of supplies. He dropped off a homemade chickpea burger with sides and a cookie. Tasted a bit salty – might’ve been my tears spilling over them though. There are still some genuinely kind people out there. No words can describe how grateful I am.
My friends are all COVID negative – woo-hoo! God, what a huge relief. I’m so glad. Plus, they can finally get out of quarantine, which means… wait!
I’m almost back to my baseline. That said, I barely had time to appreciate it. Ever since I found out my flatmates would be out of quarantine and back at the apartment, I moved heaven and earth trying to find somewhere else to stay. Luckily, hospital HR hooked me up with another flat I could use until the end of my quarantine.
My friends all went back to work. In the meantime, I disinfected the apartment as thoroughly as humanly possible and moved out. They should be fumigating it right about now so they can move back in once they’re done with work. Phew.
As good as I felt this morning, I can’t quite say the same after lugging all my belongings to the new apartment. Whilst I never had the stamina of a horse, I’d usually manage a couple of flights of stairs without getting winded. I guess this is the first time I’ve really stopped to consider the long-term complications I could potentially develop from COVID. I know plenty of patients who remained short of breath months after their infection…
My new place is comfortable. Small, but comfortable. It took a while to settle in, especially since unpacking everything drained me of all my energy and will to live.
I’m running low on cigarettes, something which some might misconstrue as a sign from the universe to finally quit smoking. I’ve got ten ciggies left. But hey, it’s just another eight days. I’ll be fine.
I’m 100% back in shape. Which means… I’m strong enough to do whatever I want, but I can’t on account of my quarantine. I’ll need to come up with some sort of routine if I’m not to go crazy this week.
I ordered groceries, made breakfast, and did laundry while dancing in my underwear to obnoxiously loud music. Now I’m gonna study for a couple of hours before lunch. For the second leg of the day, I’ll study some more and then journal a bit. I’ll finish things off with dinner, a shower, some Netflix, and a bit of bedtime reading before hitting the hay. Sounds like a solid routine, no?
I’m on a cigarette break and just realised I can actually see the sea if I lean precariously against the balcony railing. I can also see my neighbour’s panties, which could easily double as curtains.
I can’t study any longer. My eyes are begging me to close them. I think I might need to tape them open. Be right back.
It feels like I’ve already got everything down to a routine. The fridge is stocked, I’ve run out of dirty clothes, I’m ahead with my studies, and I’m nearly caught up with the show I’ve been bingeing.
The phone rings. A lady tells me to go downstairs to pick up a gift. My friends in Malta got me an Italian platter as a get-well-soon present. Man, I love them so much.
You know, I could get used to this. I’d grown used to being surrounded by people all the time, but I’m realising how much I needed some alone time. Guess there is a silver lining to this virus after all, huh?
Despite my astounding lack of company, I’m still managing to live vicariously through my neighbours’ constant arguments and bickering. Let’s just say he’s not too happy with her day drinking, and she doesn’t give a damn.
I guess I can say I’m now teleworking. I had to talk a patient through his colonoscopy and explain the procedure to his relatives over the phone, given that all the other junior doctors were busy.
I’ve gotten pretty good at rationing. I’ve managed to get four full meals out of that one platter. On the other hand, I just ran out of cigarettes.
You know, if I had another month of quarantine, I think I could ace this exam easily. I’ve been studying my butt off, mostly cause I have nothing better to do…
I just finished The Bold Type. My god, it’s simply incredible. Best show I’ve seen in ages. I’m talking Grey’s Anatomy and Gilmore Girls kinda good. Crazy! Trust me – stop reading, start binging! Also, the soundtrack is on point.
That same colleague from day 5 just dropped off another home-cooked meal for me. This time round it’s a mouth-watering quinoa and lentil salad with three different sauces. I think I might’ve found the love of my life…
Mr Vladimir paged me to go to the operating room as soon as possible. I was told he could be quite oblivious, but I didn’t expect him to be this oblivious. I’ve been away for nine days and I guess he didn’t even notice my absence.
My friend finally got me detergent for my clothes. I’m excited at the prospect of doing laundry with something that’s not hand soap. That’s the level of boredom I’ve reached. I’m being very productive, but I feel like I’m about to go nuts at any point.
Unfortunately, he forgot to get me cigarettes. You know what’s worse than quitting smoking? Having to quit smoking without wanting to. I’m already growing restless.
The other junior doctors are having their first barbecue today. I can’t say I don’t have any FOMO. I’m actually feeling lonely for the first time in ages. Whilst usually I’m a recluse by choice, this is starting to feel a lot like being grounded.
I spent a couple of hours video-chatting with anyone who would have me. Like I said… this close to going nuts!
I’ve finished the first season of Never Have I Ever and I’m well on my way to finishing Atypical.
I opened my blog less than a week ago and I’ve already been approached by the editor of an online narrative writing magazine. Maybe this could become more than just a hobby after all…
Oh. My. God. Those bloody church bells. I’m gonna pull a Luke and Lorelai and go destroy them. Only problem is, I still can’t go out. Grrr!
I can actually hear the entire mass through these walls. Call me Karen cause I wanna speak to the architect right now. A paper wall would’ve definitely been more soundproof. I need to focus!
I just got the most important delivery of all – cigarettes. My friend was nonplussed the second he saw me greeting him from the balcony – a bare-chested, jittery, quasi-hysterical wreck on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I felt like a proper junkie, not gonna lie.
As relieved as I felt at finally getting to smoke again, I have to admit I felt a bit ashamed of myself. Not only had I become so dependent on nicotine, but I could barely even focus on anything given how strong my withdrawals had become. As much as I enjoy smoking, I have to find a way to give it up. At some point. Okay. Fair enough. I have to find the will to give it up first. Maybe after my exam? Maybe…
I had to momentarily break quarantine rules to pick up my laundry from the middle of the street. The wind’s really picked up today!
A nurse paged me to berate me about not having shown up at her ward for more than a week. She insisted that patients deserve better and that we’re paid to do our jobs, not shirk our responsibilities. She even went as far as to threaten me with a formal complaint. When she finally gave me a chance to explain, she replied with a curt “Never mind then.” before hanging up.
Another house officer has fallen sick. Needless to say, he’s waiting to get swabbed. Needless to say, I’m afraid I might’ve started a chain reaction. Doesn’t feel nice being patient zero.
In just a week, I managed to cover as many topics as I usually would over a month. I finally get why some people abuse the sick leave system. Not justifying it, mind you.
I also wrote around ten thousand words in my journal. My eyes are so bloodshot I look as if I’ve smoked a kilogram of weed.
I’m doing so well with my studies that I decided to take an off day. Until I got so bored that I decided to continue.
I just had a video call with a pen pal I met over an online forum over twelve years ago. She recently got back in touch with me, and this is the first time we’ve spoken face to face – albeit virtually. She’s actually quite cute. And funny. And smart. I might have a little crush on her, to be honest.
I finished Atypical. Good show, good show. Is it time for another Grey’s Anatomy re-run, I wonder?
Now that I’m almost out of quarantine, I can fire up Tinder once again and start lining up some dates. Problem is, Gozo is so puny that the dating pool is smaller than a friggin bathtub.
I roasted some potatoes and nearly set the apartment on fire. It wasn’t so much the timer not going off as it was me not setting it in the first place. Oops.
My colleague’s COVID swab came back negative. Thank you, oh universe.
I can’t believe today’s my last day of quarantine. I thought it’d never come, and now that it did, I kinda wish it didn’t. I got used to this routine. I’m a couch potato again. A very productive couch potato.
I’m actually feeling a bit anxious about tomorrow. Going back to work… I have no idea what to expect. How much work I’ll have waiting for me. How my colleagues are gonna react. And all the meetings and administrative stuff I couldn’t do while away. Lord save me. And life in general too. I have to make up for all the time I spent stuck in here. I need to get back on track when it comes to keeping fit and tan, whilst keeping up my studying and writing routines. It’s not gonna be easy.
You know… I’m actually thankful for these two weeks. I’m proud of myself. So I guess… I owe it all to… COVID? Nah, you still suck.