I was one of the luckiest people in the world because I survived this pandemic and it is one of the scariest memories that I will not forget. That’s because even in its initial stage, it is very brutal. In this essay, I want to share my story, the story of a person affected by the coronavirus. I want people to take this situation seriously because others won’t be so lucky to come out the side alive.
My boyfriend and I have been trying to find out where we first came into contact with this pandemic, and we deem it was the evening we went out to celebrate his sister-in-law’s 40th birthday in early March. We went to a Mexican restaurant on Long Island that Friday evening, and we shared heaps of giggles and drinks. We took turns putting our straws into this mega margarita, passing it around the table. We didn’t remember anything about it at the time. The report was just starting to announce the spread of Covid-19 in America, so it wasn’t specifically of that much importance for me at that time. I was still enjoying and living my life to its full as usual—taking the train to work each day, working long hours, visiting friends and family, and, yes, sharing margaritas. Taking a look back now, I guess that must have been the source of it all.
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My boyfriend started exposing symptoms on Monday, but we thought it was a common cold. He works from home, so we thought it would just leave over in some time. He had body pains and a minor fever for five days, but it didn’t appear a reason for concern. Then it took me down.
I worked for a home-textile firm at the time, and even though reports about coronavirus were all around us, we proceeded to work as usual. In fact, we got twice as many shipments from China that week, as its plants were back up and eventually operating again. People in the office started to get something that looked like a cold virus, but most of them still kept coming to work.
My symptoms occurred after a week since my boyfriend had been ill. It all started with a moderate fever, about 99 to 100 degrees. I felt really sick, but I still continued to work. By the day’s end, I told my manager I had to leave. At this point, coronavirus had started to take over New York, so I was advised to work from home. On Tuesday, the headache began. It was so severe that I had to lie down—it was too painful to keep my head up. The pain was largely behind my eyes, like a very dense sinus headache. By the end of the week, I remembered something was off. This wasn’t what a regular sickness felt like. Everything burned. I felt a bit lost, and the headache became debilitating. My boyfriend and I concluded to seek medical guidance. My fever was only 100.6 degrees, but it seemed like my skin was being torn in opposing directions. That’s when I became really frightened. My knees, hands, and even my earlobes burned. My whole body shivered like it had fallen unconscious.
We moved to a nearby healthcare center, where I filled out paperwork and waited for the physician. After checking me, the doctor told me he was sure I would test positive for coronavirus, but provided me the choice to test if I needed to know for positive. He was convinced that I’d caught it from my boyfriend. I opted to be examined, but I didn’t get my results until a week later. After this shocking experience, I found that quick results are only given at the hospital. The test consisted of the doctor inserting a very long cotton swab as far up my nose as possible—it felt like it went to my forehead. He sent me home with directions to take Tylenol, but said there was nothing more he could do for me. He also emphasized the significance of staying hydrated.
That Saturday night was the absolute gravest. My fever went up to 101.8 degrees, and I couldn’t sleep. I was sweating lavishly, and my knees, hips, and back were in intense pain. Then I caught stomach pain and diarrhea. Strangely enough, the dry cough I caught only arrived at the very end. I was frightened that I’d be obliged to get medical help and that there wouldn’t be sufficient doctors, nurses, ventilators, or beds to assist me. I was terrified that there was no antidote and no vaccine.
But luckily, my fever eventually broke the next Wednesday. I went to bed that night, and the following day I waked to a normal 98.6-degree temperature that remained constant. It was such a comfort. Two days later, the doctor called me with the report that I’d tested positive for Covid-19. By then, I was feeling mostly healthy again, besides the lingering dry cough.
Thinking about the severe gone days, I really wish that people had taken this disease more seriously right from the start. I wish people realized how cruel this is, even when you get a ‘mild’ case, like mine. I understand they say the media blows things out of balance, but that’s not true with this. This was really sensitive, and we got so fortunate that we get recovered, that we survived.
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