THE LIFE OF A COVID WARRIOR

Amyrta Saini. Senior Matron. She hated her title. Uhh… senior matron conjured the looks of a matronly person with huge haunches and a waddling walk. Amyrta was lithe and slim, did her yoga regularly and was quite pretty in, well, an Amyrta sort of way.

She took a deep breath and started her scooty for the ride back home, after a 12 hour shift at the hospital. Her back ached, her entire being felt tired. She rode home in a daze. More than anything, she was feeling sad. The sadness that had gradually become a part of her being, for the past few weeks, working at the COVID hospital, seeing death and devastation in measures that one could only imagine. Amyrta realized she was sad at all times, but today was worse. Losing the 23 year old girl after a seven day struggle had really sapped her strength. That the girl’s 19 year old brother was barely maintaining on ventilator only worsened the gloom. UK strain, they were saying, as if that lessens the misery.

Amyrta kicked off her shoes and changed out of uniform in her outer room, as had been standard for the past month. She wore her mask, as she waved out to Rajat, maintaining social distance.

“I’ll go have a bath”, she said as she rushed into the bathroom, “Gotta wash off whatever germs I’ve brought from the hospital”.

Amyrta and Rajat had been childhood friends who had grown up together. They never knew when they had actually fallen in love, but it was always known that they would marry. Now happily married for five years, they were the only thing that maintained each other’s sanity.

Rajat, an LIC agent had borne the brunt of ‘working from home’, which was an impossibility for an LIC agent. It basically meant that he had been out of work for the past one year. He had always been happy-go-lucky, and if his sitting at home affected him, he never let it show. He was always cheerful and supportive and had seamlessly moved into the stay at home husband space. He would cook and clean, so that when Amyrta came home, she would always find a hot meal waiting.

She came out of the bath feeling even more tired and lonely. She felt a deep. Insatiable desire for sharing and companionship. She could not fight it.

“Lets eat together”, she said ditching the meticulous protocol they had followed for more than a month. “I can’t go it alone today. Just feeling lonely and depressed”.

Rajat smiled as he laid the table, setting their places together, making an intimate corner on the large-ish dining table. He too missed the togetherness, but would never mention it.

“Oh! You can’t imagine how bad today was”, she started recounting her day, as she always used to, till a month ago. They sat and chatted for more than an hour, feeling the bliss of togetherness, the warm, fuzzy feeling of love washing over them.

Later, Amyrta rested her head on Rajat’s shoulder. That night, they slept in the same bed after more than a month. Amyrta kept feeling apprehensive, sort of looking over her shoulder, as if she was stealing something. Rajat typically, said nothing and enjoyed the moment. Stretched out next to him, feeling his warmth, Amyrta, for the first time in weeks, forgot the wretchedness, the misery, the death and destruction. For the first time in weeks, she felt good.

She woke up with a start two hours later.

“NOOO”, she screamed, trembling, “No, No, No, No. How could I do it?” She got and wore her mask, jumped out of bed and ran to the other room.

She was acutely aware of the fact that she was vaccinated and Rajat was not. She loved him. How could she have been so callous, so stupid, so unfeeling, so… so selfish. She felt a panic attack coming on. Normally, Rajat would have comforted her and she would have been fine. But she had to go through this alone.

‘Take deep breaths Amyrta’, she told herself, ‘it’s ok. It’s not as if you have COVID, just a higher risk’. Gradually, the trembling stopped. She couldn’t sleep. Her lights were on and Rajat tried to peep in.

“I’m sorry Rajat. Please go back to your room and try to sleep. You know we shouldn’t have done this. Heck, I am the person who tries to teach this to others. Please, please stay safe. GO.”

She got up early and did her yoga, before getting ready to leave. “You ok Rajat?” she asked, even though she knew that nothing would show in a few hours.

Her day at the hospital went in a daze. Secretly, she was happy for the work, as it didn’t allow her to think. On her way back, she bought an oximeter, and ensured that she carried a stethoscope home.

She was back to her meticulous distancing routine, at home. She bathed, changing every bit of clothing, and then double masked before she approached Rajat to give him the oximeter. “Tell me if you have any fever, bodyache, cough, however mild. Don’t skip anything.”

They ate in separate rooms, she tried to read a little as the TV was in Rajat’s room. She slept fitfully, trying to ease of some of the fatigue that had built up through the day, but was largely unsuccessful. In the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, she could only picture Rajat, lying on a hospital bed, and endotracheal tube in place, on ventilator. She knew that she was being irrational. She still couldn’t stop blaming herself. It was awful.

‘It’s not as if they hadn’t given me the choice. I could have chosen to stay at the hospital and kept Rajat safe. I, like an idiot, said I will maintain distance at home. And then I went and screwed it’. She was devastated.

Next morning was another day. ‘One day gone, nine more to go’, she said to herself, as she tried to flash a smile at Rajat, before leaving. She had decided that if Rajat stays asymptomatic for ten days, they could relax.

Rajat, normally one of the most relaxed guys around, was also feeling a little jumpy, mostly due to Amyrta’s nervousness. He started feeling a little irritation at the back of his throat. Or perhaps he was imagining it. He couldn’t say.

Sitting at home and doing nothing, his mind constantly kept playing the sore throat scenario. ‘It’s nothing’, he told himself, ‘I don’t think I’ll bother Amyrta with this”.

“Two over, eight more to go”, Amyrta chirped as she breezed in. It had been a good day at the hospital. The oxygen problem had sorted itself out. None of the serious patients had deteriorated. There had been no deaths. Amyrta was feeling as good as she had felt lately. She, of course, assumed that Rajat was well.

Rajat had kept quiet about his niggling sore throat. He had served her dinner on a plate and kept it outside her room, which she had picked up and they had stayed separate.

Day three was largely unremarkable. Rajat wasn’t sure whether his sore throat had stayed the same or not. Amyrta had a good day, the second in a row.

Amyrta had a really bad day on day four. Two deaths, arguments with relatives, other patients jostling for beds even before the dead bodies were out. As the senior matron, she was doing crowd control as much as she was doing medical and nursing work. She was tired by the time she reached home. She also had a splitting headache. Rajat, on the other hand had had a good day. His sore throat had become better. He had slept the entire day, had exercised for an hour and had cooked a nice meal. Amyrta ate and slept, too tired to taste the food.  

The next day was even worse for Amyrta. She had woken up with a headache. The ward was bad. Fighting for patients’ lives, the deaths in the ward, crowd control, running between wards, shortage of oxygen, shortage of Remdesivir and obnoxious relatives. By the time she reached home she was dead tired, had a splitting headache. Rajat had mentioned something about a sore throat as he had given her food. She had dismissed it without thinking.

Day Six. It hit her as she woke up with a splitting headache. She also had a mild fever. Then she remembered. Rajat had mentioned a sore throat. Could it be? No. No, it can’t be. She got up, did her yoga and pranayama, double masked and asked Rajat how he was feeling. He had a sore throat and was sleeping a lot. No fever. He had measured his SpO2 which was normal. No he did not have fever. Amyrta omitted telling him that she had fever.

Her day was a replica of the previous two days, tough and tiring, with no break. Her fever and headache had not helped. By the time she reached home, her fever was more than 100 deg. Rajat was better. Mild headache and fever. He felt it may just be anxiety.

The next day Amyrta woke up with high fever. She could not even think of going for work. She called in sick. Rajat had some fever, cough. Both of them measured their SpO2, which was ok. They went to the hospital for a RAT test which was negative. They asked for an RTPCR. The result would take two days.

“Dr Peerzada, it’s about my husband”, she had approached the head of the COVID facility. “He’s running fever, maybe I could have infected him. We’re maintaining social distancing at home, but one never knows”, she lied. “Could we reserve a bed for him?”

Dr Peerzada had been kind and his soothing voice had allayed some of her anxiety. She promised to show Rajat to him the next day.

The next two days were also bad, but better. Amyrta’s fever subsided over the next day. Rajat improved as Amyrta stayed home and his anxiety settled. Staying in the same house, albeit in separate rooms had a calming affect on their anxieties. Their fever and cough subsided. They smiled a smile of togetherness.

 

Author’s Note: This story attempts to bring out the kind of anxiety and difficulties families of medical and nursing personnel go through. This is over and above the difficult situations they face at work. Please think about it.