The lesson that Covid taught me: Fear doesn’t shut you, it wakes you up

S R Sridhar

All human things hang on a slender thread, the strongest can also fall with a sudden crash is a wise old saying that Coronavirus taught me in reality. Things were quite normal for me and I lived my life with all its exuberance until one day I was struck by the most dreaded virus of our times – Covid-19, only to realize that fear doesn’t shut you down, it wakes you up.

A mild fever that was playing hide and seek with me in the first week of August suddenly peaked with a mild wheeze in my breath and a sore throat. When, paracetamol and normal antibiotics prescribed by my family doctor didn’t work, I was advised to undergo Covid test (RT-PCR) to rule out the disease. 

The test results on August 14 confirmed what I could never imagine: Covid Positive. It took me a while to sink in and come to terms with the fact. I got a message on my phone and then things started moving at a rapid pace. I got calls from the city municipality (Bruhat Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike) followed by a call from the local ward (area) doctor who advised me to get admitted in a hospital since I was co-morbid with diabetes and above 50 years old. My apartment association’s secretary too called me up and politely asked me to get hospitalized.

Corona struck me like a thunderbolt. Besides the physical illness, my concern was to protect my family members and close neighbours from virus spread. My hunt for hospitals was quite an effort as all city hospitals were full and no single occupancy rooms, which I was entitled to through my office medical insurance, were available. Even general wards did not have vacant beds.

Urgency and Bangalore’s long distances deterred me from approaching the armed forces channels being an ex-serviceman. Expeditious admission was imperative. Finally, through my wife’s classmate who was a government doctor, I could manage to get a bed at a popular private hospital close to my house.

Within no time, even before I could pack basic clothing and stuff for the hospital, BBMP sent me an ambulance.  My Naval training forced me to swiftly walk off leaving my family behind but with a poignant lonesome feeling. At around 7 in the evening I was in the hospital’s fever clinic, a makeshift tent near the basement to deal exclusively with Covid-19 patients. For some inexplicable reasons, after basic formalities, I was made to wait for more than an hour in the night chill. Calls from my family members, friends, colleagues and my immediate superior (the director of the institute where I work) served as an assuaging balm.

Finally, a woman clad from head to toe in PPE (Personal Protective Equipment) rolled in a wheel chair to take me up. I chose to walk to the third floor where the isolation ward was located. I saw medical staff in PPE suits everywhere which further elevated the palpable feeling of uneasiness. I was taken to a room which already had four patients: A doctor (pathologist), who was admitted a day earlier and had a nasal cannula for supplementary oxygen, welcomed me. I crashed on the bed after nibbling some cold food that was served. However, the gum boot clacks and PPE squeaks of the medical staff coupled with the coughing and huffing noise of fellow patients didn’t allow me to sleep for sometime.

The next day began early at 4:30am with checks on BP, glucose levels, oxygen saturation, temperature and ECG. This was done diligently four times a day. I got to know that there were seven other rooms like ours in the Covid-19 ward besides an exclusive Covid ICU ward. There were about 70 patients in the ward and about a dozen in the ICU.

What I realized that the virus just did not discriminate and was a great leveller. There were software engineers, doctors, contractors, business men, labourers, drivers and all kinds of people covering almost the entire socio-economic strata of Bengaluru. The outbreak was a violent disrupter of the established normal and enforced a compression of inequality in one stroke.  The only differential was that people were sick in varying degrees of infirmity.

There were families who got admitted to the hospital together but sadly some family members had to be admitted in other hospitals later. 

On the second day, about ten people got discharged and an equal number got admitted.  This was the norm every day and the hospital had to throw open additional rooms.

The fever and illness almost crippled me on the bed for the first three days. Slowly, the medication and the wonderful care of the hospital staff started showing results. I realized that the PPE clad doctors, nurses and medical staff who initially looked like aliens from another planet were true angels who barely stopped working.

Risking their own health, these Corona warriors had to endlessly deal with patients who were in pretty bad shape; vomiting on the floor, defecating on the bed, heavy wheezing, and with acute co-morbidities like BP, diabetes and cardiac ailments. The nurses gave their heart out bringing about a profound impact on our mental and physical being. The doctors called our family members to apprise them of our health. The dietician ensured we got piping hot and nutritious food as per our disposition and health parameters.

The third day, I started to take a stroll on the long corridor that opened up in front of our room. I started making new friends. Encouraging and lifting each other’s spirits just came naturally to each one of us. Life in the ward slowly started turning its wheels in the positive direction. Stories of how bad the facilities and situation were in other hospitals trickled in from patients who had their near and dear ones in other hospitals.

We consciously as a group decided not to follow and discuss social media updates on increasing Covid-19 cases and deaths. It was important to engage in positive discussions with each other and we had quite a few budding enthusiasts who would reach out to patients low on spirits. Some of us became friends that would last a lifetime.  Bidding bye to fellow patients on their discharge every evening became a small informal ritual. It enthused us and gave us hope.

I got discharged on the eighth day with an advice to be in home quarantine for the next ten days. Most patients like me came through BBMP and were pleasantly surprised to know that the civic body had footed our entire hospital expense. I insisted to pay as I had an insurance cover but didn’t persist. I left as I was too eager to get to home.

I learnt from my discharge summary that the entire medical care was sponsored through the government’s Ayushman Bharat Arogya Karnataka scheme. I thought for a moment even if slowly but we are indeed moving towards universal health care for all. More needs to be done to ensure that only the needy have free healthcare access and those who can afford must pay. I promised to myself that I should return the benefit availed to someone needy. We often talk about alleged pilferages from the government’s Covid-19 fund but my overall ground experience at my hospital was fabulous.

As I stepped out of the hospital devoid of the virus, my heart went out to the Corona warriors who are fighting a potent invisible enemy putting their own lives at risk every day. They dispensed comfort, compassion and care without any prescription. My salute to them!

ENDS

•  Commodore (retd) SR Sridhar was in the Indian Navy and is current registrar of IIIT Bangalore