Being positive

I’m a usually positive person. Or I at least strive to be!
But that one phone call I got, to tell me I’m ‘positive’ was not very pleasant.

I got tested for COVID-19 on the last Wednesday of April— a few days after I learned I was in close contact with at least three others in my newsroom who had tested positive for the new coronavirus.

I was finishing up a work assignment at home (since my newsroom shutdown), when I got the call from the healthcare clinic.

“I’m calling you to let you know you tested positive for COVID-19.”

“Wait… really?” I first blurted out, in disbelief. I did have some body aches, but I thought they were because of non-COVID related issues.

"Are you sure…?”

“Yes,” said the nurse, sternly and almost impatiently as if she had a slew of other similar calls to make.

She asked if I currently had a fever.

”No—I don’t think so….”

But honestly I didn’t know. My face suddenly felt flushed from the news though. And I realized I had been feeling a bit warm on a sunny, but chilly day. Do I have a fever?

She then proceeded to tell me to self-quarantine for 14-days and to monitor changes in my body. She said I should go to the hospital if I experience chest pains or have a hard time breathing.

Damn.

Is this why I had those headaches? And the muscle aches? I blamed the pains on hormones and my new at-home workout routine—reps of push-ups, bicep curls and overhead tricep extensions. I felt lame thinking my humble workouts were making me sore.

The headaches came and went throughout the week. It actually didn’t get worse until the day after my positive diagnosis. Is the stress of ‘knowing' making it worse? Then I remembered that one evening a few days earlier, when I felt super fatigued. My body started to crash at 8PM, way earlier than usual, and I was exhausted both mentally and physically at the end of a workday. My friend, Erica, called me around 9PM and I had moaned she had called so late, without realizing it was not even 10PM. I was in bed, all washed up and in my pajamas.

Before I got tested, I did take ibuprofen for my aches because that was the only painkiller I had at the time. I knew full well of the warnings from the FDA that non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs, like ibuprofen, could worsen Covid-19 symptoms. I obviously thought I really didn’t have the notorious virus.

How did I get it? I knew the high chance of contracting it, considering how contagious it is—but my mind could not help but wonder if I had done something wrong. I felt like I was at fault. Did I do something wrong?

I wore face masks whenever I was in the office. I (nicely) yelled ‘social distancing!’ at colleagues who inadvertently got too close to me. I even wore latex gloves when I had to touch shared equipment. Sans gloves, my hands were tough from dryness from washing them so often. And I had become that annoying person to remind others to wash their hands. My refrigerator was also nearly empty because I had been limiting my trips to the grocery store.

During my quarantine, I got dramatic and emotional at times— I guess that’s what happens when one is isolated— and I even felt like that man with leprosy in the Bible. He was ‘marked’ with a disease, that he had ‘no control over’ and was subsequently shunned by society. Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean?

Another close colleague of mine had tested positive too, and for fear of being judged or ‘shunned’, she kept her ‘positive news’ to herself for the most part.

I definitely didn’t feel very sick—and only had extreme headaches for about two days. I’m incredibly grateful for that. But I couldn’t stop myself from being slightly concerned that my minor aches would escalate and lead me to a hospital. The last place I wanted to be was the hospital.

After months of reading the latest developments on Covid-19, and hearing horror stories from patients and healthcare workers, my mind was adjusting to the fact that I, too, had become a part of the statistics of this global pandemic. And the fact that I was actually carrying the said virus- the one that has killed more than 90,000 people in the U.S. and more than 300,000 worldwide. I felt guilty for carrying the virus. I also felt guilty for feeling okay and not as sick as the others. A horrible guilt.

It took a couple of days of being alone to fully be at ease and get good rest. In those moments of solitude, I realized how loud my own thoughts were. Opinions I had about certain things, all of a sudden became extremely loud in my head, as if they were suppressed from roaring. I hated how people would categorize mental health issues as something that people had brought upon themselves. For people saying that wearing face masks is an infringement on their rights and freedom, I wanted to slap them.

And who knew I liked waffles and pancakes so much. I craved them nearly every morning during my two-week quarantine.

I had to learn to be okay with the quiet and stillness, and with my own thoughts. All of it— the good, the bad and ugly. I didn’t realize how judgmental I could be, and how I idolized certain relationships or even my career. I had high standards of others, but did I even meet those standards myself? I also cherished the friendships I had and my family members who were so worried about my well-being and wanted to be of any help. I felt grateful and undeserving of the love.

I say this sensitively, but that 14-day quarantine was in a way, a blessing in disguise. After the fear of confronting COVID-19 dissipated, I had to confront my own feelings and thoughts—which at times felt more overwhelming than a virus. It was a time for me to re-order my thoughts and think about my priorities. The quarantine gave me time to be still and really think about what kind of life I wanted to have for myself. What kind of life I was created to live by my Creator. The time also helped me remember what I loved doing (creating and building things), and gave me the opportunity to devote time to tackle a new project (a post on that coming soon!).

I wish I didn’t need a virus to give me a little ‘wake-up’ call, but I am glad it did. Positive changes, like taking more time for self-care and keeping better tabs on my loved ones, came about after my diagnosis. And I’m hoping these changes are here to stay, as COVID-19 and the pandemic goes away ASAP!