Quarantine Diaries Day 7/8: The Dichotomy of Emotions with COVID-19

It’s been a day or so since I posted anything here. Maybe it’s only been a couple of days. It’s hard to tell, to be honest. Anyway, today I thought I’d write something a little different. Instead of a log of the day, I’ll write about some of the things I’ve been going through while my dad is in the ICU. 

From contradictory emotions to spirituality to frustrations, I’m going to try my best to describe what it’s been like here. 

First, let’s start with all of the contradictory emotions that have consistently filled my soul for the last five days. 

LOVE & ANNOYANCE

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve tried to keep this situation mainly to myself and my family. Actually, I  haven’t really spoken much to anyone besides my mom and brother over the past few days. I haven’t even had the bravery to call my grandma. I’ve been too scared to hear the fear in her voice. 

I don’t like sharing personal things. Especially when they involve people other than myself. Not to mention the fact that this situation had an outcome I was unsure about. 

I did end up telling my closest friends. I told them because I needed them to understand the reality of this situation so that they could protect themselves and their families. Especially since many have parents who are also in laid-back Hawaii—and who weren’t totally taking this all seriously. 

We also told a few other family members. 

Let’s start with the positive emotion.

The outpouring of love I’ve received over the last few days has been incredible. To be completely honest, I’ve felt pretty disconnected from my friends as of late. I just haven’t been able to connect with them on anything. It has felt like I’m trying to be a friend, as opposed to really being one. 

I am so grateful that through this terrible experience, I was able to rediscover the love that I have for them. I was able to remember why we’ve remained friends for over 15 years. 

They responded with such support, love, concern, and hope. I can’t even begin to describe it all. On top of that, they allowed me to be selfish, which I really needed to be during this time. I needed to be able to only think about myself, my dad, my mom, & my brother. I needed to be freed from thinking about anyone or anything else. And they let that happen. 

I also received so many concerned texts from my other family members as well as friends of my parents. 

I am so appreciative of their prayers, their concern, & their positive energy. 

But here’s the thing… 

Dealing with the day to day, hour by hour concerns. Living with the uncertainty of what each minute holds. It’s exhausting. Your body can’t relax. The heartbeat in your chest is always skipping a beat at every notification on your phone. Your mind focuses on other things while always wondering if this will be the hour when things get worse—or better if you’re lucky. Are you lucky? Will you be one of the lucky ones? You can’t tell. 

So, I found that the texts, the DMs, the messages on other social apps simultaneously drove me mad. I was annoyed when people reached out to ask how I was doing. 

I wanted to yell at them. What do you want me to say?! I wanted to shut everything off. 

At the same time, I wonder what would have happened if no one would have checked on me. Where would my mind have gone then? Would I feel the same love as I do now for my friends? Would I be disgusted with family members who pretended all was well?

I guess I’ll never know. All I can write about is the truth. The crazy contradictory truth of what happened. So that’s LOVE & ANNOYANCE. 

HOPE & GUILT

This next combo has only occurred in the last 72 hours. 

The guilt has been there since the start (I’ve written about it in previous Quarantine blog posts). However, I am now privileged enough to feel the dichotomy between my hope and my guilt. 

My dad has been doing better. 

He was successfully weaned off the ventilator. He is lucid. He only needed a litre of oxygen on his first day. Now he’s breathing on his own. Though his oxygen level is slightly low, his vitals are good and he’s even taken a few steps around the hospital. 

To describe the relief when we got our first text from him… I’m crying now thinking about it. It was as though I were standing on pavement in the desert on the hottest day of the year and someone threw a bucket of cold water over me. I think I buckled to my knees and cried and thanked whatever helped us through this. 

The first day after this relieving news, I didn’t dare jinx it. I couldn’t tell anyone. Instead, I mentioned that “we had hope” but didn’t know anything. 

Today, I’ve let myself believe that we have made it through this. I know he has a lot of healing to do, but I have allowed myself to think of him in recovery. 

I’ve even let myself get bogged down with a few work projects. To get a bit frustrated with a few things that I think could be running better. I never thought that I would be happy to be annoyed about work, but to have the ability to think about anything besides my dad’s next breath is such a relief. 

At the same time… 

There’s this guilt. This sticky, dark guilt. 

How can I just go back to my daily routine like nothing ever happened? How can I answer calls with cheer in my voice? How can I think about anything other than the fact that my dad is surviving a fatal virus? 

Like I said before, I know that it’s illogical. He wouldn’t want me to be worried 24/7, but the feeling’s still there. 

I’m also guilty about my sleep. There was only one night that I had trouble falling asleep. That night was the night of the day he’d started texting us. His phone died and the outlet in the room wasn’t working, but we didn’t know that. When he didn’t respond to our goodnight text, I could feel my stomach curl. I kept telling myself that he would respond soon. When he didn’t, I tried to convince myself that he had just fallen asleep early. After all, he’d had a big day. I told this to my mom too in order to quell her fears. But that night, I didn’t sleep. 

However, all of the other nights, I fell asleep almost as soon as I hit my bed. Probably exhausted from crying and worrying during the day. I would wake up the next day, knowing my brother and mom got very little sleep and felt guilty. I still do. 

LOGIC & SPIRITUALITY

This is less about emotions and more about beliefs. The combination of logic and spirituality has been a doozy. 

Let’s start with the logical and scientific element to this. I have read so many medical journals and news articles at this point, I feel like I’m a student again. I am even a subscriber to a medical professional website on which doctors can share patient stories when learning about what works (and doesn’t work) with new viruses and diseases. 

I know all about ARDS, about ventilators and different oxygen like ECMO. I know about the trials of Remesdevir & Favipiravir. I know about the initial research from the doctors in China - about the 54 critical patients. That they died in a median of seven days. That many of those who had severe symptoms were men over the age of 63. I have read through the entire study as well as other studies that have been done. 

I have clung to everything they said. Have paid attention to my dad’s own symptoms and tried to compare them. Have counted the days to try to understand where he was in the symptoms - he was past the 10-day point (where many had their worst symptoms) but not yet to the 28-day mark (when mortality rate seemed to conclude). 

Science, though limited, has helped me understand everything that’s happening. It has helped me accept the doctors’ decision to take him off the ventilator (the longer you’re on a ventilator, the more difficult it is to come back). It has helped me to know that, though severe cases have most often ended in death, there is still a chance of survival. 

And that’s where my logical brain ends… 

While understanding all of this. While trusting the doctors as much as I could, though knowing they don’t know much either, I turned to other resources that I had. 

Every evening and every morning, I cast a spell. I use my crystal and sage and I focus all of my energy on soothing my dad’s lungs. I picture a cooling blue energy soothing the inflamation, removing any of the fluids that could be obstructing his oxygen flow. I picture wrapping his heart, his liver, and his kidney with a protective shield. I protect them. Then I attack the Coronavirus. I help his white blood cells. I cool his fever. 

And I pray. 

I pray to God. The God of the Christians. I ask the God of my Jewish answers to help me as well. I plead to Buddah. I beg Mother Earth to fill me with energy to pass to him. I ask my soul protector, the fox, to look over us. 

On the day we heard of my dad’s progress, a fox print I’d ordered arrived at my apartment. I take it as a sign. 

I asked my friends to use any witchy powers they had to help him. And they did. They cast their own spells, used their own energy to reach him. I have never and will never doubt their power. 

IN CONCLUSION:

So what does this all mean? What kind of person does this make me? 

I’m not sure. 

And I don’t really care. All I know is that I am, more than anything else, grateful. I cry every evening thanking everyone and everything that helped me. 

Thank you, I whisper into the night. Thank you.