I (Might) Have Had The Coronavirus

By Connor O’Boyle
AE Editor 

Once finals came to an end and spring break began, everything I did felt bitter and empty. 

I found myself getting into a seemingly endless cycle of talking with my parents, checking the news to stay informed, and re-binging Netflix shows to try and convince myself that despite the torture and death thousands of people were going through, it would all be okay. I would live through this and one day tell my children about the one time in American history where people could re-sell rolls of Costco toilet paper for $50 on eBay.

Unfortunately, my story would not be as simple as I imagined. After a few days of getting restless during a state-wide quarantine, I was so starved for an outing that when my mother asked if I wanted to drive her to the store, I said yes. I had already felt this strange pressure on my lungs before I was handed the keys, but I passed it off as a trivial paranoia. 

The drive felt refreshing. I carefully watched the surprisingly busy traffic ahead of me as waving trees and small businesses passed by. Everything felt normal for the first time in a while. As we got to the parking lot and began walking to Safeway, that tight feeling in my lungs came back. 

It felt like something was pushing down on them, so I every time I would attempt to a draw a full breath, it would be cut short. But still, I ignored it. I tried to focus on my surroundings and enjoy being in a new space.

The store was devoid of customers, with blank white shelves where fresh shipments of colorful supplies used to be. My mother slowly dropped things in the cart, the pressure on my chest increased. By the time we reached another isle, I had to tell her that I could hardly breathe.

She quickly placed every item back in its place, and we rushed back in the car. We had an emergency inhaler for my asthma back at home, but I had not had an attack for nearly a decade. As my mother drove me back, I looked out the window and watched the same trees, cars, and sunlight fly by. But they did not gift me the same sense of reassurance as they did before. 

When we got home, I picked up one of my two inhalers (it must have been at least 5 years old) and breathed in its expired contents. I began laughing and crying as I took in long gusts of air. I was convinced it was all just another asthma attack.

I then settled back into that familiar cycle, only I was more thankful for my own health and well being. It was as if I woke from a terrible nightmare; gifted the familiar sights and smells of home once again. It made me think about those suffering with this virus who were lucky enough to be able to get a machine to do their breathing for them.

This episode gave me a new perspective on life, but it was far from over. That night I began coughing repeatedly; shivers taking over my body despite being under three layers of blankets. My heart began pounding harder and faster than I ever felt it before. 

I was convinced: I had the virus.

I finally opened my eyes and felt the thick darkness of my room consume me. I began to think of the logistics. I decided that I would need to stay in this room, away from my mother and father, for as long as the symptoms would run their course. I already felt the loneliness of being separated and being defined by my sickness in that dark and cold room.

“What if I’m one of the few unfortunate teens of my generation to die during this epidemic?” I thought. 

I finally turned the light on, and took as deep a breath as I could muster. I carefully went downstairs, disinfecting everything I touched after I made a cup of hot herbal tea to warm my shivering body and calm my catastrophizing mind. 

I went back upstairs and entered a sense of acceptance. I reassured myself that it could still just be the flu, and even if I did have the virus I would more than likely recover in a week or two. I then planted this metaphorical seed of uncertainty and rode through the night thinking of how fortunate I truly was despite this sudden and uncontrollable sickness. 

Even though my body was struggling at this time, I could still rely on it to get me through it all. And at the other end of this, I would become stronger and more empathetic of the thousands who are still suffering from COVID-19.

Two weeks after I had my first symptoms, I am finally feeling like myself. I now enjoy every breath I take and think of those who suffer from health issues who are unable to get the help or supplies they need because of this epidemic.

This experience, as terrible as it was, made me appreciate the commonly neglected gift of being alive and well. It made me believe that despite the death, grief, and suffering this pandemic will cause us, we will get through it. Not only that, but we will come out of it much stronger and more connected than we ever were as a country.

Photo Cred: Free SVG