Corona Diaries - 12

Friday April 24th

Day 13 Jaber Hospital

“Equivocal.”

That’s what her message said. What does that even mean? The dictionary meaning is: “ambiguous, open to more than one interpretation”. I didn’t want an equivocal result. I wanted a negative result. What would that mean? Would that mean that my swab had to be repeated again in 3 days? More swabs? My brain was still hurting from the previous one. Would that mean I needed to wait for 2 consecutive negative swabs? That’s at least 6 more days of hospital stay. I didn’t know what to feel. I just put my phone on silent and slept with a heavy heart.

I woke up in the morning and spoke to my friends and asked what was the next step. Could my swab be repeated today and then could I be discharged tomorrow? What was the procedure? I texted the consultant in charge and she had to get back to me. She asked how many days has it been since my original swab and that was 14 days exactly. She said that the rapid test could be done. This would either show:

1. CONTROL: no COVID-19 infection present (impossible in my case)

2. IgM: acute COVID-19 infection (current infection and that I’m still infectious)

3. IgG: previous COVID-19 infection (not infectious anymore and had developed immunity to coronavirus)

She said that if I tested IgG positive than I could be discharged today. There was hope that I could actually go home today, on the first day of Ramadhan. I had never spent Ramadhan away from my family for the past 11 years. I read Quraan that morning and prayed hard for an IgG. I remember writing my post and waiting patiently for the doctor to come see me. He came to do the test at 11:45 am. He pricked my finger and started taking blood in a pipette to fill the container, he was being too gentle and I told him it was fine to squeeze harder. He took the test and told me he’ll come back in 10 minutes. I got up to pray then. Whilst praying, someone knocked on the door and then left when they saw me praying. I finished and looked out the door but no one was there. I asked the nurses who wanted me and they said no one. I went back to pray and again in the middle of prayer someone knocked on the door again. I finished and opened the door, no one again. The nurses said the doctor will come soon. I got on my hospital bed and waited patiently again. It had been nearly 30 minutes since the test was taken. My dad video called me and I told him I was still waiting. The doctor knocked on my door in that instant and the doctor walked in.

“You tested positive for IgG. Mabrook, you’re going home today doctora.”

I couldn’t stop smiling; I wished I could hug the doctor. My father became excited on the phone and said he was getting dressed to come get me. I got up and started packing. I didn’t know what to feel: happiness, relief, excitement and so many other feelings. I packed my things; I was sad I couldn’t take my flowers. There were more than 10 vases scattered around the room but they were a source of infection and I couldn’t take them home. I packed my clothes and everything else. How did I accumulate so many things in such a short period? I came with my suitcase, book bag, shoulder bag and snack bag. I left with a trolley of 7 items and my suitcase. How did that happen?

I packed up everything and sat on the empty hospital bed with the white sheets, the sheets I had covered with my own since the moment I walked in. The room looked so different without all my stuff. I hoped it would be a good room for the patient after me. I wondered how many corona patients had vacated the room before me and how many would occupy it after I left. I hoped they would all have a pleasant stay and leave better than they came in. I wondered how many sick patients would need oxygen or intubation or possibly ECMO during their stay. I wasn’t a patient anymore. I had survived. I wondered why patients were called “patients”; there was certainly a lot of patience involved.

My discharge papers were ready; the security staff came and told me they were ready for me. I put on my N95 mask and left the room for the first time ever since I walked in 13 days ago. I thanked the nursing staff for being so kind to me during my stay and I left with my security staff and porter. I was surprised at the number of armed staff available on the ground floor. We would pass by so many stations and they all needed to check my discharge summary to make sure it was me leaving and not anyone else.

I walked the long corridor ecstatic that I would see my family again. I finally left the hospital. I could breathe fresh air and feel the sun on my face. My father was waiting for me wearing his N95 and gloves behind the wheels. I cannot even begin to express my emotions. I couldn’t hug him or even touch him. We both cried with 2 metres between us. The porter put my stuff in the car and I sat in the backseat. My dad drove me to my car and I followed him home. I drove home feeling lighter. My brother greeted me in the garden. We couldn’t hug or touch or even shake hands but our eyes said the whole story. I had missed my family so much and they had missed me. I missed my house. I missed my room. I missed the feeling of being comfortable and contained.

Don’t leave your homes, please stay at home. You don’t want to call a hospital bed your home, even for just 2 weeks. Health is a blessing. Homes are a blessing. Family is the biggest blessing. Count your blessings and please stay safe. I wouldn’t wish corona even upon my worst enemy. I had survived corona. I beat it. I beat its freaking ass. I am a COVID-19 survivor and I’m back home. I can’t wait to be able to leave the house to donate plasma and help others. I can’t wait to go back to work to join my colleagues in fighting this thing. Let the next two weeks pass quickly so I can get back to my life.

Good bye corona.