Dr Surabhi, a Covid-19 warrior, tells us how her world changed after she tested Covid-19 positive. She shares her woes and wows too, in a candid article. An exclusive for Different Truths.

Many people think that wisdom comes with age. But that’s not true. Only white hair and wrinkles come with age. Wisdom comes from a combination of intuition and values, from making choices and learning from them. It comes from the ability to handle failure and rejection. Knowing the world is cleverness, but knowing yourself is wisdom.

The hospital quarantine of two weeks at Ginger Hotel had just ended. I thanked the nurses, housekeeping staff and manager of the hotel for their hospitality. My soul thanked god, more than anyone for my smooth recovery. My hubby drove me across the road that had been washed clean by the recent rains. The trees alongside looked so fresh and green. The air was moist and we both were silent. I was at the rear seat, masked and my hubby wore a PPE kit. A multitude of emotions ran across my mind.

The hospital quarantine of two weeks at Ginger Hotel had just ended. I thanked the nurses, housekeeping staff and manager of the hotel for their hospitality. My soul thanked god, more than anyone for my smooth recovery. My hubby drove me across the road that had been washed clean by the recent rains. The trees alongside looked so fresh and green. The air was moist and we both were silent. I was at the rear seat, masked and my hubby wore a PPE kit. A multitude of emotions ran across my mind. It was almost a fortnight then when I was informed positive for Covid-19 infection, not by the reporting lab, where I had sent my swab sample but by the Nodal officer in charge from the state government to tackle Corona pandemic at a local level. The media personals immediately came into action and the local news channels were beaning ‘Breaking News’ on state television channels and WhatsApp groups. By the time I was contemplating on my isolation journey and finding ways to manage my already admitted indoor patients, who had to be shifted to other hospitals with a proper referral letter the next morning. Meanwhile, my receptionist informed me that patient’s attendants were waiting to be discharged as soon as possible. Probably they had known my COVID positive status through the news channels. My world had collapsed. How could a personal health report be announced in the public? How I received at least five calls in ten minutes from the nodal officer to be there at the hospital gate, as the government vehicle was coming to pick me up.

I felt like a prisoner. I avoided contact with Shivani, my daughter, and my hubby, at that point of time for the fear of contracting them the infection. We spoke on phone, though Shivani was quick enough to write a ‘get well soon’ letter for me on a sea-green piece of paper from her copy. The letter said:

Dearest Mumma,

This was unexpected but as rightly said by someone ‘you never know what happens’, so please take care. It will be a great void not seeing you around for a while. We as a family are all there and will pray with the bottom of our hearts. Get well soon. If you get bored during isolation, read books and work on your breathing exercises. Keep mailing articles to Arindam Roy. Will talk to you over the phone.

Take care,

Bye,

Love, Shivani

My household and night duty nursing staff bid me a tearful adieu. I was rushed in just ten minutes from my workplace around 9.30 pm to Hotel Ginger with just three sets of nightwear, a hot water flask, an oximeter, a thermometer, mobile, iPad, my pen and diary. The entrance of Hotel Ginger looked so dark and gloomy. My hubby was asked to go back immediately by the guard, while I was handed over like a commodity to a stern-looking nurse on duty, draped in a PPE kit.

My household and night duty nursing staff bid me a tearful adieu. I was rushed in just ten minutes from my workplace around 9.30 pm to Hotel Ginger with just three sets of nightwear, a hot water flask, an oximeter, a thermometer, mobile, iPad, my pen and diary. The entrance of Hotel Ginger looked so dark and gloomy. My hubby was asked to go back immediately by the guard, while I was handed over like a commodity to a stern-looking nurse on duty, draped in a PPE kit. As I traversed the corridors of the hotel room, the sour, chemical smell of the hospital invaded my nostrils. She ushered me to room no 115, instructing me to keep a check on my Oxygen saturation and call her, if the need arises. She gave me a paracetamol tablet as I was running a fever, and asked me to swallow it with the water provided in my room. She told me that food would be served each day at 9 am, 2 pm and 9 pm. The two water bottles kept in the room were complimentary and for remaining days I could ask for mineral water that would be paid. We shared our numbers and she left.

Oh how miserably I had slouched on the chair in my room until the wee hours of the morning with the Oximeter at my right index finger! The windows were locked and opening the room wasn’t allowed. A ceiling fan moved as lifelessly as my thoughts. How suffocating. A fifteen minutes drive took me across the city and a turn to the right showed me, my pride, my hospital board, which looked so lonely and saddened!

Oh how miserably I had slouched on the chair in my room until the wee hours of the morning with the Oximeter at my right index finger! The windows were locked and opening the room wasn’t allowed. A ceiling fan moved as lifelessly as my thoughts. How suffocating. A fifteen minutes drive took me across the city and a turn to the right showed me, my pride, my hospital board, which looked so lonely and saddened!

As the car stopped and I disembarked, there was a feeling of melancholy. Oscar, Tuffy, Whisky, came, rushing by, wagging their tails. I could read the concern and sadness in their eyes. I cuddled all of them, at least they were Coronavirus proof. Fearing media coverage of my safe homecoming I hurriedly took the stairs. All my luggage, though sanitised at the Hotel Ginger exit gate, was safely kept in the hospital basement by my hubby.  Another two weeks of home quarantine and my life would be normal again.

My daughter was busy with her online classes and our ever-smiling house help Urmilla, greeted me with a big smile. She frisked me, maintaining a safe distance to my guest room that she cleaned and organised, nicely, with an electric kettle, tea bags, two cups, stirrer, tea coasters, two table mats and a crystal jug filled with water covered by a laced pink cloth cover. Cut fruits were kept covered on the Lazy Suzy at the side table. My extension board was just in place. My favourite bedspreads and pillows were waiting to cuddle me. There was sandalwood aroma in the room with my study lamp, sitting on the big wooden round table. A few diaries, books, paper napkins and a pen stand. The towels were neatly stacked in the closet and all toiletries were well arranged.

There was a handmade card by Shivani that showcased a welcome note, painted with a bunch of neon flowers. It was securely clipped to the cap of my favourite doll that read about the void she had felt without me and wished me a quicker recovery. I asked for black tea and cookies. The rest of the house was partitioned by a vintage screen that was shifted from the entrance area.

All arrangements looked just perfect but the deserted look of the hospital, with not a single human soul, numbed me to the core. This wasn’t the hospital of my dreams. Without any staff, patients and empty rooms, it looked like empty shells without souls. Suddenly, I felt like trespassing an alien place!

All arrangements looked just perfect but the deserted look of the hospital, with not a single human soul, numbed me to the core. This wasn’t the hospital of my dreams. Without any staff, patients and empty rooms, it looked like empty shells without souls. Suddenly, I felt like trespassing an alien place!

So much happened in the last 10 days. In spite of two negative reports with testing for Covid-19 done by Tu-NAaT and RT-PCR of the entire forty hospital staffers that included two junior doctors, young nurses, housekeeping ladies, OT technicians, pharmacist, ambulance driver, guard, sanitary workers, house help, my hubby and my daughter, Shivani. The newspaper headlines declared Surabhi Hospital as a quarantine home. The local administration and media contributed its best in letting the whole of Uttranchal people know about this. This made great news for a while amongst my doctor colleagues and friends as well. Police were deployed at the hospital gate by erecting tents. Motorcycles revved loud, every now and then, disturbing the frightened inmates and the staff.

The staff was also quarantined for two weeks at the hospital premises, more so as their neighbours and landlords did not want them to stay at home, lest they spread the virus to the community. Well, they were also released the same morning with stamped forearms, depicting another one week of home isolation. Their homes were visited and poster of home quarantine pasted on each by the health workers.

My hospital, a place which had been like a temple for the distressed and had seen three decades of my hard work and devotion, suddenly looked so deserted and rampaged. Even the Aak tree and flowers looked lifeless and my stately Silver Oak tree wore a weeping look. The orange and peach flowers of the creeper on my consulting room window had lost their fluffy, happy look.

My hospital, a place which had been like a temple for the distressed and had seen three decades of my hard work and devotion, suddenly looked so deserted and rampaged. Even the Aak tree and flowers looked lifeless and my stately Silver Oak tree wore a weeping look. The orange and peach flowers of the creeper on my consulting room window had lost their fluffy, happy look.

I took a shower, had tea and rested for a few hours. The entire day passed in a blur. Lunch was kept on a table outside my room on a disposable plate at 2 pm. Urmilla rang me up from the kitchen. Shivani had finished her classes and she video called me in a happy voice. Her sweet face lightened my mood. I felt elated. God had been kind that I battled this out. The evening passed silently. My troubled mind was put to rest by at least one positive news from the media in the ‘Sandhya Dainik’ evening edition of a local paper, appreciating my fighting spirit. They proclaimed me a winner. I wanted to tell them that at least I needed a more sympathetic treatment. Over these three decades of my practice, I must have saved so many lives and catered to so many distressed mothers, wives, girls and grandmoms of so many bigwigs in the government.

God had been kind that I battled this out. The evening passed silently. My troubled mind was put to rest by at least one positive news from the media in the ‘Sandhya Dainik’ evening edition of a local paper, appreciating my fighting spirit. They proclaimed me a winner.

Next morning, after my breathing exercises, breakfast and attending to several routine calls from patients and a few friends, I browsed the Internet for some great designs to paint with oil on canvas. There was a flashing advertisement of summer courses for 3D Gel, Nail Art that appeared at the top right corner of my iPad. Nail art is a very interesting hobby these days. Instantly, I became interested and clicked some pictures of the daintily painted nails. I vividly recall a very sweet and sad memory of nail art session I attended in my summer break, almost four decades back with my Buaji and her friends in Allahabad. But, that’s another story that I will share in my next column.

Photos by the author