I Have Coronavirus. Here’s What I Tell Myself To Stay Sane

“You’re going to be OK.”

Photo by Edward Howell on Unsplash

Two days ago, I was healthy and productive. I worried about not being able to travel, about not seeing my family — who are under a strict lockdown in my home country of Russia — and viewed if COVID-19 as something virtual, something you only read on the news once a day.

It’s awful to realize, but we became used to “death toll” quotes on the news. When you see an update that “only” 800 people died in the last 24 hours, you feel relieved, “Well, that’s not too bad.”

I remember hearing World War II stories from my great-grandparents (and yes, I am lucky to have them), who told me how the war affects the psychology and people become accustomed to bombing, scarcity, and death. But then you hear those stories and think to yourself, “How lucky I am to be born now, and not then.”

No matter what we tell ourselves — we are living through abnormal times.

Eight hundred people are not “just” 800 people; it’s 800 fucking people — with families, desires, thoughts, ambitions, souls, just like you.

Yesterday I woke up with severe muscle pain. But because I recently started running more, I didn’t think of it as strange, and did what any normal person would do when they are in pain: I went for a 5K run down the river Thames.

The run was a hard one. After you finish the workout, the Strava app asks you to rate your experience by how it felt, from 0 (“Easy”) to 10 (“Extremely Hard”). I put in “More difficult than usual.”

Once I got home, I stretched for a bit — still trying to get rid of the muscle pain — took a shower, and ate breakfast.

I usually write after breakfast, and after I hit “Submit” on my Medium daily post that day, I felt I had no strength for anything else. The muscle pain persisted.

“I think I feel sick,” I told my girlfriend.

“Check your temperature,” she said.

37.5. By the evening, it became 38.5–38.7 Celcius.

Breathing became difficult. I felt as if I was panting, although I was sitting still and doing nothing. At the same time, I started hearing a wheezing sound from the chest.

I googled the symptoms, called NHS, and they said, “Yup. You do have coronavirus symptoms. Stay at home.”

My whole perspective changed. I was not immune. This is about me — as much as it is about other people.

And I definitely didn’t want someone to call me one of those “just 800” people.