The Children - 4

After our Covid test, I was sure I would test positive. I had been looking after my parents when they were ill, and despite sanitizing, I was also ill briefly. Nonetheless, I hoped and prayed that the children would test negative. So when the children and I tested positive, I wept! The husband was exasperated, mostly because he was exhausted from all the running around he had been doing. "You knew you would test positive. This isn't a surprise. Why are you crying"?

"I am crying because the children are positive too", I yelled back, still sobbing. 

"Don't upset the kids", he urged me, but the kids were smiling.

My 8-year-old said, "why are you sad? Now noone can separate us."

The 12-year-old said, "Atleast our symptoms are minor. Even if we have to go to hospital, we will ask for that room with three beds."

I was overwhelmed by how wise and calm  they seemed. Just then the husband added, "I should be the one crying. I tested negative. I feel so left out." That had us all laughing for a few minutes.

I decided then to give up the self-pity and come up with a plan. The plan was to go sleep, wake up and then deal with the authorities.

In the past, I always imagined people in PPE suits marching into homes to drag sick people into ominous looking ambulances. Yeah, I am the quintessential drama queen. Still a wee bit apprehensive about that drama playing out, I asked, "what will happen?"

Contrary to what I'd imagined, the authorities were relieved that our symptoms were minor. "Get medication from your personal physician", they urged before hanging up. We were relieved. They still call every day, to ask us how we are. They tell us to gargle and inhale, and pop vitamin Cs (that the 8-year-old now refers to as Celine Dions). We promised to do all that, and remain isolated. 

If we had needed hospital care, they would have helped with a government hospital. When my parents needed a hospital, the local health care officer made several attempts to help us find a private hospital. Everyone was relieved when we managed that hospital on their own. They all have empathy, but sadly there isn't a lot they can do. The government hospitals aren't well equipped I am told, and the private hospitals claim they are all full up. On going to a hospital it was discovered that a lot of the rooms are free, and reserved for patients who may be friends of doctors and other important people. While I was glad we had managed a room in the best hospital with the best nursing and medical care, I empathized with all those who wouldn't get this care, as easily. 

Anyway, we were happy to be quarantining at home. The children relaxed on their beds and attended online classes. I urged them to sleep if they ever felt tired. The teachers were sympathetic, and they assured us that we didn't have to worry about anything.

We got daily calls from a nurse at Portea, who asked for our oxygen levels, pulse and temperatures. Then she asked if we had any other symptoms. She assured me repeatedly that I could call her any time I needed help. Even the Portea doctor was as friendly. 

All was well, till Apthamithra sent us an automated message saying we had breached quarantine, and that it was a crime. During testing, the phone number given was always the husband's, so he called to find out why they thought anyone has breached quarantine. Here, we were even sending the dogs to the terrace to do their business. The husband wasn't even standing in the porch with his morning coffee and cigarettes. So what were they talking about? A young voice asked if the 12-year-old had breached quarantine. The husband assured her that noone had, and that we were all sitting at home. She hesitated before adding that maybe it had been a mistake. The 12-year-old paced around nervously. "Maybe they can ask my Fortnite friends. They will tell them that I am playing with them most of the time", he suggested nervously.

Just then, the phone rang again, and it was a call from the Commissioner's office. 

"The police are calling for you", I teased the 12-year-old. I must confess I was a wee bit apprehensive as well. Fortunately they had called the wrong number. The 12-year-*old and I let out audible sighs of relief. The husband asked us if we were crazy, and the 8-year-old chuckled. 

For now, I am waiting for everyone to test negative. The 12-year-old said he would dance and welcome my parents when they returned. My mom said she would also dance towards him. I can quite picture that scene. I only hope I am holding my phone, when they do break into that dance routine :-) 

That's for now. Do continue to pray for us. As a friend told me, this battle is mostly mental. "Stay positive, and you will beat it." So that's the attempt for now!