Covid-19 Stared Me Down; I blinked

We all blinked; our whole household blinked. 

Like many Covid victims, we continue to wonder how the virus got into our super-safe enclave. It will remain a mystery.  

Our corner house has windows all around and the terrace abuts the wide, airy garden. We followed, bordering on obsession, health protocols to the letter. Tony and I, both seniors, never went out in 1.5 years, but for my 20-minute trip to the bank last year to close an account.  

Except for food deliveries, all packages and bags are sprayed or wiped with alcohol. We leave them in the terrace overnight before opening them. 

Sons #1 and #3, who both work from home go out rarely, with masks and face shields on. They bathe when they come back. Mother Teresa, our househelp, sometimes buys this and that from the corner store, but washes her hands thoroughly before entering the house. 

Our driver Sam, who does the errands for us, lives with his wife in a house away from the crowd. When he comes around, we don't talk to him. He leaves the receipts and change on a tray outside the main door. 

Over two weeks ago, Tony started coughing and developed a slight fever. Our doctor, an angel sent by God, immediately prescribed cough medicine and hovered over virtually. Three days later, I had itchy throat and a low-grade fever that threw me into a pit. The next day, we made arrangements for home-service swabbing for the whole household. We alerted our friends and loved ones who went down on their knees to pray for us. Except for JC and Sam, we all tested positive.   

We sent Sam home—on call for any emergency. JC isolated himself. 

And my punishing and exhausting saga battling Covid continues till today, my 14th and supposed emancipation day. JR is fully recovered. Tony still has cough, and Mother Teresa is back to her if-I-don't-move-I-will-die self. 

Completing our vaccine doses months back was grace beyond measure, or one of us would have been hospitalised or gone to glory.  

Pant, pant. This simple act of blogging has sapped my energy. I could not summon enough passion to do what I loved doing best—writing. I think Covid stole something away from me; I don't know what it is exactly.  To echo Job, "God gives, God takes."  

My prayer then and now is to breathe and live this verse:  

"Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus."1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (NLT)