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A leap across six years from 2014 to 2020 and I am in self-isolation again. Quarantine period , the self-preservation exercise thanks to the Corona scare and Modi ji calling it the need of the hour. The situation may be different from six years ago yet it is so alike. For me at least.
Those days it was about one life, today it is about many lives of the Indian citizens across the country and mine too. Those days I was confined to a small glass cubicle in the Transplant ICU on the 9th floor , today it is about staying in my own house. Those days I was expected to don the gown and mask at all times , scrub , spray every time I made a movement outside or returned as a protocol of full barrier nursing . I feared to breathe and cough around my husband who was undergoing a bone marrow transplant then just in case my innocuous symbiotic strains would play havoc in his weak immune-compromised body . A time when I was technically his most healthy enemy in disguise . I feared every bacteria, virus, fungus even those whose I did not know. Today it is just one COVID 19 scaring the rest of the human race across continents. Even today I am enames xpected to wear the same at work place and home when moving around and stay protected . I have rules to follow when I cough or sneeze . Those days my hands smelled of sanitizer and soaps and today when I scrub and spray it bring the familiar smell but unpleasant feelings of fading memories.
Those days I went hungry because many times I just couldn’t eat because of lost appetite thanks to whatever I was facing then today I am deciding to practice fasting this Navratri which I have never done before and save my share for someone somewhere since I am not contributing to feed the poor services. I used to live on water and Maggi then and craved for simple home-made Dal-sabzi and today I eat Dal-Sabzi and crave for a Pizza .
Those days I survived in two or three sets of clothes hidden behind those hideous oversized green gowns and today I landed in my own house with the same number of clothes since I was not expecting to be caught unaware while I finished a surgery which got over pretty late. I know I will manage fine simply because I have done it before and thankfully I don’t have to cover myself with gowns whose creases hurt when I slept. These are still quieter times despite the calamity. I had learnt to live in isolation cubicle with a sick partner knocked down with pain patches and only the rise of his chest confirmed life force in him plus the beeping monitors. Today I sleep with my healthy children around me minus the beeps and I still feel thankful for what it could have been .
Those 33 days of imposed isolation confined in a glass cubicle were the toughest .Every patient around was equally on a possible death list at different stage of treatment with no surety. The surety came only if you were discharged alive not necessarily fit and fine. Fine takes many years. The caretakers shared stories and a glass wall . Thanks to someone sane who probably envisioned the plight of those to be isolated , the architect replaced one side of the brick wall with that of a glass wall. A glass wall in a transplant ICU with few chairs , a luxury to have since that alone is your connect to the outside world. It displays hues of the sky in the horizon , the playgrounds below where the school children kicked ball in daytime, the welding sparks of the under construction Metro line towards the hospital like shooting stars at night , few tall offices and hotels bearing names and the birds that flew. A tempting sight of life and light just across the glass wall and this side filled with gloom, despair , depression a heaviness that just hangs in the air. It touched everyone in isolation patients and attenders alike and was so clearly obvious on the faces, the red eyes, the shaky voices , the trembling hands despite the heavy gowns they hid behind. A lady wanted to just jump and die. She couldn’t take it anymore. Patients came from far across the middle east and Africa. Wives, husbands, mothers, fathers , tiny babies and siblings . No one deserved to die yet everybody taking their chances to live. Is it going to feel the same now ? These three weeks ? Unspoken ,collective fear that hangs in the air and may last many months even after the curfew is lifted and lockdown abolished.
Those days the waiting period ended the moment my husband’s cell count hit 500 and it lasted 33 days. I have those days year marked in my calendar in the journal I kept and these days will be marked too just in a different journal. Those days if all went well by the evening sun set I would mark one tick and if I progressed to next day sunrise across the glass walls I would place two ticks. The ticks kept me happy and hopeful. I have just started ticking from today but I have goals in my mind this lockdown. When I stepped out after a month I had forgotten the smell of the rain, warmth of the sunshine ,and craved for a whiff of fresh air and sleep was a luxury .
I forgot the laughter, and I lost my joy quotient big time. But I learnt the biggest lessons in my life in that isolation which a whole life may not have taught me. It taught me to distance and disengage myself from the routine , the ordinary that I thought was life. It teaches me to get comfortable with my biggest fears of loss on many fronts and I learnt to address them. It taught me that there is no escaping the reality. Battles are to be fought. Tough times have to be faced even if minute by minute, day by day, weeks after weeks, months , years and so on. It taught me that one is not born with strength and patience rather these are virtues you acquire ,build and strengthen while these times last. One learns not to break even when facing the worst . I learnt that events happen to remind you that life is precious yet it is attached to the body by very tiny fragile threads that can give way anytime. Isolation teaches to value the things , moments and the people that are often taken for granted. The static phase imparts great lesson of living in the NOW and time stops mattering . Nothing matters . Losing a job does not matter. Losing time does not matter, losing yourself does not matter. What matters is your progress from point A to B even in that slowest phase. Limited interactions teach you to differentiate between those who stand by you and those who you believed would be always there for you .
It teaches you about solid, stable relationships that survive the worst. I craved and learnt to value a human touch and appreciated the feelings of being held, hugged and how it felt to have your tears wiped away with caring hands. Isolation taught me self -discipline to stay put and survive despite the chaos that threatens your world from outside. The silence connects you to a bigger space of silence within where your own vacuum gets sucked into a different dimension of space, and solitude. The uncertainty, the unfamiliarity of it all taught me to start getting comfortable with myself and with the process called life. I learnt to hope and never give up. I understood that change is permanent and no tough time lasts forever. It taught me to trust . It taught me to value fun and celebrate each moment and live with more joy in the heart. Isolation gifted me the connect to myself. It taught me a different lifestyle modification away from social, physical and emotional addiction to people and events. It taught me to cry unashamedly. It taught me to share stories. It taught me to hold hands of strangers and wipe their tears. It taught me to live differently. I am aware in 2020 the glass wall scenario is different but I know that once the veil of uncertainty is lifted there is life just on the other side shaping up differently beckoning our transformed selves. Last time I was unprepared this time I am ready with my journal and a pen to take notes and it begins .Happy birthday to me in 2020.
