Meanwhile, we seriously debated over who brought the virus. I was fairly sure that uncle had passed it to me, but in reality, it could’ve been anyone of those who made that 324-kilometer journey to Srirangam. The reality dawned that the virus was inside me with the not-too-subtle threat to my life. The fear, the uncertainty and the possibility of having to stay in an isolation ward, be it a faint one, somehow made the thought of who passed the virus irrelevant.
August 17: My uncle complained of breathlessness and was sent to a private hospital on an ambulance. We kept getting the news that he was stable and was off the ventilator.
August 19: I spent the whole day at the hospital, getting my lung scanned and testing the other vitals. At the end of the ordeal, a doctor examined the evidence and declared that I could remain in home isolation. I smiled in relief at the pronouncement and was taking a bumpy autorickshaw ride home when my phone buzzed, and my sister broke the news that the family unanimously decided to admit me to a hospital. My brother had already spoken with the doctors at the hospital treating my uncle and I had to just divert the autorickshaw.
And it hit me like a lightning bolt: I’m headed to the hospital and should spend time in complete isolation. My mom, daughter or aunty won’t be around to assure me I was getting better. I won’t smell coffee brewing in the kitchen, the sound of pressure cooker releasing the steam with the wonderful aroma of rice and dal. In its place there’ll be the smell of disinfectant.
As the autorickshaw wound its way around near-empty streets, the rage welling inside me became uncontainable.
“I Don’t deserve this,” I fulminated at mom, aunty and others standing at the door at home. Obviously, I wouldn’t like to go straight to the hospital and had come home, defying their demands.
The phone buzzed and my sister tried to reason. “You might feel normal, but if your blood oxygen levels were to drop, you’ll have breathlessness. It’ll be dangerous to your life if we couldn’t take you to a hospital. The best thing would be to get admitted right now and remain in medical care until the infection recedes, “she said.
“But what about having to be alone? What if I die alone?” I screamed, unable to control my tears. The rage still fizzing out like champaign from an uncorked bottle, I accused my sister and others of abandoning me.
Mom cried helplessly, but everyone pretty much stuck to their guns. They gave me a full night’s time to mentally accept the reality of hospitalization.
Early next morning, driver Swamy knocked the door to my room. Still fuming over the prospect of isolating myself in a hospital room, I walked off with a tight face, ignoring mom’s greetings that I should get back home soon.