The Patient at 10:00 am
SALENA PARKER
April 8, 2020
It is, once again, 10:00 a.m. in the morning; and, I am, once again, in front of my burlap curtain-covered window at my rickety, black desk attempting to be productive today by any means necessary. COVID-19 hasn’t met me—yet—and hopefully never will; however, I’m suffering from a sickness of some sort. Maybe you can help me?
Here are my symptoms:
It all started with a cough. It was innocent enough, at first. In the early days, I’d be reading an article and then all of a sudden: my breath would catch, I’d put a hand up to my mouth, and release the breath in a loud, shaky wheeze. This would happen once or twice a day. It didn’t mean anything, I thought, it was just a cough. But then, as is its way, the media began to say that Coughs meant something horrible was coming. Coughing on the street near others transformed from a common happenstance to something to be repulsed at; this bodily function (and others) had become almost taboo. A few weeks later, a Cough escaped me as I was making dinner. I quickly scanned around the room; my eyes sharp and looking for passers-by. No one heard me, thank God. But then I realized: I was alone.
Then came the tiredness. It wasn’t as weak as the Coughing or as rigorous as the pain in my lungs that would appear later in this ordeal. It was just there—watching me. Tiredness doesn’t have sharp claws or secret super-abilities like a fever; yet, it left me just as comatose as the flu. It watches me as I work on re-mapping my courses and doctoral work; Tiredness is standing over me now, waiting for me to slip up—to give in to its slow, seeping weariness. The worst part is I’ve seen Tiredness before. With these other symptoms, it seems stronger than it was back then.
After about a week, Fever set in. Not only was my body wracked with chills that seemed to pierce my bones, but I’d turn on the TV or glance at Facebook and all I’d see is panic and denial and stress and a palpable fervor that leaked out of the screen and into my skin, making me colder. Did those people on the streets and in boats with their masks have what I had? Were they wrestling with Tiredness, Fever, and Cough, too? Or was this the thing the media was trying to warn me about: COVID-19?
Someone recommended exercise to get out (by this point, stay-in-place had been set in motion) so I did. I went outside and basked in the light grey sky and soft, chilly breeze. I relished in seeing nature and something that wasn’t confined in the walls of my apartment. Then I glanced over my shoulder to see a man scowling at me as if I was a piece of pond scum that had transformed into a living, breathing, thing. Maybe it was the Fever, or the Tiredness that did it, but I quickly turned around and scuttled back inside to my apartment (which at this point, feels more like a cage).
Now, there’s a constant stabbing in my lungs. I think it’s not COVID-19, but from helplessness. It pops up as I scan discussion posts and read phrases like “I’m not ready for this”, or “I didn’t ask for this” on papers and the like. Sometimes, the pain ebbs away every few hours; other days, my lungs are wood and this pain is sandpaper and I am left with nothing to do but have my confidence scraped away layer by layer until I am left without confidence, or worry, or anything. On the worst days, the pain slowly increases from stabs to invisible, guttural punches that leave me constricted, wide-eyed and hyper-aware of how weak my body my is right now.
So, what do you think? Is this COVID-19? Or is it something more manageable? Do you have anything for me to take to get rid of this? More importantly, do you have anything for me to give to my students? Anything I could say or write that would help them with their Tiredness? Their Worry? Their Coughs and Fevers?
SALENA PARKER is a Professor of English at Collin College and is currently pursuing a PhD in Rhetoric at Texas Woman's University. She has published in CCTE Studies as well as the online newsletter National Geographic Travel. She lives in Denton, Texas.
