typing... "Alive for now! Thanks and take care!" *send*

I was so angry.

When I’m angry I cry, which infuriates me even more! “TEAR DUCTS! THIS IS NOT THE TIME!!”

Angry that I wasn’t permitted to attempt to recuperate at home.

I can stay home and heal, the fever will go down, I’m so sure!! Please let me just do this at home!

Please!!

The doctors didn’t agree with me, apparently.

The thing is, I don’t trust people to hold up their end of the bargain (rightfully so, they consistently prove to me that they cannot be trusted.

We’re year three into the pandemic.

Everyone seems to be rolling with it.

Either that or they’re in denial.

I think mostly it’s a lot of them just not caring anymore.

Because literally by April 2020 everyone was ready for it to be over.

We went into lockdown in mid-March 2020 (heavy on the eyeroll).

And a whole lot of them acted on their readiness which brought on fresh waves.

Some coped with living in a pandemic better than others.

By coped I mean lived through and as a result affected others in such and such way.

We collectively blamed our respective governments (rightly so) and simultaneously shirked accountability for our own poor choices which definitely contributed largely to the spread each time.

All this to say, albeit, under duress caused by this mysterious murderous illness and the general human tendency to be gigantic inconsiderate assholes, the human race proved that an overwhelming percentage of us were done with putting in the effort and decided to give up on the idea of being team players when it was needed the most.

Hence, an absolute lack of trust.)

I can utilise my brain and common sense and exercise caution and restraint but I cannot force others to do the same.

People do what they want and more often than not, it is devoid of the greater good in mind; it is selfish, instant gratification.

Once infected, I reached a point where I was no longer in a position to refuse hospitalisation.

In my head, “oh great I’m going to die in a place I can’t stand because I’m going to be surrounded by others like me who are infected.”

I wasn’t overreacting.

I walked onto the hospital premises and the healthcare professionals are covered up in full PPE and are careful in their interactions.

It was the patients around, 90% of whom I saw maskless for the most part. You know it, below the chin, below the nose, nowhere in sight.

8 days in, patients don’t seem to give a shit about Covid protocol, it’s enough to turn a reasonably cautious person anxious.

Great.

I’m going to die here.

You guys.

I found it.

My silver lining for this hospital stay.

I was already cautious with the absolute refusal to leave the house or even meet people.

Now, after being witness to how multiple Covid patients behave, I now know for sure I do not and cannot trust other people who are not healthcare professionals.

The mask and physical distancing are just going to be a part of my life hereon.

I think I will begin to relax a little when the death count or patient count is down to zero and stays at zero for more than 6 months.

If that doesn’t happen, because viruses suck and people do too, I’m okay with being this level of cautious.

People don’t care.

I do though.

So I’ll continue to do my part.

Do you see?

I was livid.

(Partially written a few days ago: the part about being 3 years in and the rest written in May 2021)