Battling with COVID: My Personal Stories

By Dr Syed Raza

The  book  is  a  reflection  of  my  personal  and professional  experiences  during the COVID pandemic . This  book  will  take  the  reader  through a  journey  of  emotions – despair,  distress , hopelessness, helplessness  and resilience that  we  have  all  experienced  battling  this  dreaded infection. Surely, the  reader is going  to find himself  or  herself  somewhere in the book to relate to. Each  chapter  of the  book  tells  a  story  in itself . Although  the  stories  are  different from each  other , they carry a   common  theme  of  misery, sufferings  ,  diseases  and  deaths.  A  chapter  is  dedicated to where  I  become a  victim  of  COVID myself  and  I  become seriously  ill  to  an  extent  that I  see death from  close. This  is  also  a reflection on the fact  that  healthcare  professionals  have  been  very  vulnerable to  COVID and  many  unfortunately  lost  their  own  lives  while saving lives of  others . May they all  rest in peace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Rose Publishers
• Release date: Dec 5, 2022

Book preview

Chapter 01

All on alert – COVID is here

Have you ever noticed that being a doctor gets boring sometimes? I looked at my colleague, Dr. Jassim and sipped on a cup of coffee while we did rounds.

Well, it's boring only if you think of it that way. He laughed under his breath and continued, How is your patient doing, the one with the funky hair?

We walked along the corridors, checking and peeping into rooms now and then and ticking off the boxes on our charts.

He's okay, just so stubborn. he never wants to have his medicines on time. He says it's against his beliefs or some nonsense. To be honest, I don't get patients of this generation. What's up with the creepy black look, though? I said with a look of disgust that crossed my face.

You mean emo? Dr. Jassim looked at me, holding back a laugh.

Once we had finished our rounds, I walked towards the room occupied by the emo patient, as Dr. Jassim had described him to be.

The lights in the room were dim, and the patient was fast asleep; his snores wafted along the corridor to let the nurses know he would be off their heads for a while. I walked toward the beeping monitor and looked at his pulse rate and other vitals. They all looked normal, and I knew he could soon go home if he continued to take the medication, I prescribed instead of shooting the pills out of his mouth into the bin at the far end of the room as if it were a game of basketball.

As I stepped out of the room, my pager went off, vibrating in the pocket of my stark white coat, and as I looked at it, my eyebrows furrowed with concern. The last time I was paged to be in the emergency unit was more than a week ago.

As I speed walked towards the emergency unit, a flurry of thoughts and fears started crowding in my head. The hospital lights blinded me as I tried to reach the ER faster than I could; I had a gripping feeling in my stomach, my heart racing faster than usual. Panting for breath and had a cold sweat running down my cheek. I had not felt like this for a long time and certainly didn't entirely like what I felt.

The emotions and feelings I had experienced on that walk towards the ER were normal for the situation I was about to face.

Blinding lights and a flurry of movements.

What? What is it? My eyes widened as I watched a group of nurses push patients on. It was, something I had never seen before.

Patients lay on the beds, their bodies akin to shrivelled banana peels curled up in odd positions, their coughs pained my ears, and their groans concerned the resident doctors and nurses. Sputum was splattered all over the place. It was as though their heavy, racing breaths were competing with each other. Whilst a couple of them were mumbling, help me, doctor, please help. One chanted prayer as though he was aware he was going to leave this world, while the majority lay lifeless and lacked the strength for any prayers. There was one thing in common I noticed– fear in their eyes. A gripping fear that I had never seen before. A fear that was never thought of or addressed before.

What is wrong, Haseeb? I looked at a male nurse who was now pushing a stretcher toward the ICU. I was late, and the resident doctor had already instructed them on what to do. Haseeb’s voice was shaky, and he stuttered while he explained what was happening. His upper lip was dotted with droplets of sweat, and his eyes showed no sign of confidence. I knew this wasn't something he had handled before; Haseeb was the most experienced and confident nurse I knew.

I don't know, doctor Syed. I just don't know. I think It's better you remain in the ER. I stopped following the bed and walked toward the ER, and as I walked, I contemplated what could be the possible problem.

It can't be a simple viral illness that we have treated before. After all, why would a patient with the common cold be wheeled to the ICU? Surely, Haseeb wouldn't have looked so worried. It can't be an accident; the patients didn't look injured. They looked sick. Just sick. My brain raced, and my thoughts were all over the place, making it difficult to focus on the pressing situation in front of me.

The door slid open as another stretcher was pushed in. At that moment, I realized that if I didn't do anything quickly, the vulnerable and sick patients would die. I was having a series of flashbacks of my medical experience and training in dealing with seriously ill and helpless patients. But the current situation in front of my eyes seemed different. This is something different. I whispered to myself while my lips and tongue dried up and from the rapid breaths, I kept taking in due to my increased heart rate. This was a new experience, and despite my good intentions and strong will to save precious lives, I didn't seem to have enough resources or expertise to save the person I had confidently taken charge of. Family members and attendants of patients cried out in despair. Some looked really angry, whilst others just seemed helpless. For a moment, I began to lose confidence, just like Haseeb. That moment taught me that we, as doctors, can also be vulnerable and powerless despite our years of education and training. I had taken Hippocrates' oath to save lives many years ago but didn't foresee a situation like this in my wildest dreams.

Later that evening, I remained seated in my room, my skin had dried in the AC, and I scraped it, creating white lines as I thought back to the incident in the afternoon. I couldn't remove the number 2:22 from my mind; it was as though it had been burned into my soul permanently.

The first of many? Covid, huh? I said out loud.

And as I leaned back in my swivel chair and scrolled through the news on my phone, one headline, in particular, stood out.

We cannot say this loudly enough, or enough, or often enough: all countries can still change the course of this pandemic. -WHO director general.

It was not the fact that there was no cure right now that scared me. It was that the whole situation seemed unpredictable, and we were powerless.

A doctor can have the will to cure a disease, but sometimes the situation can predict a different outcome beyond the doctor's capacity to control altogether.

We weren't granted the sweet essence of time to save lives; time was our enemy, we worked against it, and somehow, we were losing. We were constantly losing the battle against the unseen enemy, an enemy that wasn't even visible through the best and sophisticated microscopes.

******

The following didn't get worse as I thought it would; instead, the number of infected patients that entered the hospital remained almost constant, and my hope grew. It left me glowing as we continued treating them with medicine we thought would work and do good eventually.

This isn't so bad after all, I thought as I sat in my room waiting for a regular patient to enter. The fact that we had everything under control calmed my nerves and didn't make it seem as nerve-wracking as I thought it would be.

Hi, how are you? What can I help you with? I smiled warmly to make the lady in front of me feel better.

Not so good, doctor; I have had this terrible stomach pain, she said, and held the top left side of her stomach to indicate where it was hurting.

After I had given her the appropriate medication and she left, I leaned back in my swivel chair. I looked at the certificates that hung on the wall behind me.

Normalcy. Something that wasn't appreciated enough, yet people complain about everything they wish they could have had during times of peace and happiness. Whenever I look back at those mundane, regular encounters with patients, the breaks between seeing patients, and the cups of coffee with colleagues, I realize I have not been thankful for all those small blessings.

In whatever perspective you view it, having a cup of coffee seemed one million times better than scrambling around a hospital looking for the medicine that a patient required.

I stood up and walked towards the door, and as I reached for the door, I paused and looked back at the picture on my table- a picture of my father and myself right after I graduated. I looked so happy- my teeth exposed, my heart riding on the happiness of that moment, and my laughter floated through the picture as I remembered what my father had told me.

Son, now we need to find a suitable girl to tie your knots with.

Dad, why so soon? I still need to complete my higher studies and get lot more degrees. Let me be free- at least for few more years. I said this with laughter in my voice.

‘Son everything should be done at the right time’. I smiled back without saying anything but could sense his sound judgement and advice for which I have been ever so grateful.

I opened the door and walked out, leaving the memories of the one person who had always been my biggest source of inspiration and motivation.

Ayesha, how many more patients do I have for today?

About 14 more and some covid patients as well.

Okay, let them know I'm going on a break for half an hour.

Sure, Dr. Syed!

As I walked out of the hospital and towards the cafe across the street that sold the best coffee I had ever had in my life, I contemplated the effect of covid on bodies and the possible harm it could have in the long run. So long as we can control it and it doesn't get out of hand, we should be safe. I thought.

It had become a habit of mine to pout and furrow my eyebrows when I was deep in thought; it was Haseeb who laughed one day and pointed it out.

What are you so serious about, doctor? Why are your lips all pouty? he had the loudest laugh, which vibrated the ground and all the things around him- like a steady rumbling of the earth caused by a herd of laughing buffalos.

These were all moments I had not appreciated enough. Moments that had not received enough thanks and not given enough thought. It was these moments that I craved during the height of the pandemic.

I would have given anything to be transported back to those almost carefree times, moments where we had not had death lingering in hindsight.

Death and suffering. We were not ready for those two realities. We had not mentally prepared ourselves enough. We had been so caught up hoping and believing our lies.

It won't get worse.

The covid patients are recovering.

We can get through this; it doesn't seem as deadly as in other countries.

It's probably a different variant. God is kind to us!

I sipped on the coffee and munched on the tuna sandwich as I scrolled through the news and read about the situation in China. It was terrible, and I had prayed day and night it wouldn't get that bad here in Bahrain. The trees outside the cafe shivered in the breeze; their leaves fell onto passing pedestrians, and cyclists who entered the cafeteria to pick up orders. The birds flitted about, and at that moment, I had forgotten my whole purpose, the fears and stress of covid, and the ever-growing line of patients that remained seated outside my room.

I had become one with the bustle of the cafe and let the aroma of coffee and cakes fill my being.

Peace. Something I wouldn't experience for a long time in the near future.

******

The following week, the number of covid patients had increased by 20%, and I didn't let this gradual increase affect my demeanour. The waiting area was now at total capacity with a mix of covid patients and regular patients, not afraid of each other, not running away from each other, not demanding to be put in separate rooms, not losing humanity in the process of being treated for a deadly disease.

People remained same since they weren't aware of the deadly nature of the virus. All the patients sat beside each other, oblivious and unaware that they could contract the disease and die.

No one wants to die; the only possible thing all humans do, even in their last breath, is to muster up the will to fight for another breath, another second, another minute, another day. They would do anything, give up anything, to spend a little more time with their loved ones.

It was not that we blatantly let them sit next to each other to watch them get infected, only for us to not have the ability to treat them in the first few months; instead, we were just like the oblivious patients that sat in the waiting room. We were just as ignorant and unaware. We were the same, and all we could do was advice based on what we had read and seen online. So, we let them remain seated next to each other, another action that I will continue to regret for the rest of my life, an act that cannot be reversed or changed. An action that would define the following year.

Ayesha, how many patients do I have today?

45 and 20 of them have the symptoms of covid.

Hmm, okay, send them in individually and let them know I have to leave by 1 for lunch.

She nodded and left the room to work her magic with the patients and ensure none of them would get restless and make a scene in the waiting area. She had been one of the best nurses who had worked under me. Her organized, methodical way of getting things done on time made working with her easy. She was extremely short and thin and had the slightest sneeze I had ever heard- it reminded me of bells tinkling. Despite her innocent demeanour, she was firm when she needed to be with complex patients. She often worked her magic to ensure they remained patiently in their seats.

I saw patient after patient and second-guessed all the medication I prescribed for the patients that showed symptoms of covid. Despite the doubts that clawed at my peace like ravens in my mind, I pushed forward with the hope that I was trying my best and was just as helpless.