COVID 19 positive in the remote equatorial rainforest

"... because sometimes we need the space to chew on things before any answer can have real weight. Some truths need to happen to us, like when a child feels the cold ocean waves lapping at her feet for the very first time. Such encounters lift us out of ourselves until the world breaks open, becoming suddenly more wild and wondrous than mere moments before. And premature analysis, no matter how airtight, can empty such occasions of their evocative potency." -Justin Rosolino, from his book "Idiot, Sojourning Soul"

I live in an almost mythical place, like a setting in a storybook, it is stunningly beautiful, mind-numbingly mundane in it's same, same everyday and at times also flat-out unpleasant and ugly. The contrasts of light and dark, good and bad are like a furious rainstorm that comes suddenly on a sunny day, a deluge of precipitation that cracks the heat in half and softens the red dirt roads into a myriad of puddles reflecting the sky and trees above like random bowls of rust colored mirrors.

We live on a semicircle of constantly manicured and maintained rainforest half-surrounded by a surging river that sings songs of rushing waters day and night. Our house sits on the tippy top of the hill and as you meander downward you pass dwellings that represent various stages of growth and development since the 1940s, a long-standing-friendly-foreign-occupation that eventually winds down to the Bongolo Hospital campus that has been caring for minds, bodies and souls since the 1970s.

We've been quarantined with strict curfews and closed borders for many months now. We've prepared for and watched the slow crawl of COVID-19 making its way to our remote corner of the rainforest. Our first confirmed case came very quietly and without fanfare a few weeks ago. Just days later my husband, Steve and I became sick with flu-like symptoms. Steve was sick first with fever and chills and body aches. I had a milder version and both of us stayed home for a week or so. We weren't tested at that point. Then on June 23, a Tuesday afternoon, when Steve was feeling fine and out of the woods, I was suddenly hit with a fever and body aches.

I don't have a photo to post of my fevers and misery but this is pretty much how I looked with the exception of a flowing gown covered in lace... not my current fashion choice

Over the next 4 days I had constant fevers, even with meds, and pretty much felt overall horrible. I wasn't dying, I wasn't afraid I was dying but I was barely out of bed and when I walked around it was like my joints had time-warp-aged 40 years into the future. By Friday I realized I had lost my sense of smell/taste and my fevers had broken. I was reporting to everyone that I had turned the corner and I fully expected to be up and about in a few more days. And though I had turned the corner, I'm still mostly in bed nearly 2 weeks after my initial fever. I am grateful that my case is much milder than those that have died and been hospitalized. I never needed oxygen or round the clock professional medical care (although I have greatly benefitted from and appreciated being part of a medical team that makes house calls and has taken great care of me.) However, this virus has been a doozy! I lost 7 lbs in 12 days and until a few days ago I was only out of bed about an hour a day cumulatively. I still have no sense of taste/smell, I know this because I felt well enough to give myself a pedicure and I shockingly couldn't smell the nail polish remover, it's like my sense of smell has been temporarily muted.

We followed the government mandates in not gathering in groups of over 10 people - our team met via zoom-like video conferencing. I wore my mask when I was on the hospital campus whenever I worked (part-time) in the Appro, the building for medicines and supplies. I live and work with the same set of people. We all stayed as distant as we could.

Working in Appro with Papa Mba (*Papa is a title of respect for older men in these parts)

I realized how big an impact not touching other people had on me about a month ago when I was called down the the hospital to give blood for a very sick and chronically ill teenaged patient. I was laying on the narrow bed in the lab when, as per usual, my veins weren't cooperating well and it was taking a dog-year to draw blood. The vein in my left arm essentially slowed to no flow so the decision was made to try another vein in my right arm. At one point I had 3 lab techs surrounding me and touching me, albeit mostly with needles, but they were touching me with their warm-human-gloved-hands! I, like most of you, don't like needles. I usually get embarrassingly weak and faint-like when giving blood. Yet that day I felt strangely comforted as I lay there being poked and prodded. That's when I realized my comfort came from being touched by people (other than Steve) for the first time in months! So even with needles and a bag of blood involved those touches were profoundly life-giving to my touch-starved self!

Did I take all precautions that I possibly could have to avoid getting COVID? Clearly not or I wouldn't have gotten it. Did I recklessly go around living life like there was no pandemic? No, I did not, I took daily precautions and tried to be safe at all times. The added stress of worrying over who I could have possibly infected when I was shedding the virus before I knew I had it has been grievous. It has kept me up at night. I did not and do not want to be somebody's Typhoid Mary.

Over the last 2 years or so Steve and I have been very intentional in making changes to lose weight and exercise regularly. I've lost close to 50 lbs overall and I now run 5-6 mornings a week (2.5 - 4 miles each time I'm out.) I also regularly walk the long and winding road that goes up and down the hill between my house at the tippy top and the hospital down at the bottom. On my iPhone app I clock in up to 40+ floors of steps with another mile or two added on to the morning runs. While I'm not a great athlete by any means I am in the best shape physically I've been in decades. I wonder how much harder it would have been on my body to deal with this virus if I were 50 lbs heavier and living a more sedentary lifestyle? 

a blurry shot of our running squad - Les Femmes du Sport

It seems to me that we have all been given a massive timeout. We have been given space and time to process. Usually we fill our days with endless errands and commitments. We have places to go and people to see! In the midst of all the comings and goings we can lose sight of what's really important. When I was in high school my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 non-hodgkins lymphoma. It was a massive timeout for our family. The normal rhythms of our family's day to day was halted and all our focus was on getting my dad treatment and hoping and praying he would be healed and we could resume our normal life with my dad in it, alive and well. It was a devastating and fearful time. It was also a great gift that allowed us to slow down and really appreciate what is important. I appreciated my dad in striking new ways because all of the sudden I might not have him around. I was woken from a slumber of privilege, the profound privilege of taking for granted my dad's being there, being present in my day to day. I stole one of my dad's empty chemo bags from his hospital room and hung it on my bookshelf as a physical reminder that at one point my dad's life was measured out one bag at a time, drip by drip, the hope of healing, the hope of life continuing disease-free! 

I love the quote above because life is wondrous and wild! We get to experience the highs and lows, the beauty, the mundane and the ugly. Let us use our time well. May we think and grow and live and learn with our eyes wide open! May we appreciate our loved ones in new ways. May we live more generously and others' focused. Let's be about what really matters. Let's lean in to the deep and troubling times and come out more seasoned and mature. Let us appreciate more and love more and serve more. And for the love of everything good and holy please wear your mask! It's a tiny piece of cloth that covers your mouth and nose holes to speak a loud message of care to the vulnerable that surround you. It's such a small thing really. Be wise friends. Let's not take one another for granted. Life is precious.