The Unwelcome Presence of a Lingering Pandemic
The passing of time feels swift and unforgiving, as the Sambok Salt Spring clings onto the month of August. Uninvited visitors, likened to leeches, wage a deadly battle, reminding us once again of the fear brought forth by the coronavirus. It was during the middle of April last year when the world around me took a sudden turn.
On a warm and vibrant spring day, when the fields were adorned with yellow canola flowers, I unexpectedly felt an intense fever engulf my body. A cold sweat poured out of me, and even though I desperately tried to suppress it, a cough tore through my throat, worsening the pain. These symptoms, which initially appeared mild in the morning, escalated with every minute that passed in the afternoon. It felt as though my energy was being drained from my very being, akin to melting ice cream during the scorching summer heat. Just to ease my worries, I decided to check, only to find two vivid red lines.
At that precise moment, my phone rang, and on the other end was a call from the nursing home where my mother resided. The calls from the nursing home always carried an air of urgency, leaving me anxiously wondering what awaited me. Beating with anticipation, I picked up my mobile phone, only to be confronted with the heartbreaking news that my mother had contracted the coronavirus. Even the meticulously quarantined nursing home was bound to its knees in helplessness.
The pandemic’s grip on society had already barred us from visiting our loved ones, but it felt as though my mother and I shared our infection in some distant realm. A mother who had no knowledge of what the coronavirus entailed would surely have felt immense sadness and confusion over why her family couldn’t come and visit her. Even the weekly visits from family members became a source of concern.
Perhaps through some unspoken connection, my mother and I experienced the depths of the coronavirus together. Our lives became confined within the walls of a negative pressure room in a university hospital, where access was strictly controlled. In this situation, one person was infected, and the other played the role of protector.
Fortunately, it wasn’t the coronavirus this time. Rather, it was the most severe bout of flu I had experienced in years. When I was younger, a few days of medication would’ve been enough to vanquish most flus, but as age caught up with me, such measures proved inadequate. In addition to the dwindling energy and motivation, my resistance against diseases seemed to have waned.
Regardless of the amount of medicine I consumed, a persistent cough ravaged my throat, accompanied by a throbbing headache, dry nostrils, and an incessantly runny nose. Desks became cluttered with tissues, and the scorching heat outside prevented me from turning on the air conditioner or a fan. The harsh breeze chilled my shoulders and neck, causing further bouts of sneezing. The power of an invisible virus was enough to shatter one’s desire to live, leaving one with no motivation or inclination to engage with the world. It seemed as though everything had come to a standstill.
However, I reminded myself that life’s journey is not solely comprised of joyous moments. It encompasses both pain and happiness, with sunny and rainy days alike. Even if the yoke of life bore unavoidable pain, it too shall pass. Nothing is eternal.
After a month filled with hospital visits, reminiscent of a rat scurrying through tall grass, I finally found stability and began casting my line for hope. Nevertheless, we remain uncertain of when the virus, capable of disrupting our peaceful daily lives, will rear its head once again. This summer’s flu serves as a stark warning, urging us to fortify our defenses for the future. The nutrients on our tables, often overlooked before, now capture our attention.
New Jeju Daily
cjnews@jejuilbo.net
I don’t know how the month went by. Unwelcome guests cling to the Sambok Salt Spring like leeches and fight to the death, and it’s already August. Last July, when every day was heavy and even the energy was sinking, the fear of corona came again.
This was around the middle of April last year. On a warm spring day when the yellow canola flowers were rolling, my body suddenly became hot as a furnace, a cold sweat poured out, and the cough that came out even though I tried to hold it back was tearing my sore throat even more. The symptoms, seen little by little in the morning, got worse every minute as the afternoon progressed. Like ice cream melting in the middle of summer, energy drained from his body. I checked it just in case, and two red lines were drawn.
At that very moment, I received a call from the nursing home where my mother was. Nursing home calls are always impatient. what will happen I opened my mobile phone with a beating heart, and sure enough, my mother was infected with the corona. Even the nursing home, which was normally thoroughly quarantined, collapsed helplessly.
Even visits were blocked because of corona, but it was as if my mother and I were infected at the same time in a distant space… . A mother who didn’t even know what corona was, would have been very sad and confused why her family didn’t come to visit her. The family members who visited once a week were also concerned.
I wonder if the seriousness was communicated to each other, my mother and I were able to do it through the extreme prescription of Corona. I had a precious moment caring for my mother for a week, locked in a negative pressure room in a university hospital with strict access control. This was the infected and the protector.
Fortunately, it wasn’t Corona this time. This was the worst flu I’ve had in years. When I was young, I could easily get rid of most flus by taking medicine for three or three days, but now that I’m old, it seems insufficient. Compared to the decrease in energy and motivation, the resistance to the disease has increased.
No matter how much I swallow, I get a sore throat from a cough that melts like a spring, a throbbing headache, dry nostrils, and a nonstop runny nose. Toilet paper is messy on the desk. Even when it’s hot, I can’t turn on the air conditioner or the fan. The cold wind chills my shoulders and neck, causing more sneezing. The power of an invisible virus destroys the will to live so much. There is nothing I want to do. Mansa is a world of gijanism.
make up your mind again Life’s long journey will not only have good moments. I would say that human life repeats pain and happiness. There are days when the sun shines warmly and there are days when it rains and blizzards. Even if the yoke of life is pain that cannot be avoided anyway, this too will pass one day. Because nothing is forever
After going back and forth to the hospital like a rat in a grasshopper for about a month, he finally found stability and began fishing for hope. However, we do not know when the virus that destroys our peaceful daily life will invade again. This summer’s flu seems to be a warning to build stronger defenses in the future. Nutrients on the table, which were usually ignored, are attracting attention today.
New Jeju Daily cjnews@jejuilbo.net
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