Two Years To Become Erin

Chapter 5 - Beginning, Middle, and End

It was probably around ten in the evening, when we heard a loud bang inside Jeany's room. My sister opened the door and we found Erin on the ground, unconscious and burning hot with a fever. Right then, we had to call the hospital.

My sister knew the risk of touching her, but she did it anyway. Erin was carried to her bed and we waited for the ambulance to arrive. After an hour, we were all brought to the nearest isolation facility.

Jeany, Roland, and I had to be examined as well.

I saw my sister in tears. She was worried for Erin. But she's even more afraid for me. I wanted to comfort my sister, but I was equally lost as well.

Am I going to die soon?

I asked myself in silence as the nurse instructed me to follow her. Words couldn't come out of my mouth as I watch things unfold before me. I didn't know what to do. I heard Jeany scream, "Please take care of my brother!" as our distance grew wider. I didn't know that that was the last time I would hear her voice for the next couple of weeks.

A few things were clear about the virus.

It attacks the respiratory system.

The virus can thrive in one place for at least two to three days.

The virus can stay at least 7-10 days inside the human body.

If nothing happened within 14 days after the infection, you are likely safe.

We arrived at one of the hospital's separate buildings, near the edge of the property. I was brought inside a dull-white room with one window looking out towards the murky green pond of the hospital. A pair of nurses covered in thin, white plastic suits came in and brought a cart of test kits.

One nurse held a clipboard in her left hand and started asking me a set of questions from the paper attached to her clipboard. She asked if I was feeling feverish, and I said no. Next, she asked me if I had a cold or cough, if I had been vomiting, or if I had been feeling dizzy and nauseous over the past few days. I shook my head and insisted that I was fine. They all seemed skeptical and asked once more if I had lost my sense of taste and smell at any point. I repeated what I said and told them I was alright. The shock and chaos of what happened were what kept me mentally out of shape.

The nurse with the clipboard finished ticking her checklist and looked down at me. They told me they were going to test me for Covid-19. The second nurse propped my chin up and asked me to open my mouth with the tongue sticking out as flat as possible. A rubbery tube—similar to a Q-tip—went through my orifice. Its fibrous head bumped all the way through toward the wall of my throat. I gagged on the process but the nurse sternly reminded me to keep still. When the tube was pulled out, the nurse then instructed me to tilt my head up as if I was looking up to the sky. Another Q-tip-like instrument pored through my nostrils and forced its way to the edge of my nasal cavity. A strong, acidic sensation wriggled inside and I felt my eyes tear up. After the procedure, the two nurses left my room and told me to rest.

They said I had to wait for at least five days before the result would come out.

I sat next to the window of my room and watched the sun move across the sky from east to west. A lot of thoughts came through my head as I watched the colors shift from purple to pink, a fiery orange, then to a dusty shade of blue.

Will I make it out here alive?

Is my sister alright?

Is Erin still alive?

Thoughts ran through my head like a mouse trapped inside a cage, scurrying through the walls finding an exit. This went on for over three days, an endless circle of nothing but redundant, hopeless questions.

I was almost about to lose my mind. It's been five days and I've seen nothing but the same white walls and the endless blue sky outside. There was no one to talk to. The only time I get to see another human being was when the food ration comes about. But even the nurse barely speaks unless spoken to; unless it's essential to.

I couldn't resist it anymore. I slid the window open, pulled down my mask, and breathed in the air from outside. The wind came through and brushed my face gently. The sensation felt so calming, so refreshing, it was as if I'm alive again. The air reminded me that I am still human, I am still breathing, and I'm still sane.

Suddenly, the door of my room swung open and I hastily shut the window back and pulled up my mask. I panicked. I was told not allowed to pull down my mask to contain the virus from floating through the air. But my better sense didn't prevail.

Yet, instead of hearing an earful of reprimand, the doctor insisted to open the window again.

"Congratulations. The test came back negative,"

I stared blankly at the doctor. I didn't know what to say.

Words weren't immediately available at that time, but my eyes spoke for me instead. Tears streamed down my face. I was just so grateful to be alive. An incredible amount of weight has been lifted off of my chest at last.

The doctor waited for me to calm down from crying. He told me to wait 9 more days to complete my quarantine. If nothing else would happen to me within that period, I'm safe to go home.

I eventually regained the composure to ask other important questions. With a shaky voice and a stuffy nose, I asked about my sister's condition.

I could see beyond his glasses and breathing mask the twitching of his facial muscles the moment I mentioned Jeany. My heart went cold and numb. Whatever it was that I was going to hear, it was probably not good.

A heavy sigh escaped the doctor's chest as he snatched the stool from across the bed and sat on it. He brushed one hand across his scalp and wriggled his nose.

"Your sister caught the virus," he said directly.

The instant, gratifying sensation quickly shifted into a piercing sensation of fear and distress.

"Don't worry. Your sister is fighting bravely against the disease," he said. "Her immune system is surprisingly strong,"

The doctor said my sister just needed a mountain of rest and plenty of vitamin C and other immunity-boosting medications. He added that I should just focus on my own health and pray that both of us would get out of the hospital soon.

It must have been the longest 14 days of my life. I've already memorized the number of grids drawn above my ceiling, the distinct shade of green of the pond outside, and the rhythmic coughing of my AC every three hours of the day.

The fifteenth day came and I was finally discharged from the hospital. Roland and my sister waited for me in the courtyard of the hospital.

I was brought down to tears after seeing Jeany again. She's alive and well. I ran towards her and wrapped myself in her arms. I was just so glad she survived. I turned around to the staff and bowed endlessly down to my waist. I thanked the doctors and nurses with tears still damp on my cheeks.

However, that little, glorious reunion quickly shattered into dread and darkness.

Erin died. Last night.