A COVID Tale

By Jing Villamil

 

THE first time ever that their lives touched base, was at the hospital parking lot which, at the time, was chokingly full. One had to ease sideways through narrow space between cars. Two bodies easing sideways through same narrow space was a feat unlikely; but the two doctors managed to do just that. After which, they gave each other a high five. They had heard of the other. Brilliance in their field was not a secret to keep. News got around with each and every release of patients healthier, happier.

After taking a few steps away, they turned their heads back from which, from whom they came. Doc Jay: “I would like to see you again, soon”. Doc Jan: “Yes, we must. In less tight situation, I hope”. And they smiled. They had beautiful smiles, conversations in themselves. Most doctors are short on talks, except when they double as lecturers to the young fledglings. Then they talk long till heads lolled and eyes rolled.

They made sure they did meet. And, since then, their smiles for each other gleamed not only on their faces but on those of their colleagues. They knew finding the other half of your half of a life was so rare and so precious among them who have no luxury of time to pour unto themselves.

They were sun to each other for the next twenty years. Three of the later years were spent in blissful marriage. Why so late to make it official? For one, times then were not yet primed for a controversial permanent relationship such as theirs. And they really had no time! When one was a government scholar and was contracted to care for the people’s health as pay-back immediately upon graduation. . .  one served; one’s self was very far down the line.

Then Covid-19 came to stay. Jan, a specialist on infectious diseases, was made head of the Covid-ICU team. Jay, a cardiologist, assisted in the more severe cases.

And as stories of frontliners went, the team leader was one of the first to succumb. Jan was isolated in a room with plated-glass walls of which afforded him a wide view of the team and their patients. And Jay. Both (nay, all of them!) were crushed, devastated, but no time for that. Lives had to be saved.

At the very last moments of Jan’s life, Jay removed his PPE against protocol, and without protection, laid his forehead and cheek on Jan’s. And hugged him to himself as gentle as he could. He said: “Go ahead, if you must. I will be with you soon enough. For you shall leave me halved; no one should be so halved.” And he imagined Jan smiled. As tears fell from his eyes, Jay took in his mind and heart the whole of Jan covered in pristine-white sheet. And more tears flowed as he saw blue-gloved hands from PPE-clad doctors and nurses laid on the white! The team had softly padded into the room. They were saying goodbye without words, just a gentle press. Then, with the most huge collective sigh, the PPE bodies rapidly dispersed, back to work. As Jan would have expected them.

Of course, Jay inherited Jan’s virus. But his would be another Covid tale.

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