Jerry Mwaka caught a ‘bad cold’ in corona year but lived to tell the tale
It is just over a year now since the first big lockdowns and other anti-coronavirus measures were announced in East Africa. It has been a grim and tough year. We who have survived it have every reason to celebrate, soberly and reflectively, the blessings we have received through it.
I believe I had mentioned to you that I would be sharing with you some of my experiences of the struggle, if I thought they might be of some enlightenment and encouragement to you in your own battle with the pandemic. I thought it would be easy. I would just tell it as it is and leave you to draw the conclusions.
As the monster struck closer and closer, however, hitting acquaintances, friends and relatives, fatally claiming some and mercifully sparing others, I realised that telling the tale was not as easy as I had assumed. In our sorrows, anxieties and uncertainties over the future, we have only our faith and our stubborn optimism on which to rely. Restraint is also necessary to avoid misleading one another against the findings and guidelines of medical science. Some stories become too close, too painful or too personal to narrate with acceptable fluency.
Fortunately, a close friend, Jerry Mwaka, who has been through a relevant horrifying experience, was willing to tell me his story, with his permission to share it with you if I thought it worthwhile. Jerry is a transnational East African like me, and he had just flown out of Nairobi in March last year when the lockdowns were declared. He stayed put for the next six months in Kampala, where he had landed.
Diabetic and hypertensive
He was glad to see the people there strive to observe all the precautionary measures, standard operation procedures or “sops” as they called them, recommended by the health authorities. He did the same, regularly donning his masks, avoiding crowds, frequently washing and “sanitising” his hands and upping up on his healthy eating and exercising habits. He also took his drugs religiously.
Jerry, you see, is elderly, in his 70s, and he is diabetic and hypertensive, all the stuff the medics call “comorbidity” or pre-disposing conditions, when it comes to the likelihood of catching and suffering from Covid-19, or even worse. He does not, however, drink or smoke. Like most of us, Jerry spent most of his time during the lockup learning about the pandemic and hoping it would go away soon.
The lockdown did affect his activities considerably, since his main operational base is Nairobi, and working at home and virtual transactions had not yet become the norm in those early days of the pandemic. Indeed, sometime in November last year Jerry felt compelled to get back to the City in the Sun. That involved several hurdles, including undergoing elaborate and expensive Covid-19 tests.
Since they turned out negative, which meant he had not caught the virus, Jerry travelled to Nairobi and a few other places around the country. The experience, and experiment, reassured him that the situation was manageable, and, after another test, he returned to Uganda, hoping to travel again soon.
To cut a long story short, early February this year, Jerry noticed that Esther, his housekeeper, a lady in her mid-forties, was sniffling, sneezing and coughing seriously. Ever the cautious type, Jerry gave Esther some cash and advised her to go for treatment and stay home until she had recovered. A few days later, Esther rang to say that her elder sister, with whom she had recently been at a family gathering, had suddenly passed away. Esther, however, eventually got over her cold.
Bloodshot
Meantime, Jerry, too, had caught the cold. He had a fever and he was sneezing endlessly. He was not coughing, but he noticed that he had lost his sense of smell and most of his food had no taste anymore. His eyes were bloodshot and his ears were tingling. Gradually, all hearing in his left ear vanished. A woolliness in his head made it difficult to focus on anything, let alone read any text. There was also a kind of queasiness in his tummy.
To say that this violent and multilateral attack on his ageing body worried Jerry would be an understatement. Even more troubling was the persistence, and indeed, the intensification of the symptoms, in spite of the routine things with which we treat colds.
Fortunately for Jerry, he had been judiciously informing himself of the latest findings on the new virus and he had, like most of us, been sharing information with trusted friends, including those who had actually been diagnosed with Covid-19.
Covid-19 test
The best piece of advice Jerry remembered from the sharing, with both friends and healthcare givers, was “Do not worry and do not panic.” Easier said than done, but there were not many alternatives. Jerry did not consider going for yet another Covid-19 test. These things are difficult and expensive to get on request, and whichever way they come out, the two choices you have are either to go to an isolation and “treatment” centre, or to isolate yourself at home.
Jerry chose to isolate himself at home and work with his healthcare giver to treat whatever was ailing him. Our doctors and other healthcare givers have been able to discover a lot practically in managing and helping the body to fight off these severe ailments in these difficult times. We should not usurp the doctors’ responsibilities by naming remedies and procedures. But people like Jerry Mwaka can assure you that our medics are quite adept at deploying what they already have to take the best care of us.
Jerry got over his ailment, after the better part of three weeks, and I was not surprised to find him first in line for our first Covid-19 vaccination jab. I am sure he, like me, will be there for the second jab later this month.
Incidentally, Jerry is real, but that is not his real name. Stay safe.
