MY COVID-19 DIARY #2

The following blog entry includes mostly poetry about my own experience with Covid-19 a year ago in September and October of 2020. I decided to leave most of my writing in its initial and raw form because it vibrates with my physical and mental struggle with the virus. It is a stream of consciousness if you will. It certainly is a desperate attempt to put in words the 19 days of being sick with the virus that changed our lives.


28/9/2020 – 13th day of the virus

Misty it was outside,

so was it inside too,

the soul

got cold and slumber,

giving in the virus’s wishes.

 

29/9/2020 – 14th day of the virus

[walked in the park]

crunching leaves,

fallen down,

so free & careless

fresh rain falls – so silent & at ease

 

30/9/2020 – 15th day of the virus

{isn’t it gone yet?}

Βρέχει φύλλα κιτρινισμένα

ερωτευμένα με το χώμα,

την υγρή πραγματικότητα,

τον αέναο εαυτό μας.

Κουράστηκαν τα δέντρα

από το ατελείωτο καλοκαίρι-

κόπηκε η τροφοδοσία

της φωτοσύνθεσης.

Τώρα ένας άνεμος μένει

να τα πάρει μακριά

να μαραθούν με ησυχία

και φθινόπωρο.

#recovery

The freedom of endless steps

vibrates in me.

I can walk outside again

and smell the fresh air,

inhaling autumn particles

in my clean lungs.

I was lucky,

for it barely touched me,

leaving me with empty nostrils

and tasteless food

and an endless tiresomeness.

This will too pass.

Like everything else in life.

Like the yellowed leaves

traveling with the air

to meet the wet, solid ground.

This will too pass.

I was lucky, for it barely touched me

{crunchy noises-colorful footpaths-wet alleyways. Autumn is here!}

1/10/2020 – 16th day of the virus

October, Welcome.

{slept bad yesterday and was over-energetic and overwhelmed – could not let my thoughts rest}

 

2/10/2020 – 17th day of the virus

treetops turning yellow

I’m craving for some fresh air

to feel my muscles moving again

to experience the silence of the October air.

 

Slowly recovering,

remembering who I used to be.

4/10/2020 – 19th day of the virus

Today was a fine day.


5/10/2020 – [free from virus]

A new week begins with HEALTH

a fresh perspective

a new mindset

and with all

the acceptance we can afford!

The slow tempo of the season

(or is it fast)

reassures me of my steps.

One by one.


This was the second of two blog entries about my Covid-19 experience. If you haven’t read the first one, you can find it here.

PhotoMinolta Dynax 7000i (AF 35-105mm). LomoChrome Metropolis, 100-400 ISO, 35mm film. Seich Sou, Thessaloniki, Greece, December 2020.

My Covid-19 diary #1

The following blog entry includes prose and poetry about my own experience with Covid-19 back in September-October. I decided to leave most of my writing in its initial and raw form because it vibrates with my physical and mental struggle with the virus. It is a stream of consciousness if you will. It certainly is a desperate attempt to put in words the 19 days of being sick with the virus that changed our lives.


20/9/2020 – 5th day of the virus

Uneasy feeling: my stomach refuses food, it feels as if all food has stopped making sense. I want to feel better – so bad. Please let this phone call be quick and painless, like a bandage that’s not needed anymore.

Αυτή η αναμονή με σκοτώνει. Δεν μπορώ να συγκεντρωθώ. Κοιτώ τον ήλιο – αυτόν τον ήλιο που μάτωνε τα γόνατα – τον κοιτώ κατάματα μήπως και μου δώσει απαντήσεις. Το καθαρό μπλε του ουρανού κοιτώ, το καθάριο συναίσθημα που μου δίνει. Χάνομαι στο βάθος αυτού του μπλε, του έντονου μπλε του ουρανού. Γράφοντας κοιτώ το κενό, τα μάτια μου τσούζουν από τον ήλιο. Είμαι ακόμη άρρωστη, να πάρει, κι όμως νιώθω πως η αρχή του τέλους απλά … τελειώνει. Χρειάζομαι ησυχία και γαλήνη και ηρεμία και όλες αυτές τις λέξεις που κρατάς σφιχτά στην αγκαλιά όταν νιώθεις χαμένος. ‘Η γλώσσα είναι σε μένα’. Είναι μέσα μου, βαθιά και αχώριστα στο σώμα μου, μ’ ερωτεύεται κάθε μέρα και εγώ την ερωτεύομαι ξανά και ξανά κάθε φορά που πιάνω τα μολύβια μου. Η έκφραση της ζωής, η εξήγησή της είναι κανόνας μαγικός και δεν μπορώ να ξεφύγω από τα όριά του. Θα ήθελα όλες οι λέξεις μέσα μου να έβγαιναν, σαν γάργαρα νερά να γλιστρούσαν από μέσα μου και επάνω στο χαρτί, λευκό και άτρωτο, μέχρι να γεμίσει λέξεις αναλλοίωτες στο χρόνο.

Exploring an eternity of Septembers, again and again reacting to time and space.

Do you remember that moment in time when you felt the world was going to crush us down? Yes, so many of them – multiple moments, multiple times. Escaping the earthly world to hid behind the words.

21/9/2020 – 6th & 1st day of the virus

Yesterday I received a call that I have Corona. And I do. And it’s in me. And I hate it.

I feel OK. Not too many symptoms. No fever. No cough. I am sneezing today. If I do too much, I feel tired and drained. I want this to be over. I want it to get out of my body. The numbness, the tingling in my head. The swollen glands and loss of smell. I feel utterly confused and violated.

If I do too much, I feel tired and drained. I want this to be over.

The very first day I felt a scratching sensation in my throat. It stressed and scared me, but I moved on to go for a ride with my bike and take pictures. When I reached a certain point in the Onlanden – a wonderful natural region in Groningen – I walked toward the narrow path, only to discover how silent it was. A type of white silence surrounded me, it caressed my ears, almost like an old friend; it spoke to me, told me stories of the past and of the future, stories I would have liked hearing in my sleep. The silence embraced me, tingled my soul and my then full ears. I walked slowly and mindfully, feeling the soles of my feet every step of the way.

The narrow path I took that day

23/9/2020 – 8th day of the virus

I feel numb at times, feeling the need to taste and smell everything I put my hands on. The loss of two of my senses makes me feel incomplete, almost non-human, a development of the virus through my body that I would have never expected. I feel that a big part of me is taken away from me. I feel empty, drained, agitated. And people laugh, they dismiss it. I have to explain how it feels in simple terms, so that they get it. What do they know? It’s so great speaking of it when you’re not experiencing it. I wish they’d shut up about it. “You’re lucky!”, “You should be grateful”, “Don’t overreact”, “It’s just a cold”, just a cold, just a cold, just a cold. If it was just a cold, then why do I feel like that? Totally disconnected from my own body. The thoughts that go through my head are not connected with the ones that I feel through my body. Do you get what I mean? No one seems to get that. This virus is beyond a cold and the way it makes me feel is proof of that. If only I could put it into words. I want to break the barrier between my body and my mind and just write about it, talk about it. I want to be free, to be able to think, to liberate myself from this horrible disease.

If it was just a cold, then why do I feel like that? Totally disconnected from my own body.

25/9/2020 – 10th day of the virus

I am getting better. A veil is slowly lifting off my brain. There is an itch and burning sensation now in my brain and on my face. I still feel tired and managed to work yesterday, but my body starts to ache now like it is awakening from a deep slumber. Tingly face, tingly brain, I feel a little bit more like myself today. It’s been a ride. I feel so grateful, so grateful. Everything has a new light, a new shine, a new allure that I admire. Fall is here and I am grateful to be alive and healthy to experience it. It’s not that I saw death, no. But experiencing the virus was intense, physically but also mentally.

26/9/2020 – 11th day of the virus

The world keeps on moving – as always. I felt frustrated and suffocated again.

floods of … everything

inside my body

[ιέ φύγε απ’ αυτό το σπίτι]

no endings, nor holidays

expect me to find myself again.

I roar at silence

and commence again

my life journey.

Are you with me?

Rain tingles on the window

rough, but subtle sounds emerge,

we cry ourselves to sleep

lucky to have survived

one

more

day.

 

27/9/2020 – 12th day of the virus

Waiting for the day till I find myself again.


This was the first of two blog entries about my Covid-19 experience. Stay tuned for the next article where I document the slow recovery from the virus.

PhotoMinolta Dynax 7000i (AF 35-105mm). Kodak Ektar, 100 ISO, 35mm film. De Onlanden, Groningen, the Netherlands, May 2020.

Paper Flowers

I walked past our street today and saw flowers blossoming on the walls of the building. Bright pink and blue colored flowers were there, like the ones you used to hang above our fireplace every spring morning. You would wake up overwhelmed and struggle to reach your armchair. But, you would ultimately sit down and then open your drawer, determined to get out the paper for the flowers. You would do that straight out of bed, even without drinking coffee. Later on, while holding a hot cup of coffee in your hands, you would admire your own dedication to your little ritual. ‘I am never patient enough to finish anything’ you would say. And I would agree, but I would also kindly remind you of the things you actually accomplish through the day. After getting the hard paper for the flowers, you would take the patterns of a lily and a chrysanthemum and you would carefully and meticulously create something beautiful with it. The flowers were dashing. So simple and so pretty.

The first time you made flowers, right after you came back from the hospital, you thought it was a silly, childish thing. But when you saw how much it helped you, you stopped degrading it. I loved it instantly. Seeing you having something that sparked joy in your yellowed eyes, was all I needed to start believing again. Believe that you would make it. After all those hospital visits and the masks on your face. The looks of pity you were receiving when you lost your hair, and that moment when the doctors said it will not be easy. You were strong and fierce for months, but after the last chemo, you almost gave up. Your eyesight was very damaged and you struggled even with the simple daily things. After a while, you became so tired that you couldn’t even move your hands. You wanted so badly to touch those bouquets next to your bedside table. The texture of flowers soothed you, you used to whisper at night. But that wasn’t enough, you wanted to really look at those flowers. That is when I started asking people to bring you vibrant colored ones. In that way you might enjoy them better, I thought. Later you told me how much it meant to you, to see those beautiful faded colors next to you. It was your everything when you felt you had nothing.

And now, here I am, looking at the real flowers bursting through our wall. It’s so weird. You always created paper flowers to remind you of those difficult times, and the same day you pass away, I see colorful flowers popping on the wall of our building. You would have loved that. You would have laughed so loud with this ironic beauty, the whole neighborhood would have come out to see what’s wrong. You would then smile at them, tell them it’s all good and we would slowly go back inside to finish our tea.

Photo: Kipos, Kozani, Greece. October 2018. Minolta Dynax 7000i, Earl Grey Lomography Film 100, 35mm film.