A couple of months ago, the dreaded C19 entered our house from where or when we had no idea. But it came, unexpectedly, unwanted, uninvited. Fortunately, my husband and I got it simultaneously, and the kids were spared even though we had no possible chance of self-isolating from them. Our symptoms were mild, and apart from the nasty cough (me) and fatigue (him), we were good. Praise the Lord.
But then I started noticing funny things.
The first is the prolonged cough I had that only went away after a couple of weeks. With it were these weird chest pains whenever the air conditioning was too cold. But without air conditioning, I was too hot. It was as though my body couldn’t regulate the temperature properly.
Then I realised that I would start hyperventilating to the point it would be hard for me to breathe when I inhaled the smell of floor cleaners while cleaning the bathrooms or mopping the floors. I couldn’t do it anymore.
That was physical.
Mentally was even harder. I had brain fog. I couldn’t remember dates and times, I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do.
The worst was I couldn’t remember words. I would lose my train of thought. I would stop mid-sentence because I was struggling to get my point across. It felt like I was losing my mind. I was also losing my ability to write and that was so emotional for me as I had always used my writing to express myself, engage with others, and comment on a particular topic of the day or time. Without words, I felt like I had lost a huge part of myself. I felt inadequate. At one point I even felt worthless as I had nothing to say.
I would try writing a few lines, and then get stuck for ideas. Because of that, I would leave the computer, hoping to come back when the ideas came. But there weren’t any to come. Therefore I would have draft after draft of stories that I couldn’t finish, line after line of disjointed sentences.
I was a wreck. I decided to stop writing altogether. I felt that I had not only lost my words, but I had also lost myself. It felt surreal. I busied myself with other things, things just to keep me going. Mundane everyday things that I did on pilot mode. Lost inside, I was looking for ways to engage outside, but since my social life was close to nil, I couldn’t share my thoughts with anyone. All I knew was to write, as I for one was never a verbal type of person.
I almost gave up.
Thank goodness Ramadan came. I gave writing a backseat and concentrated on the spiritual. Ramadan left.
Now I am back. Trying to find myself again, trying to catch up on those times lost. The times when I had ideas in my head but then the ideas would just be like fluff in the wind, stopping for a moment before it went off again. Nowadays when I think about a topic, I have to write it down. Create a mind map of my points and ideas. Think about how I could expand those ideas. Sometimes even ask my husband to translate my words. To think of a better sounding phrase. Things that he would have asked me to do before.
Covid brain fog is real. It is so real that you shouldn’t even be questioning a person who has it. It is not fun. Sometimes it is like temporary amnesia. It is not made up. This is my personal experience with it and I do not wish it on another person, ever. Because it hurts. Just as the coughing and the wheezing and the short of breathless hurt, losing your words also hurt. Especially when you depend on words for a living.
SuriyaNoor is a content writer under Headliner by Newswav, a programme where content creators get to tell their unique stories through articles and at the same time monetize their content within the Newswav app.
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