SARS-CoV-2 and What It Took From Me

People

When the first news broke that a virus was sweeping somewhere on the other side of the world, one felt deep sympathy but followed the events with merely humanitarian concern, as a form of information gathering. The thought crossed my mind about how difficult the situation must be for colleagues there, what they must face, what they must feel all at once while having to make decisions about others and themselves. What a daily struggle that must be. A constant tension deep inside.

Not long after, when it became clear even in our own hospital that this epidemic was more than media hysteria, I began to feel that tension within myself. But the most striking moment was that Friday when I fully realized the real danger—I made decisions instantly and without doubt: I entrusted Ru to my parents, and Csabi to his own family. I had no hesitation about what I had to do. Yet the virus still managed to take people from me without letting me near them. Although my parents live just two streets away, they and my own son might as well have been light years away: I could visit once a week, and even then under complicated circumstances that made deepening real bonds impossible. You almost die inside if you experience that. I saw Csabi only occasionally, then not at all—many losses I can attribute to the virus.

It consumed all our energy; all our focus was mobilized to manage the situation, and for months the outside world almost ceased to exist.

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Time

It took irretrievable, unique, and unrepeatable moments from me, away from Ruben. Precious minutes, hours, whole days, weeks that swelled into months. Never in my life had I been so far from my child as a parent, trying to make him understand—and myself too—that this distance does not separate us. But if you are a mother, your child is not truly under your protection, and isn’t it obvious that you almost lose your own identity? A maddening period, which even with sharply honed self-discipline was a human trial to process inside. Maddening, helpless, lonely, and exhausting times, in which I can count on one hand those who truly understand what I am talking about, beyond words.

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Space

As long as you look only forward, seeing the results of your actions—the only confirmation that days are passing, in segments, not as one continuous mass, as you perceive it—things seem fine. Then after a few months, one evening I got up from the piano and walked the streets, and suddenly realized that I have no connection whatsoever with the world beyond the hospital. This pandemic confiscated streets, squares, waters—and I didn’t even notice.
It emptied the nursery. It checkmated me by making me build walls between me and those I truly love, so I wouldn’t harm them with myself. If you want to be sure, the nursery remains unoccupied for months… Are you selfish and won’t let them in, or responsible and face the consequences day by day…? An empty bed and a half-read storybook.

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Pieces of Myself

What else have I lost…? Tiny pieces of my own being. Everyone could write a thousand little things that have changed in them. Maybe I will write about it another time; now even all of this feels too much. It’s harder to write comprehensively about all this than I thought. Only afterward do I realize every single loss.

My God, what have we been through…? I can only see the outlines now, shapeless silhouettes.

Dated: June 29, 2020