Forcing Myself to Rest for a Whole Day
The day before yesterday I was deathly ill, and yesterday was another busy day. At noon when I contacted my father, he was carrying bundles of straw used as firewood, one bundle after another, from downstairs up into the small attic on the third floor. I quickly told him to stop and not overexert himself. The old man, over seventy, has worked hard all his life and can't sit still; just after being badly mauled by COVID, he'd started laboring again as soon as he improved. My son is in his senior year and has no time off either, starting online classes Monday. My wife works at school and couldn't take leave either, returning to work Monday. The whole family is in a no-sick-leave state.Relapse after recovering from COVID is easy, and exertion and wind-cold are the main triggers; relapse harms the body even more. So once you fall ill, whether symptoms fade quickly or slowly, you should rest one to two weeks. Today I asked for leave for my son, telling him to rest and not to worry about the college entrance exam. In such an age, no university matters as much as keeping your health.But my wife still has to teach, because there's no one to substitute for her. COVID already hurts the throat, and lecturing nonstop all morning left her voice so faint by the end that I could barely make out what she was saying; in that moment I truly felt for her as a teacher. Luckily, for the rest of this week she need only do clerical work, not lecture.Today I pushed back everything I could and forced myself to rest. We cannot fall ill again; others matter, but we matter too. Apart from a few calls from hometown relatives asking for help, I didn't want to do anything all day—just stared blankly at home, too lazy even to reply to messages.Yesterday, when I dropped a parcel at the locker and fetched water from the dispenser, I clearly felt I no longer resist wind-cold as I used to. Out for ten-plus minutes and my hands were ice-cold, and my newly recovered throat felt off again. I hurried home, drank two cups of boiled water, and blew the hairdryer for a good while before I recovered. It seems COVID creates a large population of yang-deficient patients; the future medical burden may not be light.On Monday, the teacher in my son's class asked a classmate why he'd missed the online exam; the parent answered that the boy's grandfather had just died and the whole family was queuing for cremation. The child would return to class after the funeral. The news weighed on the heart; apart from saying "our condolences" to the parent, I didn't know what else to say. Whichever anti-epidemic plan you choose, there will always be some sacrifice.Beijing will enter the epidemic plateau within a week or two, and the daily death toll may be similar to Taiwan's this summer. At Taiwan's peak this summer, about 150–200 people died of COVID each day, and Beijing's total population (including permanent and floating residents) is seven million more than Taiwan's.Friends and relatives at home—whether in the south, the north, or left in our hometown—have basically all fallen ill these days; luckily, everyone has gradually pulled through, and coughing fills the family WeChat group when we chat. Doctors' weapon is medicine; in this age of dire drug shortage, we can only watch our loved ones suffer a little.After all, compared with patients lying in intensive care, those of us no longer in mortal danger are already lucky, and cannot expect that every little discomfort will be solved by doctors as in normal times. Limited medicine should go to those who need it to save their lives; anyone at a moment like this who only thinks of their own comfort and ignores others' lives is selfish and cold.Every one of us should contribute to lowering the case-fatality rate at this time. Those who hoard medicine should share it with those in need; mild cases like cough and sore throat should no longer take up doctors' time or precious life-saving medicine. However large the standing drug stock, it is not enough for 1.4 billion people. So these days I don't respond to patients in no mortal danger; once your fever breaks, endure it and you'll improve before long. Some people truly cannot endure—behind them are families who care.Those who die of COVID include not only the elderly but also overworked young people, fragile pregnant women, and small children; grabbing their life-saving resources is deeply unethical, and we should feel ashamed of such behavior. The moment that truly needs everyone to pull together has come; we cannot just talk. In this age, enduring moderate suffering to save others' lives is a noble act worth promoting.Now it seems Omicron is not as mild as some earlier experts claimed; at least most patients in Beijing and my native Hubei have quite severe symptoms, far from a little cold. And the proportion of asymptomatic and mild cases among our patients is very low, making the earlier provincial figures rather ironic. Though I understand those figures were meant to keep people from panicking, I still feel that being factual helps people more.From my own experience, falling ill with Omicron is truly miserable; I never want to suffer it again in my life. Even with my knowledge to shorten the course, I still felt wretched; patients who can't shorten it must suffer even more.But now it seems hard not to get it; everyone I know in Beijing and my native Hubei has caught it. Now we can only try our best to ease patients' suffering and lower the fatality rate. As my father put it, this is a tribulation that all living beings must endure; each person must face it bravely, hard out when hard is called for, and learn to accept the unlucky outcomes.I will continue to rest for a few more days; apart from patients whose condition can't wait, I'll set other consultations aside. Compared with life, nothing else matters; I hope everyone understands.