Hello, I blog!
I share all my sporadic and toilet thoughts in here, because I am random like that.
2020 Epilogue
“This is your year!” My physiotherapist told me repeatedly, in the middle of this year. And this kept ringing in my head especially as we approach the end of 2020.
If 2019 was destroyed for me due to prolonged voice loss, and subsequently by a knee injury that left me in crutches and a wheelchair after I tried to find solace from my lack of voice in KPOP dance. 2020 was the year I bounced back from it all.
But how is that fair, when the Covid-19 hit and the world was suffering as a whole in 2020? How can it possibly be my year when everyone else is miserable?
Just imagine – exactly this time last year, I was still high from chasing an annular solar eclipse that graced our shores in Boxing Day 2019. (Yes, with my crutches and all.) Telescopes were set up en masse on the roof of Marina Barrage, with a crowd of possibly a thousand or more people (something totally unthinkable today) ooh-ing and ahh-ing as the moon passed in front of the sun.
Fast forward a year later, any group of more than 5 people is considered illegal.
Last November, as the boy and I were at 35,000 feet somewhere over the South China Sea on board an ANA flight back home from Tokyo, I spoke about how I’m looking forward to a trip next year without my wheelchair or crutches. That trip hasn’t happened.
3 months later, Wuhan went on lockdown and I remember screeching at my dad incredulously “OH MY GOD, did they just lock down an entire city?! Holy shit.”
The alert level went up in Singapore around the same time and suddenly, supermarkets were wiped clean. This apocalyptic scene was totally unprecendented and struck me as odd – because surely, weren’t we a first world nation? But then I realized, first world nation or not, once our basic sense of security is disrupted, our suvival instincts are activated. We’re all human beings after all.
Then Europe went on lockdown. Then Malaysia. It just kept inching closer.
And came early April, Singapore also went on partial lockdown.
Everything just grounded to a halt. Roads were empty. Our skies were empty. My room faced the South and I was so used to seeing planes in holding formation and approaching our airport from my window. I barely saw anything. Very rarely now, I would spot a dreamliner and shriek. And my parents will look at me as if I’ve gone mad.
The pandemic has ravaged humankind, our economies, our daily lives. People are dropping like flies from this plague across the globe. A close friend of mine lost a parent to Covid-19 and I remember feeling so indignant about how people are losing their lives yet there are still people out there gallivanting around and being so flippant about it, even dismissing it as a hoax. If 2020 isn’t horrific enough because of the virus, it’s made even worse because it’s exposed the cracks of stupidity in people.
“Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups” – one of my fridge magnet reads. No shit.
It really feels like a twin pandemic.
But still, I can’t help but also feel that there’s some truth in “2020 is your year”.
I spent plenty of time at home working on strengthening my legs so I could walk again. I downgraded to a single crutch, then realized I could once again take on 10K steps without any walking aids in March. I resumed dancing at the end of March. Then, the “Circuit Breaker” lockdown happened in April and all my physiotherapy sessions had to grind to a halt. But still, I worked hard at home and regained my mobility.
2020 was also the year the world slowed down with me. I’m used to being home since I needed plenty of rest for my conditions and with everyone else at home, there was little to FOMO about.
2020 was the year where masks became commonplace. I no longer feel out of place when I head outside with my mask, since everyone else is wearing them too. I can only hope that this mask wearing culture continues beyond this pandemic so I will no longer have to contend with people sneezing/coughing on public transport and spreading their germs everywhere.
And speaking of masks, whoa – the variety of masks available totally exploded. Prior to this pandemic, I had to source my reusable cloth masks from an overseas seller on Etsy. Or I had to contend with the locally-available disposable masks in typical colours like blue and white.
I went on a mask buying spree, much to the amusement of everybody. For I feared that once this pandemic is over, nobody will be making masks anymore.
And anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. To summarize, 2020 just felt like a typical year for me even though it was vastly different for everyone else.
Here’s to 2021.
In 2021, let this world heal. Not just from the pandemic, but for people to realize how their daily (irresponsible) decisions and actions can affect others. This is also assuming that people are intelligent enough to begin with to realize their own folly. After all, stupid people don’t know they are stupid. But if you can’t be less stupid, at least learn to be less selfish. Because the world doesn’t revolve around you.
Also, Joe Biden will become the President of the United States from January which is honestly, the biggest freakin’ gift from 2020 to the world.
Living through a Pandemic with Chronic Fever
I always wondered about other patients with chronic fever and how they cope with pandemic-related restrictions. But surprisingly, there were hardly any results on Google. It made me realize that patients with chronic fever are few and far between, so I decided to write this to share my own experience as a patient with chronic autoimmune fever.
Warning: Long, long post ahead.
When the pandemic was looming on the horizon early this year, I was already anticipating the potential challenges I will face. When SARS hit our shores in 2003, temperature screening became commonplace. I thought it was something that will happen again and was already thinking to myself – “jialat, I will be denied access everywhere at this rate.”
I had an existing letter from my rheumatologist certifying that I have a chronic fever of a non-infectious nature. And it saved my ass a couple of times when my fever got detected at airports overseas (I’ve noted that Hong Kong airport’s thermal scanners are particularly aggressive).
So I guessed the letter would be enough when Covid-19 eventually hit our shores and temperature screening became ubiquitous.
I digress – but I do feel a bit bitter when I see signs everywhere stating that “anyone with a temperature of 37.5 and above will be declined access”. Maybe I take it a bit personally because my temperature is almost always between 37.5 and 38.3 degrees and it feels as if the sign is speaking to me.
Singapore went through a “lockdown” period (“Circuit Breaker”, they called it) from April to June. Subsequently, the country started opening up in phases. When it did, temperature screening became mandatory (when it was only sporadic prior to the lockdown). My first inkling of things to come was when I was declined access to a supermarket when I wanted to get a drink en route home after a short trip to the postbox. Unfortunately, I left my doctor’s letter at home. No biggie though – home was just 3 streets away, so I could simply walk back to hydrate.
The bigger problem started when I resumed my regular physiotherapy and medical appointments after the lockdown (such medical services were deemed “non-essential” and were suspended during the lockdown except for emergencies).
I was detained at my regular hospital despite holding a doctor’s letter from a doctor based in that hospital. I had a temperature of 37.8 so the screener was adamant about not allowing me entry despite me explaining I had a medical condition that caused chronic fever. Multiple phone calls later (including one to my rheumatologist), I was finally allowed in. I was already late for my appointment, and very very frustrated.
I subsequently shared about that experience online in a desperate bid to spread awareness.
There are people who live with a fever everyday. Not all fever = Covid-19 infection.
Yes, we are rare. But we exist.
The Write Stuff
Sometimes I feel like ever since I started using Instagram more heavily, my entire online presence has been “dummified”.
Everything has become visual. I now edit a photo and post it online, and spend significantly less time writing introspective blog posts.
And the less you write, whatever linguistic skill you possess also dies a slow death. I find myself using significantly less vocabulary these days, and I’m no longer able to articulate my thoughts as well as I used to. I really need to make it a point to write more.
Now that I can finally access WordPress on my phone again (previously I couldn’t because my WordPress was hopelessly outdated – my bad), perhaps the motivation to write again will come back.
Oh, did I just mention my phone?
Overdependence on our phones is another topic I mull over all the time. Another topic for another day, I suppose.
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