How Quarantine Made Me Appreciate My Family Even More
It was about 2 months ago when I received a notification from my school that I had to evacuate and return home. The notification came out of the blue and I was shocked. As I started packing my bags, I thought about how this might be the last time I see many of my friends here because I was supposed to graduate this semester.
The thought was extremely saddening but I knew that safety had to come first before anything, so I accepted the reality and boarded my flight from London back to Hong Kong. Little did I know, that would be the least of my worries in just a matter of days.
When I arrived in Hong Kong, I did not go home because I was afraid that had I contracted the coronavirus, I would’ve possibly infected my parents. Instead, I decided to self-quarantine in a hotel.
For the first three days, I felt completely fine and that was expected due to the extreme measures I had taken on my flight to ensure my safety. I had put on a couple of masks as well as a scarf and not once during the 12-hour flight did I take my mask off or go to the bathroom. Therefore, I was extremely surprised when I experienced headaches as well as a minor cough on the fourth day of my quarantine.
My thoughts immediately went to the coronavirus and I was terrified. Not for myself, but for my parents who had visited me at my hotel room. I knew that even if I contracted it, I would most likely survive. However, I was less sure about my parents because we had learned that it is a lot more fatal towards older people.
The next few hours were a blur. I was transferred to a hospital before being assigned to an isolation ward. Before long, it was my turn to be tested. First, I had an X-Ray and then they swabbed my saliva. However, the worst part came next.
Basically, I had a tube shoved up my nose and I ended up feeling it in the back of my throat. My eyes started watering and it was the most uncomfortable feeling I had ever experienced.
The test came back negative for coronavirus but positive for pneumonia. I couldn’t help but feel relieved even though I realized I had pneumonia. My parents were safe and that was all that mattered to me. I still had to stay in the isolation ward which was extremely boring but I was just grateful that I had not contracted the coronavirus.
Looking back, this ordeal was one of the most stressful situations I’ve had to go through in my life. However, it taught me one thing. To appreciate my family more. Just the thought that I could’ve lost them had me going crazy for hours before the diagnosis came through.
They are the most important people in my life and this ordeal has at least helped me reinforce that concept. So, in a way, I’m almost grateful it happened.
How Quarantine Transformed My Hometown Farmers Market
Going to my hometown farmer’s market every Saturday used to be one of the highlights of my week. My Dad, younger brother, and I would go together at around 10 am and beeline to our favorite cheese man for a pound of ‘rustic Drumm cheese’ and apple biscuits.
It’s hard to describe, but the energy at this market mixed with the smell of homemade waffles and pesto always felt like the ultimate wave of serotonin and bliss. Everything was simple at the Saturday morning farmer’s market.
When the quarantine in New York went into effect, I watched as everything I had ever known closed. My parents and stepparents traded in their suits and dress pants for pajamas, and my brother and collective five step-siblings and I contemplated upwards of 2-3 months stranded in the house together.
Two weeks later in April, the farmer’s market remarkably reopened for business. I was overjoyed and ready for some fresh air, and my brother and I eagerly set out at 10 am to get in the cheese line. When we got there, we saw that things were drastically different.
Everyone had to wear a mask, only three people could be in line at any given booth, hand washing stations had been scattered across the parking lot, families could not go into the market together and had to send in one person to shop, and the line to enter was about an hour long.
My brother went to wait in the car and I stood in line, mask and all, nervously watching the people around me. In front of me was a small, frail, older woman who seemed to be shaking nervously herself. She clutched her reusable shopping bag with urgency.
She turned to meet my gaze, and her eyes crinkled upwards above the edge of her mask, hiding her smiling mouth. I smiled back, hoping she would see the warmth through my eyes too.
‘This is pretty crazy, huh?’ She said, shaking her head and looking down at the floor. I nodded and asked her what market treasure she was waiting in this long line for. ‘Just soup and bread,’ she answered. ‘I’m worried that my favorite vendor won’t make it in this economy. She’s a single mom with four kids, and I want to buy as much from her as I can.’
My gaze softened as I watched this woman’s frail, age-speckled hands nervously clutching her bag. She could certainly be considered high-risk and probably should stay home, but had risked her health to support someone struggling.
‘If you want, I can go in and buy soup and bread from her for both of us?’ I exclaimed, gesturing to the un-moving line. ‘No use for both of us to have to wait in line, and I’d really like to help out your friend too!’ The woman pondered this, sizing me up and straining to see the tent of her favorite vendor ahead. She finally nodded and smiled, gesturing to her car that was parked just a few feet away.
After another 30 minutes, I made it into the market and went straight to the vendor the woman told me about. She, too, had kind eyes, and she thanked me with them as I bought four quarts of soup and two loaves of bread. After delivering the goodies to my friend from line, I rushed home to eat. It was arguably the best soup and bread I’ve ever had
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