I wanted to be a doctor since I was 3 years old. In fact one of my earliest memories of childhood is watching my parents (both doctors as well) in awe, as we stopped to help victims at an accident site. My friends tell me I’m very brave, working on the frontlines-in times of corona. Recently one of them stopped by and posted a sign outside our house  that read “healthcare heroes”.
But I don’t feel like a hero and I don’t feel brave. For the first time in life the hospital isn’t my happy place. I feel scared all the time- not scared for my own life, but scared that I’ll carry the virus home and infect my family. First few weeks I didn’t sleep at all. But I guess the fear, like the virus is here to stay. I have adapted to this sinking feeling, and have developed coping mechanisms for myself. I talk to my friends, watch a comedy series, listen to my favourite songs and do a lot of charity work. Being occupied and focused on altruistic activities has helped me I guess. 

When you have too much information about something the mind automatically assumes the worst. My thoughts always race to the most frightful of complications and the most abysmal of scenarios. I google “corona positive news” every now and then in a desperate attempt to gain some positivity. I read about the new treatments showing some progress in the trials. I read about the 90 year old man who recovered completely. I read about the famous people raising millions for covid relief. Maybe there is some light after all, at the end of this dark tunnel- but the tunnel itself is very damaging.