When my mom asked me to come to take care of her, I was terrified. I was about to live in the same house with three positive COVID-19 victims. The chance of me getting infected was high. When I tried to help my mom getting up out of her bed, she coughed on me and she couldn’t even put her mask on. I spent half an hour to an hour in her room each time to help her moved around.
Thanks to the masks, the face shields, the gloves, and the trash bags, I tested negative of COVID-19 over a week ago. As long as I take all the precautions, I shouldn’t have to be afraid of COVID. I didn’t know it until I lived through it. In retrospect, I could have intervene earlier. I could have done something for her. By the time I learned about my sister’s condition, it was already too late. I knew my mom already caught it and I hesitated to come until she told me to.
Although I have dodged the bullet, I wish I could be infected instead of her. If we could trade places right now, I would do it in a heartbeat. Watching her suffer is much more painful than suffering myself. Am I doing the right thing? Why don’t I pull the plug? What the fuck am I waiting for? A fucking miracle? Yes, a fucking miracle, indeed!