Virus

I’ve bumped into a virus again. The last time this happened, I could blame myself. I had been careless, ignored my own rules, and ventured unprotected into danger zones.

This time, it came out of thin air. Literally. It’s always difficult to pinpoint exactly where it happens, as the incubation period is usually about four days. So, I have to look back in my calendar to find that one dangerous moment. This time, I was just in Cape Town, and the weather was beautiful, warm, and sunny—conditions under which viruses usually lie low.

But this time, too, the virus came knocking after a few days of incubation. First, some shivering and sneezing. That doesn’t say much; it could be anything. But when I suddenly wake up in the middle of the night with a sore throat, I know something is wrong. From that moment on, there’s usually no stopping it for me. Because the moment a virus weakens my body, hordes of bacteria seize their chance. "The immune system is distracted—now’s our chance!" When the cat’s away, the mice will play. Or, in this case: in my airways. And that wild bacterial carnival is also a massive multiplication party. The dancing masses explode out of control, green mucus flies everywhere, and the fever sets in!

A day later, my flight from Cape Town to Amsterdam was scheduled. Arriving there, I landed right in the middle of the Easter weekend, so I thought I could wait until after Easter. It’s always a hassle during holidays, with overburdened out-of-hours clinics. Unfortunately, there is no South African Mediclinic here in Amsterdam where you can show up at any hour of the day or night.

But the Easter days proved to be too long. Steam was coming out of my ears, and I could only breathe with great difficulty. After a night of wheezing and rattling, I was completely exhausted. Over forty degrees of fever surged through my body. Every breath was an effort. It felt as if I couldn't hold on for one day longer.

Fortunately, after waiting on the line for forty-five minutes, the out-of-hours clinic agreed to treat me as an emergency case on Easter Monday, and I was able to take an Uber to the OLVG Oost hospital. There, I received the drugs I knew I needed: antibiotics.

And as always—it remains a miracle—the tightness in my chest eased from the very first pill, and the fever vanished within 48 hours.

I have experienced this cycle many times now. Sometimes the progression is less aggressive, sometimes there is no fever and just a lot of green mucus, but it never goes away without help from the outside.

And I keep thinking: what if one day it no longer works? If the bacteria become resistant? Or if there is no medical help nearby?

When I was lying there last Monday, barely hanging on, I could easily imagine this being the beginning of the end. Not a pleasant end. Too sick, too short of breath, and too delirious from the fever to have a pleasant goodbye with my loved ones. A suffocating nightmare, far from the warm farewell I have in mind. Pneumonia is the number one cause of death for stem cell transplant recipients.

Yet, the end will come someday. I would prefer to have it in my own hands.