When death comes knocking, the pandemic turns personal

There’s a life-and-death struggle happening right on my doorstep: Covid struck down one of the most vulnerable in my extended family…

He’s only three-and-a-bit months old but was born before his time and has battled with his lungs ever since. And this morning we heard he is in ICU “on pipes”. No, it’s not pneumonia as we all thought, it’s the dreaded virus.

In the blink of an eye, this brave little soldier became a number – number 38 of the 10 538 new cases Gauteng reported today – and suddenly this pandemic is very personal.

Yes, I lost two friends last week and clucked my tongue. But this one? He deserves to live. So much is waiting for him:
exploring colours, tastes, words – and when he’s learnt to run, that first paycheck; buying that ticket to see the big bad world out there; even girls. He can’t be denied this, surely?

I ask Dr Google if babies can survive. I should’ve known better. You know that sore throat you’ve had for a week? “Cancer,” Dr Google tells you. That bee sting that just won’t heal? “Fatal,” he says.

Dr Google puts little ones in the same category as oldies with Covid… and the prognosis is not good. But I do stumble upon a study of over 1 000 babies under a year who got it – and only five died.

It doesn’t tell me about compromised lungs, though, and I dare hope… It’s that hope I must cling to.

Much as I love words, it is too overwhelming. Reading about his symptoms makes his battle real in my mind’s eye. I can see his little chest heaving; hear his gasping; the drip stuck in his head because they just can’t find veins in his plump arms any more.

I hope – and can’t help myself wondering about the word. “Noun; a feeling of expectation and desire for a particular thing to happen,” the dictionary tells me.

Not my hope. Mine is soulful, a deep desire for betterment – a passion that smacks of desperation. And that hope is all I can offer his granny, who wanders inconsolably through my house the whole day. No platitudes.

No “he’ll be okay”. Only hope. Because hope springs eternal in the human breast…