A Personal Pandemic

I figured now is a good time to start this newsletter. I had the idea for more than a year now, but only now it feels…right. So here goes.

I often wonder about the cost of the pandemic. Not (always) at a global scale, which there are plenty, but how it affected me and my family in the smallest, most personal ways.

Last week, here in a rather wet Singapore, the last vestiges of Covid-19 restrictions were lifted. There will be no need to wear face masks anymore in public transport and the once ubiquitous digital contact tracing app will delete its data, signifying its retirement from the frontlines for now. Singapore has been ‘living with the virus’ for some time now but the announcement still felt like a watershed moment.

But looking back, the pandemic has changed all of us. Events over the past 3 years often play back in my mind, like an old silent black and white film. I vividly remember the lockdown, or cleverly called circuit breaker here. I did not have the luxury of working from home back then, so it was unnerving to see the once busy island state completely devoid of its usual lively buzz. I particularly remember the PA system in train stations announcing to refrain from talking to reduce aerosol generation. I chuckled at first, but after the tenth time hearing it, it was no longer amusing but dystopian.

Lockdowns also meant no school, or childcare, in my daughter’s case. But she seems to take the whole pandemic thing in her stride. Kids are resilient little beings, I can tell you that. She adjusted remarkably quickly to the lack of playtime with her other classmates and by the end of the first month of pandemic restrictions, she was often our (very loud) reminder to bring along our masks and sanitisers. We hardly went out to enclosed spaces so our little family enjoyed quiet walks around the neighbourhood. We grew closer as a family, but I wonder how many of her childhood moments did she miss.

Singapore was relatively shielded from the terrible effects of the pandemic. But across the straits, my home country was a different story. Having been in touch with ex-colleagues and friends, the situation at hospitals was dire. It was all hands on deck and the stories I heard were heartbreaking.

I am unsure why but I felt a wave of anger, then helplessness, and lastly profound guilt. I flirted with the idea of taking a sabbatical from work to help back home. What good am I, a doctor, if not doctoring? But with borders firmly shut and my family to consider, that romance never materialised. Still, it was always at the back of my mind, like an itch I can’t scratch. Later I would realise that itch is my yearning for clinical medicine, and I will probably never scratch it again.

I then found myself talking a lot about the pandemic. Like a lot. I talked about the science, the misconception and the misinformation. Social media was my attempt of scratching that itch. When the vaccines came, I talked about it even more. I had this sense of responsibility to inform and educate. There was a point when my Twitter inbox was filled with messages. Most of them were genuine people seeking reliable information or assurance on their decision to take the vaccine. Some were harassment and accusations, especially accusations of being in cahoots with big pharma. How I wish. I would have been writing this in a penthouse rather than in this dingy room.

But soon I learned the battle against vaccine misinformation was visceral rather than intellectual. I continued to educate and provide support to those who were genuine but gave up on changing the minds of those who were stubbornly against the science.

Making noise on social media seemed to have attracted the media. So there was I, not an infectious disease expert, not a public health expert but appearing on news portals, radio and TV programmes. But I liked answering questions and so did my best to try to send the correct messages in the correct language. I often joke about this, but social media did somehow land me my current job. A story for another day, that.

When travel opened up late in 2021, there was a scramble for everyone to travel again. Family and friends reuniting again after 2 long years. I didn’t feel the need to head home initially but when I did, I was glad. I tell myself I am perfectly fine being alone, doing things alone without a social network but when I reconnected with family and friends, it felt like a storm had cleared and my heart was full again.

I am not entirely sure if I won’t wear a mask on public transport now. Removing it on a bus full of people will take some getting used to. But undeniably the pandemic has changed the way we live, learn and grow. And it is still changing us, in ways we may yet realise.

It might be in a small or big way, but it will be in the most personal way, that I am sure of.

It’s late Sunday night for this first post. I’ve not figured out when or how often I should publish, but it will likely be a weekday (Monday?) morning and perhaps twice a month. Right, see you in two weeks then.