Out of respect for the author’s privacy as a result of the stigma associated with COVID-19, the Charlatan permitted this letter to be published under the pseudonym Gregor Samsa.
I am a first-year Carleton student living on residence, and I have tested positive for COVID-19.
Based on the data available, the emergence of my symptoms indicates I had been infected as early as my third day in residence—a full week prior to being tested.
Though I was the first student to report my positive result to the university, I am by no stretch of the imagination the first to have been infected. I fear that this number may be far greater than we currently know.
I’m certain I came to campus healthy, and with only a small handful of other cases reported to date, I am led to believe that whoever gave the virus to me has not been tested yet, and in all likelihood, displays no symptoms.
It is for this reason I decided to write this letter.
On the first day I noticed my symptoms, I immediately purchased a thermometer at a drug store and found I had no fever. The next day, upon noting the persistence of these relatively minor symptoms, I isolated myself and made plans to get up bright and early the next day to get myself tested.
Leading up to the receipt of my results, which came just 24 hours after I was tested, I was filled with dread. I was completely occupied by my anxieties, none of which concerned my health.
I broke down in tears in front of my parents over a Zoom meeting. I feared so strongly that I would be forever outcast by my peers—most of whom I had just met—and vilified should the test return a positive result.
I felt sorry for myself, and truthfully wasn’t thinking about the health and safety of my peers or the potential harm that could have resulted from my spreading the virus to others prior to my isolation.
Indeed, these were dark times, and I am ashamed to admit the thought of simply forgetting about the whole thing and hiding my symptoms did not fail to cross my mind.
Despite my fears, I’ve had nothing but positive experiences with the other residents of my floor, and have been met with nothing but kindness from those of them I had the pleasure to meet more intimately before isolation. This remained constant, even following the announcement of my positive result.
Despite this kindness extended my way, one seemingly monotonous question I’ve been asked more than any other—even by those kindest to me—torments me without relent: “Do you know where you got it from?”
This question occupied my mind for weeks on end, and it is only in retrospect that I can grasp the fruitlessness of my personal inquiry as to the answer.
There is no reason for this to have happened to me or anyone. There is no “why” for me to spend two weeks philosophizing over. I had long ago developed good habits regarding the prevention of the spread of COVID-19, as my mother was left immunocompromised following a recent stem cell transplant. I had been more careful than most I know and done nothing carrying more risk than anything any other student had done.
It is with clarity that I can now say that in these times, we are all but victims of circumstance and prisoners of the moment. I do not say this with resignation or a grim outlook. It is precisely the embrace of this reality that delivered me from my woes.
It was an embrace of the present that delivered me from what would have been the pitfalls and resulting despair brought on by my isolation. I concerned myself with the development of a routine—as after all, I had only been moved in for a bit over a week.
I also concerned myself with my schoolwork, which has gotten me comfortably ahead in my classes for the time being. I played guitar quite regularly, especially because I no longer had a canmate to hear me. I took great interest in the food being delivered to my door and learned to identify the different university staff making the rounds by their distinct knocks. I even let my girlfriend trick me into exercising, though this did not last past the first couple of days. A fight against boredom is fought against oneself, and I intended to win.
These mundane affairs occupied me so effectively, and it was only in the final few days of my isolation that I even bothered to find out when I was being let out.
My time in isolation was wholly Kafkaesque, and the parallels to The Metamorphosis—the story of a man who awakes one morning to find himself transformed into a monstrous insect, and must adapt to the unseemliness of his condition—was immediately apparent to me. This was one of the few books I had available to me over the 14 days I spent alone.
Like Gregor Samsa, the novella’s title character, a mysterious physical affliction rendered me repulsive to those around me, and thrust me into isolation in a solitary room. Meals were delivered, and I would skitter out to grab them once I was sure I could not be seen. I would eavesdrop on tiny bits of conversations in the hall that were loud enough, and I expect others may have done the same to me.
For those two weeks, I truly was Samsa, though I believe my symptoms were a bit less severe. I was told I should expect to lose my sense of taste and/or smell, and while this may have proven advantageous given the quality of some of the meals I was delivered, most of the expected symptoms I was warned about never came.
Joking aside, this may be the scariest piece of information regarding COVID-19 that I can give you: how easily just two days of slight headaches and a ticklish throat can be pushed to the back of the mind, just long enough to let you dismiss the obvious symptoms as they gradually begin to subside, before deciding to get tested.
I truly wish I could leave you all with a grand gesture by relinquishing my anonymity to prove you have nothing to fear in coming forward and getting tested. But if this pandemic has taught me anything, it is that this world can be unforgiving.
I am certain that if one were so inclined, they could pick apart everything I’ve done over the last month, identify a mistake or two, and attempt to pin all subsequent positive cases on campus on me alone. I understand I may be opening myself up to this sort of criticism by writing this letter, which is something I would never submit myself to do so willingly under normal circumstances.
Of course, all those I came into contact with were notified immediately, and it is the ramifications of this that I believe may eventually lead to my identity being revealed, regardless of my wishes. I end this statement with a sincere thanks to all those that have continued to support me, including those who prepared and delivered my meals, my friends (old and new) and my surprisingly unperturbed parents.
I urge anyone reading to get tested should they suspect they are experiencing any symptoms of the virus. It is worth the trouble, and it has been a unique comfort to know that my swift action may have prevented countless other cases.
Additionally, I do make a plea to all of those reading this to do their best to keep themselves and others healthy. Despite what we all may think and feel, things will someday get better.
This is not the end of the world.
Featured image from file.
