Not Used to Being Read

 Today, as I opened my blog editor, I noticed that my past few posts had two views. Since I don't remember going back to them, it can only mean that someone else has read my blog. I haven't publicized my blog, and its been years since I gave anyone the link to it. But, seeing that someone else had read my blog feels oddly discomfiting. I feel like my posts have become more personal over the years. In the early years, I was eager to impart my newfound wisdom to the blogosphere. While the events in my life certainly had a bearing on my thinking, I would refer to them in a roundabout manner to make it difficult for someone with a curious bent of mine (like me) to glean what was happening in my life. Over the years, I feel like I have thrown that initial caution to the winds, writing with the implicit assumption that no one else would read my words. But, it was still important to write those words in a blog that could technically be accessed by anyone. Blogging is therapeutic but its not therapeutic writing. Its a tool of self-expression, of making sense of some of the things in my life and universe, as well as making peace with some of the more unsavoury aspects of life. However, in hindsight, it does fell like my blog has become more diarish. Now, that I know someone else may be reading my blog, maybe that awareness will swing the pendulum in the other direction. Make my blog more muse-y and less diarish. 

Home At Last

I have finally made it home. Actually, I got home last morning, but was too wiped out to write about it yesterday. As soon as I left the airport building, I felt s vast tiredness engulf me. As I walked to the taxi stand, I could feel my head spin like it hadn't in years. If I didn't know this sensation to be a symptom of anxiety I would have been positively alarmed. But, I do know, so I shrugged it off. The cab ride home in a rickketty taxi that managed to hit every pothole. and through a smog was an assault on each of my senses. I could barely sit straight on the sofa when I made it home. There were no tears when I saw my parents lat morning or my sister last evening. I was too tired for that. If I had hoped that on my seeing my family I would burst into tears that would wash away the trauma of the past few years, I was wrong. Life, and trauma , are more complicated than that. I managed to get a few hours of sleep in the morning, but continued to feel groggy through the day. I knew I was tired an I knew I the lightheadedness once |I had rested a bit. What will happen about my PTSD, I don't know. Today, I struggled to find books or movies that I enjoyed. I was also assailed by guilt about not working on my PhD. However, later in the day, when I came across the collection that had ignited my love affair with short stories. It had been gifted to me by my parents 18 years ago. I read the short story that had moved me that most at the time, and I was moved by it once again. I also found a few other books that look interesting, so I should be fine for a few days at least. I will need to make up my mind about whether I should try working on my PhD during my time in India. I am fairly certain that I will decide not to, but I am not at that place yet. Maybe I should write to my supervisor and see what she says? But, the important thing is to stick to my decision once I have made up my mind. 

Last Night in Bristol

 I have so much to say, that I am afraid I will end up saying very little. I don't know where to start. When I returned from India in Oct. 2019, I remember vowing that on my next trip to India, I wouldn't have the cloud of the PhD hanging over me. It would be purely a leisure trip. Well, the best laid plans of mice and men. I am not going to summarize the last two years in a nutshell, but I am not done with my PhD and have no plans to work on my PhD during this holiday. Even so, it won't be purely a leisure trip. I will have grading and teaching prep to do. I am trying to tell myself to let the universe unfold as it should. The recent past has been brutal and the future is uncertain. I don't know what else to say. I have spent the past three weeks petrified that I won't make it to India this winter, and how I would cope if I didn't. But, all my bags are packed and I am ready to go. 

Crunch Night

 I am proud that I didn't lay in bed consumed with anxiety today. I am consumed with anxiety, but I managed to do everything that I had planned--go for my fit-to-fly test, drop in at uni to pick up FFP2 masks, do my laundry, cook lunch, do GMB and yoga and write this blog. I even toyed with the idea of starting grading the op-eds, but abandoned it soon enough. The Covid news is getting grimmer by the day, and I have spent the past few days oscillating between fretting about testing positive for Covid and the possibility that India will impose hotel quarantine or close the borders. Well, tonight is the night. By tomorrow morning, I will know whether I am fit to fly. By tomorrow lunch time, I will know whether I will have to quarantine in a hotel (provided I test negative, of course). Rule changes usually come with a few day's notice, and any changes after tomorrow likely won't apply to me.  

100 Quid Spaffed Up The Wall

This morning, I woke up at 3am panicking that my PCR test would not be delivered today. I managed to go back to a fitful sleep but most of  my day was spent waiting for the test, including two hours on hold with the test provider's call centre. I had a feeling it wouldn't arrive on time and it didn't. The call centre people told me that it would likely arrive tomorrow, in which case I could still expect to have the result before I fly. I decided that was cutting it too fine for me. My nerves are frazzled as it is, and I could do without more last-minute stress. So, I decided to ditch this test and cough up 100 quid for a 24-hour guaranteed result test. It is a lot of money, but there are few better uses of money than to buy peace of mind. Yes, 100 pounds is not much less than what I spend on groceries in a month. But, these are extraordinary times, which call for extraordinary measures. What if after all this, I test positive or if my flight is cancelled? I won't be crying over the 100 quid, in that case. I would havve plenty of other stuff to cry about. 

Waiting For Another Covid Test

No sooner does one stressor disappear than another one materializes. I ordered a home PCR test as soon as I got the result from the NHS PCR test, but there is no sign that it has been dispatched so far. I know that parcels move between depots in the night so that can be delivered to customers during the day, and I hope that I will wake up to word that the test is on its way. If not, I will have to chase it tomorrow, which I am really not looking forward. If there is till no sign of it tomorrow I will have to book a rapid PCR test that will cost a sixth of my return ticket to India. I realise that even if it arrives tomorrow, I will not be completely at ease as I will be nervous about the result. And, when I get a negative result, I will be nervous about last-minute rules changes of flight cancellations. 

Covid Test Negative!

 I wasn't expecting my Covid test today. Based on my experience with PCR testing last year, I wouldn't have been surprised if I didn't get the result at all. But, I tracked the test on Royal Mail this morning, and learnt that it had been delivered, which raised my hopes that I would at least get a result, and not be left to wilt with uncertainty. I had decided that if the test came back positive I would wait till as late as possible to take the fit-to-fly test to give the virus more time to leave my body. I had abandoned my plan to get someone else to take the PCT test, after my sis pointed out that if I did that and tested positive at Mumbai airport, I would b whisked away to quarantine. But, I knew a positive would be a huge blow to me. It would delay my tri and every day of delay would increase the chances of tighter quarantine rules in India or flight cancellations. So, imagine my surprise when I got a mail a few minutes after 5pm today saying I had tested negative? There is still plenty that could go wrong between now and Saturday and beyond. But, one step at a time. 

Everything Going Pear-Shaped

 So, this morning, just as I was about to get ready to go for my PCR test, I got a text saying my test had been cancelled as that centre would be closed today. Just when I thought my luck couldn't get worse--not so much as a cold in more than two years, and falling sick the week before I am due to fly home. I quickly booked a home PCR test, but it didn't arrive today. Hopefully, it will arrive tomorrow, and God knows when the results will reach me. I am under no illusions that the next six days are going to be agonizing. The only question is how bad. Then, as I was finishing my yoga, the only time of the day I feel sane, it struck me that I could order a home fit-to-fly test and have someone else take the swab for me. Immediately, my mind leapt into overdrive. Whom can I ask? What if they are asymptomatic but positive? Should I ask someone who has recently had Covid? What if they turn out to be positive because of residual antigens? What if I manage to fly but test positive at Mumbai airport? And, the panic over Omicron seems to be getting worse by the day. I really don't know what to do. I guess I will just sleep over it and see how I feel tomorrow.

The Main Thing To Do Is Not Panic

 I started an email to a student with these words. He had written to me saying he is not able to write anything for his assignment and wrote to me asking for advice. I am going through my shit of my own and would do well to heed my own advice. Yesterday, I thought I was getting better, but it turns out that is not the case. Today, my fever crept back again and my nose is still running like a tap. I have registered for a PCR test tomorrow morning. If it turns out positive, the next few weeks will be filled with anxiety and/or ill health. If it turns out negative, the next seven days will be filled with anxiety and/or ill health. Even if its negative, I will not rest easy until my fit-to-fly test comes back negative. When you can't hang your hopes on a single moment in time or a single outcome the main thing to do is not to panic. Bad outcomes will feel like the end of the world, but will not be the end of the world. 

Sore Throat Turns To Cold

 Falling asleep last night was not easy. I was running a slight fever, but not sick enough to not be anxious about the possibility of having Covid. As I have realised, anxiety takes up energy, so if you are sick enough, you cannot be anxious at the same time. Of course, I could be horribly wrong about this. But, I fell asleep at some point last night, and woke up feeling much better. The soreness in my throat had reduced and my fever had gone away too. I had a good start to the day--yoga, a hot shower, breakfast on time, and a stab at doing some work. It felt like a tap had turned on in my nose, and there was a steady drip through the day. All in all, felt better today, and also anxiety levels were lower. 

Covid Scare

 Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I am in the middle of a Covid scare. I have had a scratch throat since yesterday morning and I have also been feeling slightly feverish. I have had Covid scares before, but the symptoms usually disappeared overnight. I am aware that this time if I have Covid I might not be able to travel to India as scheduled. But, that does not mean I won't be able to travel to India at all. The start of the next semester is eight weeks away. That is a hell of a lot of time to make a reasonably long trip to India. Maybe not 4 weeks but at least three weeks. This evening, while sitting on the loo, I decided that cost is not a constraint. At worst, I will have to buy a new return ticket to India. So be it, I can afford it. Even if I have to push my trip back by a few weeks, it is not the end of the world. Where there is a will, there is a way. There are a lot of things that are beyond my control. But, if I don't make it to India this winter, it won't be due to lack of trying.  And, if I do get Covid, at least I can be sure that I won't infect my family when I see them. And, another advantage of this Covid scare is that I am not going to stress about finishing my PhD by January-end. It has become crystal clear to me that its not a big deal if I don't finish my PhD by January-end. I am not going to stress about it. 

White Christmas

 This is the longest I have been away from my blog since T's passing more than three years ago. My last post was about the double blow of not finishing my PhD and not being able to visit home this December. The following day, we learnt that Maharashtra was bringing in a mandatory 7-day hotel quarantine followed by a 7-day home quarantine. That news knocked the stuffing out of me. I couldn't muster any motivation to work on my PhD. Neither could I bring myself to do yoga or blog. I found myself in a funk like none I have encountered before. But, apart from some exercise, all I have done over the past five days is binge watch Line of Duty. My flight is still 10 days away and the news on the Covid variant front just keeps getting worse. I have no idea if I will make it to India, and I won't know until my plane takes off. I don't think I am going to be very productive over the next 10 days or so, although this is supposed to be precious time that should be devoted to my PhD. If I don't manage to finish my PhD over the next two months, I wont' be able to get back to it till May or June. 

So, when I hear White Christmas play on the radio this morning, it lifted my spirits. There may be a pandemic on, but the world is still turning, the seasons are still changing. And, that's a lesson to keep in mind if I am not able to visit India this winter. I will be gutted, I might not get out of bed for a few days. But the world will keep on turning, time will keep on healing, and I will move past that setback. 

The song brought back memories of many a pleasant Christmas I have spent since moving out of India in 2014. I have spent five of the past seven Christmases in Europe.