Testing Positive For Covid-19 With Health Anxiety

It’s been nearly three weeks now since I tested positive for Covid-19. Throughout the first lockdown I was living with my parents who are classed as vulnerable. For three months I followed the rules, and then some, to protect my parents. I didn’t see friends or my partner, I didn’t go to the supermarket, and for a while we didn’t even go for walks – which wasn’t very good for our mental health, but for a family that constantly go to the doctor for health screenings and lump checks, having the news blast in our faces daily that thousands of people are dying daily from the pandemic had our anxiety out of control. ‘What’s a few months in the long run really?’, my mum continuously exclaimed. What didn’t help once more was that a close family friend was fighting for his life in the ICU who had no underlying health issues and was younger than my parents. A cloud was over the house daily as they contacted the hospital for updates and only increased our anxiety. For these reasons and more, the pandemic has been one anxiety bomb after another for suffers of anxiety.

I didn’t think I was scared for myself; I was rationale that only older people with underlying health issues are getting complications, it was to protect my parents and nothing more I kept telling myself. But despite all logical statistics, I was still panicked when I read about the anomalies of the virus plastered across social media, the ’19-year-old with no underlying health issues’ who died from the virus, or the ‘fit and healthy gym instructor fighting for his life after contracting coronavirus’. It didn’t help that my parents constantly drilled into me that I would get it bad because I had asthma as kid, even though again my rational mind was telling me I hadn’t used my inhaler since I was a child. I understand that my health anxiety is never logical, if there’s a 98% survival rate for a cancer or disease, that means there’s a 2% risk of death, and when I am going through a phase of health anxiety it’s hard to focus on anything else but that 2%.

In July I had to go back to drama-school for a month, the numbers were dropping but we decided it’s best all round for me to stay away from home to be safe, and it was the perfect chance to spend some quality time with my partner who I’d been away from for the duration of the pandemic. The first few weeks were like a dream, I was allowed back out into the world again (masked up of course), I went to supermarkets, even took a venture to the cinema on one occasion. On the third weekend my partners flatmate’s partner had developed coronavirus symptoms. The shock hit me like a wave. After a month feeling like the pandemic wasn’t as scary as I previously believed, suddenly here I am, possible at risk of contracting a virus I’d been trying so hard to avoid for so long. I tried to pretend that everything was normal but all I could imagine mainly was the fear of my parents, the fear that I’d spread the virus at drama school, fear that I’ve spread it to my partner, but also fear that I was going to get very sick. I pictured the headlines, ’25-year-old in ICU due to Covid-19’. This is completely illogical, against all odds for a fit and health 25-year-old with no underlying health issues. Luckily the test came back negative from the roommates partner and after a panic attack where my partner saw first-hand the effect that health anxiety has. He was incredibly supportive, put on The Simpsons Movie and brought me some chocolate. Luckily all was well, the roommate’s boyfriend turned out to get negative and my fears evaporated with the negative test result.

Cut to December. I’ve been in rehearsals for two weeks in a room with eighteen people, I’m staying with my partner again to protect my parents which I have been for the last month. I’m going home for Christmas so I’m planning on doing a couple of tests just to be sure before I see them. On the last day of rehearsals, I stick the swab up my nose and into my tonsils and chuck the box into the letter box. Important to mention this is my fifteenth coronavirus test, at this point it’s just a regular weekly occurrence. The following day the text I’d been dreading for those fifteen previous times comes through and this time reads my result as positive. My brain cannot comprehend this. I’ve had no symptoms. I’ve not been ill in any way and in fact had more energy than usual the previous few days. I’m overwhelmed and panicked. More than anything because two days prior I went home to pick up some things. I wore a mask, and so did my parents, and we didn’t come in direct contact, but I’m terrified. I’m terrified that my parents are going to be infected by coronavirus and end up in hospital or worse, and I’ve inflicted this on them. I feel awful, awful for my partner who now has to isolate with me, my partners roommate who has to do the same, and the eighteen people who have the delay their trip home for Christmas with their families. The entire first reaction was this was my fault. ‘Sorry,’ I kept telling people. ‘I can’t imagine what would happen if I brought this upon my parents,’ as though I’ve somehow done something wrong for catching a famously each to contract disease during a pandemic.

The following day I snapped out of it. Despite being terrified for my parents I was able to take comfort that they had no symptoms, and after messaging pretty much everyone I know who’d had the virus, and some friends, there were plentiful of cases of people testing positive who even live with family who never end up contracting the disease. I guess it’s like anything and other factors like immune system must come into play. My partner was run down and lost his sense of smell for a few days, but somehow, miraculously, I was completely fine. After the initial anxiety sparked over my parents, and the constant reassurance I needed from the internet that I’m ok and they are going to be ok, I was able to settle that I was ok. All these months of anxiety, and worry, and this is it, it’s here, I have Covid-19 and I am asymptomatic.

There’s something almost surreal over how well I felt whilst I was self-isolating. I thought I’d at least have a cold if I didn’t have one of the major symptoms, maybe a wheezy cough. I usually get viruses and infections quite easy during the winter. But nothing. And any anxiety I was feeling was relieved that both my parents tested negative and never developed any symptoms and apart from my partner, neither did anyone else I know.

It was ok, I am ok.

I imagine the pandemic has sparked a new breed to health anxiety specific for Covid-19. Perhaps even for people who haven’t experienced anxiety regarding health before. It’s in our faces, on our social media, on the news, we cannot escape the fear right now, and that is bound to create anxiety, fear, and that is completely ok. It’s not ok to be gaslighting people because they are scared of contracting coronavirus, and I am in no way saying that anyone should not worry about contracting or spreading coronavirus. The current death rate in the UK is incredibly high, and people are dying from this awful disease this winter. I was a lucky one and nothing more than that, luck. I wanted to share my experiences that when the whole world feels like it’s crumbling down around you, the chances are, you are going to be ok, and more importantly, it’s not your fault.