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COVID
Last month, I tested positive for COVID-19 and was isolated for 10-days in my name studio apartment. I was exposed on a Thursday and tested positive on a Monday. Fortunately, I knew that I was exposed before leaving my house the following day for work. And, since I work in a government research facility, I did not want to be THAT foreigner, and the first researcher, to bring COVID to my department. I did not need to add to the growing list of reasons to dislike foreign people in an already xenophobic country. I already added one bullet point for talking to friends in English on a bus.
The virus incubation period was hell. I shoved a nasal swab 1.5 cm up my nasal canal for three days. I knew I did it correctly once tears were reflexively running down my cheeks. Five tests later, I was still negative. Was I positive? How long does it take for the virus to incubate? What did that NPR article say? Is it allergies? Am I a hypochondriac?
I was finally positive by the sixth test, and the worry dissipated. Since I am goody-two-shoes and a team player, I hauled myself to the local government health center to get a PCR test.
Remember your first (minor) car accident? I do. In October 2020, I hit a deer that attempted to cross the highway at one o’clock in the afternoon. After I hit that deer, the panic attack set in. While hyperventilating, I was forced to assess the situation, talk to the police, call AAA, call my car insurance, and call my dad to help me figure it all out. It is mind-boggling that we are expected to organize all of these things following a traumatic experience. Getting COVID in South Korea ranks a close second minus the panic attack.
I arrived at the government health center at 9:10 am, ten minutes after opening. The line is about a quarter of a mile long. In South Korea, only people exposed to COVID, who tested positive on an at-home test, or over sixty can receive a PCR test. Here I am, in line with many sick people, maybe sick people and old people. And, people don't have a sense of personal space. Seems safe...
It took over three hours to get my PCR test. My friend arrived an hour later and had to wait over 4 hours because the health workers had taken a lunch break. As I neared the front line, healthcare workers walked up and down, making announcements. I stare blankly at them. I think they said something about a lunch break or some online application. One worker sees my blank expression, grabs my phone, and fills out the PCR test application. They ask me why I am here, and I show my positive at-home test to them shyly, like I am dealing illicit drugs.
Once I get passed the first barrier of entry (registration), I enter the second barrier. The PCR test line. Twenty minutes later, I sat on the chair in front of the health worker, and they shoved the swab up my nose into my throat. I felt violated. After the test, I wave goodbye and good luck to my friend and head home, where I will be stuck for the next seven days.
The first three days did not feel great. Pounding headache, scratchy dry throat, the occasional cough and congestion, and extreme fatigue. However, I did enjoy the time I had to catch up on Korean dramas, deep clean my room, and call my family. In the mornings, the sun would shine brightly into my room. The days went by fast. For seven days, I did not have to think about my research. All of my documents and articles were on my work computer. I slept all day. I ordered delivery and did the occasional squat workout. I played online games with my COVID crew. And, because of the vaccine, I enjoyed my time despite feeling sick. I was not scared of anything happening out of the normal.
During the quarantine period, I experienced the South Korean election. I have many thoughts and concerns about the results but I don't think it is appropriate nor do I have the patience to write my thoughts. However, the South Korean elections were 100x more amusing than the U.S. presidential elections. One of the top news networks created animated versions of the candidates and had them dance to popular Korean pop songs. It was disturbing. Check it out:
Now I am back to reality. For two weeks, I had a slight cough and fatigue. I tried to suppress my coughs to prevent stares. One month later, all symptoms subsided except for the ongoing fatigue and lack of focus.
Too much Korean
We were warned that we may experience language burnout during the Fulbright Orientation. By Month 6, Fulbright was right, and I reached my limit of listening to Korean every day. My co-worker, friends, and the employees at local businesses do not speak English. I do not expect anyone to speak English to me. However, I am always pleasantly surprised and moved when someone does.
I am fully immersed in the language. It is a privilege because I am forced to practice speaking and listening. However, when times get tough, I become trapped in my thoughts. My vocabulary is at the level of a 5-year-old. I do not have the words to express complicated feelings, wants, and needs. I am easily frustrated that I have to minimize how I feel through words like "happy," "sad," "mad," and "frustrated." I want to tell people that I am overwhelmed, exasperated, and grateful.
I did not know I was reaching my language limit. One day, I broke down and did not understand where my emotions were spurring out from. Maybe I was mad at my friends, frustrated at my research, or felt extreme loneliness.
I took a long walk to the beach and realized that while I may have felt many of these emotions, I felt trapped in my word. I was relieved that I had found the cause for these emotions but also sad that I could not express to my Korean friends and co-workers why I was experiencing these feelings. I convinced myself that I was alone in my thoughts. However, as my master's advisor said to me, I have the gift ( or curse) of showing my emotions and thoughts on my face. In broken Korean, my friends and co-workers understood what I was experiencing, and they were determined to help me. They committed themselves to teaching me Korean. They did not want me to isolate. I appreciate the kindness and patience from everyone.
I have 2.5 months left in Korea, and I am finding every possible way to stay here longer. I am living my best life and feel like I am right where I belong. Watch for the next post. I will cover everything and anything spring-y.