The day I had to choose between suffering from painful balls or getting Covid-19

As Murphy’s Law would have it, barely a week into our lockdown, I developed orchitis.


When our government announced a 21-day national lockdown in an effort to flatten the coronavirus infection curve, I thought: “This will be easy, especially since I am a homebody and have perfected the art of social distancing.” Not so! As Murphy’s Law would have it, barely a week into our lockdown, I developed what would later be diagnosed as orchitis (severe inflammation of the testes) due to increased fluid (called hydrocele). Considering that I am HIV positive and on antiretrovirals, which come with an array of side-effects, I would under normal conditions immediately have made my way to a doctor’s…

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When our government announced a 21-day national lockdown in an effort to flatten the coronavirus infection curve, I thought: “This will be easy, especially since I am a homebody and have perfected the art of social distancing.”

Not so!

As Murphy’s Law would have it, barely a week into our lockdown, I developed what would later be diagnosed as orchitis (severe inflammation of the testes) due to increased fluid (called hydrocele).

Considering that I am HIV positive and on antiretrovirals, which come with an array of side-effects, I would under normal conditions immediately have made my way to a doctor’s room. But these are far from normal conditions the pandemic has placed us under.

Encouraging myself to “grow a pair” and “hang low” until whatever this was subsided seemed a much better option than having to visit a medical professional. After all, the news wires were rife with horror stories of health staff being most at risk of Covid-19 infection and even dying.

“As medical workers in Italy struggle to treat patients with coronavirus, a large number of them have contracted the virus themselves. Seventeen doctors have died from Covid-19 and there is a total of 3,654 medical staff who are infected,” Italy’s National Health Institute said in a statement on the same day my ailment hit.

Needless to say, my pep talk lasted all of 24 hours before the pain became so excruciating that I started walking around my apartment with the gracefulness of a snail attempting a plié in a parody of Swan Lake.

With no medical aid, limited funds and the only the word of WebMD that I did not need to see a massively expensive urology specialist, I made my way to my local general practitioner.

Three days later and following about R2,000 worth of medical consultation, antibiotics and sleep-inducing painkillers, my condition and the pain were worse than before.

At this stage, even the fear of contracting Covid-19 paled in comparison and I made my way to the Netcare Milpark Hospital’s casualty unit.

There is something to be said about this coronavirus and its ability to mess up everything we know. From sending the global economy into a dizzying free fall to fuelling job losses and limiting social interaction, this invisible little tyrant also has a sneaky way of getting inside people’s heads – mine included.

Let’s be honest, how many of you have already started imagining that you are displaying some of the known symptoms of Covid-19 after popping out to your corner store to restock your cupboard?

Now imagine the anxiety that comes with knowing you have no choice but to visit one of the biggest and busiest private medical facilities in Johannesburg, where just weeks ago a local news agency reported that Covid-19 fear had gripped the hospital’s employees after an area was cordoned off for about two weeks?

In its defence, the facility did issue a statement guaranteeing the public and its staff that there was nothing to worry about as there were no suspected cases of the disease at any of their facilities at the time.

“We wish to assure the South African public that they are in safe hands at a Netcare Group facility during the outbreak of the virus. Credible health information is a powerful means of prevention, and we will do our utmost to help equip the public with important Covid-19 information at this time,” said Netcare Group chief executive officer Dr Richard Friedland on their website.

With Dr Friedland’s words as my mantra for the day, I arrived at the hospital to a scene from the movie Contagion, with blocks and checks and sprays and gels and surgical masks and, and, and … the good doctor’s calming words quickly drowned in my mental tsunami of irrational thought.

My palms became clammy, my pulse was racing and I could feel the blood rush to my face.

“What if my fear erroneously registers as Covid-19 infection and they quarantine me with actual infected patients, and that’s how I become infected?” I thought frantically.

I had to sidestep the screening counter just to calm myself and remind myself of an article I’d read in the Miami New Times on the health ramifications of Covid-19-related anxiety and stress.

In it, Dr Rachel Rohaidy, a psychiatrist with Baptist Health South Florida, said: “Our minds are not detached from our bodies. Whatever event happens that we don’t know how to deal with, those stressors can manifest into physical symptoms.”

The reason Dr Rohaidy’s words resonated with me is that 21 years ago when I was diagnosed with HIV, there was very little information and treatment available – much the same with our current pandemic.

At that time, most doctors cautioned newly diagnosed HIV patients to monitor and do all they could to reduce their stress levels because, as my own doctor put it: “Stress is a killer for HIV-positive people.”

And with news that HIV-positive people are already more susceptible to Covid-19, Dr Rohaidy says coronavirus-related stress can compound the conditions of people who are already immunocompromised.

“And it can affect the psychological state of anyone regardless of history.”

Three cigarettes later in the hospital’s designated smoking area, and rudely brushing off a security guard who approached me for a smoke – I was granted access to the casualty unit.

To cut a long story short – the additional R1,000 for the hospital, R700 for the examination, R1,045 for the sonogram and R475 for the new course of medication was well worth it.

I made my way home, started taking my medication as prescribed and kept reminding myself that my runny nose was only because the temperature in Johannesburg had dropped by a few degrees.

Take care of your body and spirit

Here are some tips for practising self-care in the face of the unique disruptions caused by the coronavirus:

  • Go easy on yourself if you’re experiencing more depression or anxiety than usual. You’re not alone in your struggles.
  • Maintain a routine as best you can. Even if you’re stuck at home, try to stick to your regular sleep, meals or work schedule. This helps maintain a sense of normalcy.
  • Read a good book, watch a comedy, play a fun board or video game, try a new recipe.
  • If you have a balcony or garden, get some sunshine and fresh air.
  • Find ways to exercise. Staying active will help you release anxiety, relieve stress, and manage your mood.
  • Be careful that you’re not using alcohol or other substances to deal with anxiety or depression.
  • Take up a relaxation practice. When stressors throw your nervous system out of balance, relaxation techniques such as deep breathing, meditation and yoga can bring you back into a state of equilibrium.

SOURCE: helpguide.org

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