It has been a week of overwhelming tasks, strenuous activity, unforeseen events, and little rest. I am exhausted and my energy is consumed.

An exacerbated and exasperating tiredness runs through my whole anatomy. I sense that something is wrong, my senses become undisciplined, my body expresses listlessness, antipathy and disobedience to activity, coordination is not the same. My eyes are dull, dark circles frame my eyelids. My limbs become numb, I lose dexterity and balance.

I sail adrift. Weakness anxiously seeks to separate my body from my mind. Purposefully, it assaults and overwhelms it, hurts my neurons, and I wander in vagueness and imprecision.

As the hours pass, my senses become clouded, the tumult is joined by general malaise, languor, and decay. Imprints that proclaim and announce the arrival of the disease.

My vital systems are conquered and broken into by an external enemy with ambitious priorities. It invades my organism, and attacks my equilibrium. With possession in an accelerated and uncontrolled manner it generates instability. It besieges and fatigues me, degrades and outrages me.

There is no possibility of doubt, the presence of a foreign agent is a fact. In my organism, alarms generated for defense and protection are activated in key places. The intention is to preserve my life at all costs.

The blood burns in my veins. The body temperature begins to rise uncontrollably and abusively, with no intention of decreasing. Nothing can stop it, medicines and physical means do not shorten it. If there is one thing she has, it is her irreverence and independence, nothing overcomes her or stops her when it comes to defending the body.

The immune system turns instructions to the defense cells. My white blood cells, my battle soldiers, in their different classifications, prepare themselves quickly. Ready to multiply by the thousands if necessary, to enclose and attack the infectious agent, to prevent its terrible spread. Many will die in the revolt and will be replaced by others. There is uncertainty, the consequences are unknown and unpredictable.

Roles are reversed, the hunter is hunted. Today I am a numb patient in bed. My understanding darkens, and precipitates consternation.

The now visit me and knock on my door, it tune me in and reminds me how human and imperfect, I am, how soft, vulnerable, and fleeting my existence is. Fear and uneasiness come with the shadows, imprison me, afflict me.

Physical examination, imaging, and laboratory studies corroborated my suspicions and demonstrated the expected findings. The usurper took my lungs, and by the invasion of the bloodstream. I presented an evolving pneumonia.

I have always enjoyed good health and a reinforced defense system, with healthy habits and lifestyles. But Covid-19 left indelible traces in my organism and after-effects that may become permanent. Traces not to forget that he was here, traces that mark a before and an after in my existence.

There came days of great ambiguity, fraught with difficulties, of the fight against the invader, with all the possible and established arsenal.

I have moments of less precise memories, with exacerbated symptoms in evidence, high and uncontrollable fever, cough, and increased respiratory distress. Deep down I am grateful that I don't remember everything. I am fortunate, for what my memory has been able to hide from me, in the most out-of-tune and off-kilter instants.

They were restless and restless nights, sacrificing the validity of restful sleep. I went through the affliction of the sick. These are situations that placed me on the other side, in a scenario in which I do not move much, in which I was not trained and did not learn as a doctor.

In the days that followed, my organism was responding favorably and evolving satisfactorily, although, in my opinion, the recovery process was parsimonious. I recovered my spirits, and my general condition. The listlessness and asthenia gradually disappeared and I recovered my appetite.

My impatience with inactivity was shocking and shameless. In recovery, my thoughts were racing faster than my body. I tried to do small activities, but the effort annihilated me. I could no longer deny reality, I had to behave like what I was at that moment, a sick person in the process of convalescence.

With determination, I sequestered the impatience and confusion, I decided to give time to time, emancipating the hands of the clock to free will.

In tune with this, the vulnerability and weakness of my being in the face of illness began to emerge, thus bursting into my most human, imperfect, and unfinished dimension.