After months of dread, I have learnt to coexist with Covid-19

My colleagues at work assumed it would not affect us in Nigeria, but considering my body size and statistics showing obese people stood a lower chance of overcoming Covid-19 as they could be having pre-existing health conditions, I was beside myself with fear.

Denying myself food

If someone came close, I quickly moved away to create space between us.

Also, I started denying myself food in order to lose weight and regulate my high blood pressure.

I went from having two meals a day to one, sometimes only breakfast cereal, a terrible idea that resulted in stomach ulcers.

I also took vitamins and drank lemon and ginger teas non-stop, based on the advice of Whatsapp broadcast messages that claimed they strengthened the immune system.

Whether they did mine, I cannot say.

Meanwhile, I tried to convince my colleagues that the virus was real with online videos, articles, and interviews from the director of the United States National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases Anthony Fauci.

It took a BBC news clip of an isolation centre in Nigeria and interviews with coronavirus patients to eventually change their minds. Some, however, remained bothered.

I took to wearing face masks in public, which attracted weird looks from passers-by.

In addition, I became obsessed with sanitisers and wipes.

I used disinfectant on door knobs, my refrigerator and car handles.

I sprayed and wiped down groceries and even went as far as sanitising ATM keypads, much to the chagrin of bank security personnel.

After I ran out of sanitiser and could not restock, I took to spraying door knobs with diluted rubbing alcohol that soon turned the handles rusty.

A mass of nerves

Shopping during the first wave of the pandemic involved buying items in bulk or going just after opening hours to avoid crowds, and using an online company that delivered perishables.

Eventually, the Nigerian government eased the lockdown in late July.

However, my uneasiness did not lift. I continued sanitising my car and made guests disinfect their hands.

By October, anxiety had turned me into a mass of nerves and made concentrating at work all but impossible.

Teetering on the edge, I took one week off work, which gave me a chance to finally take a good, hard look at myself.

My beard, wild and bushy, constantly required pushing hair out of my mouth when I ate.

The hair on my head was overgrown from avoiding the barber for weeks on end.

My obsessive fear of the coronavirus had exaggerated the worst case scenario, leading me to hermetically seal my life at the expense of happiness and human connection.

Sitting alone in my house, I reached the conclusion that, with or without the virus, death is inevitable.

I came to realise that with a little sanitiser in the pocket, I could coexist with coronavirus without necessarily being a slave to my fears.