39.5 (103) fever, cough, body aches, and a PCR test later all confirmed that I had Covid.
Two days before, I woke up with a mild cough. Nothing out of the ordinary, I thought, and took a round of allergy meds. I went to work. I felt progressively worse throughout the day, but it was not enough to cause alarm. Still, I thought it was allergies.
When I got home and checked my temperature, it was at 37.6 - just pushing a fever. Immediately I messaged my manager to let the company know I was sick and would be taking the next day off. Already my mind was going through the possibility I had corona (again).
That night my fever spiked rapidly, and I was rushed to the emergency room in an ambulance covered in plastic. EMTs wearing hazmat suits wheeled me out of my home on a stretcher with a plastic hood covering my head.
Because my fever was so high, the doctors wanted to keep me overnight for observation, but the covid ward was completely out of beds (even though I hadn’t tested positive yet, that was the only place they could put me because of my symptoms). My only option was to be sent home with weak fever-reducing medication - a lower dosage than regular ibuprofen.
The day after, my test came back positive.
All at once, there was a storm of calls from different bureaucratic offices. The health department, hospital, and other parts of the government were all collecting information separately. I understood the offices were busy with a sudden surge in cases, but it was frustrating to repeat all my information multiple times while I was so sick. Throughout the day I had nearly twenty-five phone calls - all in Japanese.
The cherry on top was my landlord saying that because I lived with roommates, I was required to go to a quarantine hotel.
By this point, I was sicker than I had ever been in my life, delirious with fever, frustrated from having to repeat information so many times, and being kicked out of my home.
All I wanted to do was sleep.
But, there is no rest for the wicked.
Japan’s policy, as of writing this, for quarantine is ten days of isolation including 72 hours of no symptoms from the start of your first symptoms. That meant that, since two days had passed, I would be staying eight days in the hotel.
The person making arrangements for me helped provide a packing list. The hotel would provide basic amenities like shampoo, soap, toothbrushes, and washcloths. I would have to bring my own towel, and a week’s worth of clothes. There was no laundry available.
I packed laundry detergent just in case I needed to do some washing the old-fashioned way in the sink or bathtub.
At exactly 4:30, I drove to the health department, waited at the meetup point, and followed the government van to the hotel. Transportation options were available for people without cars.
Everything from the point of arriving at the hotel was rigidly structured and kept at a distance. I walked through a pathway of plastic. Through the plastic, I could see pictures of bread plastered on the walls, and I realized I was walking through the hotel bakery. There was a “check-in” station. A brown paper bag waited with all my amenities - namely masks, a thermometer, and a finger pulse oximeter.
The elevator ride up to my room was just as rigid. What once was a semi-classy lift, had been covered in plastic and signs explaining the hotel rules in multiple languages.
My room was on the very end of the 7th floor. It was spacious for a Japanese hotel. The bed - what I was most excited about - was large enough to flop on and spread out.
I intended to do just that and sleep for the rest of the day, but again, no rest for the wicked.
It was another three hours of filling out paperwork, speaking to nurses, the front desk, and the catering manager (for my dietary restrictions). I arrived at the hotel at 4:30 pm, and the paperwork and calls went on until 9 pm.
I was grateful for the government putting me in a nice room and offering their care, but I was so sick and so tired that it was painful to keep talking. Everyone on the phone was patient to take breaks for my coughing fits.
Finally, though, once all the bureaucratic and management necessities were out of the way, I was able to sleep and things settled into a routine - for the next 8 days.
A chime over the announcement system woke all the residents. It was time for the first check up of the day.
I was required to check my temperature, oxygen saturation, and heartbeat. I registered my information with the government app - HerSys.
The nurses called to speak with me personally. I usually fell back asleep after registering my information and when they called me.
The catering team announced breakfast. Meals were placed on shelves beside the elevator. Going to get meals was the only time we were allowed out of our rooms.
Breakfasts were different every day, but followed a general theme of onigiri, bread, yogurt, juice, or a salad. It was generally more food than I could eat for one meal, so I stored some things in the mini-fridge for a snack later if I wanted it.
The chime sounded again. Lunch was served.
Lunches were always some sort of bento, occasionally with miso soup. They were medium size, and the quality was generally good. Some days were better than others.
The second health check of the day. The nurses were always kind and made sure to let me know I could call them if I ever had any concerns. By the latter half of my stay, they joked with me that I already knew what they would ask.
Dinner was served. These were usually the best and largest bentos of the day. I had heard of people at other hotels saying the quality of food was so-so, but I was pleasantly surprised.
There were options to order Uber Eats or other food delivery services, but I never felt the need to.
After that first day, they did not need any more information or paperwork from me. I was free to spend my days how I wanted.
As nice as the room was, this was no vacation; I was there because I was sick.
There were times at night when other residents’ coughs echoed throughout the halls.
The hotel wi-fi was weak, at times fully unusable. During the wi-fi outages, I played Switch games, watched TV, and slept extensively.
I brought gear to teach online lessons, but the wi-fi was uncooperative. I chose to take that as the universe’s sign I needed to fully focus on resting. So, for one week, I did no work whatsoever.
The days bled together, and eventually I lost track of how long I had been confined into this one room. I grew used to everything being provided for me, and I found comfort watching the bullet train speed by outside my window.
Slowly, but surely, I recovered.
I was cleared to check out the following Friday at 10:30 am. I asked if I could check out at an earlier time to make it to work, but the time was rigid and determined by the health department.
At 10:30 the next morning, I walked out of the hotel covid-free, and saw the sun for the first time in eight days.
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