It all started eight days ago. I realized that I was feeling strangely cold, and that I was suddenly pissing and pooping myself without warning. I know, I’m a old man, a very old one, but this? I’m still completely rational and in control of my mind! However, even if I still felt cold, after I cleaned myself, I didn’t feel the need to go to the toilet again, so I decided to just stay home and browse the Internet or watch TV as usual. The only part of my routine I didn’t do was my daily yoga and walk around the park, because I had woken up with my limbs very rigid that day. It’s fine. Just a cold, I thought before going to sleep.
A few days later, in which I was increasingly unable to perform my daily routine, I woke up late. Immediately after getting out of bed, I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything the day before, so I went to drink a coffee in the cafeteria on the next street to have breakfast. When I entered the place, I noticed I could not smell the croissants there. This was alarming, but I tried to proceed as usual. When I tried to eat, I couldn’t taste the delicacies. When I drank, I couldn’t feel the coffee’s delicious warmth and hotness. Maybe I had Covid once again? I remembered I also could not taste anything when I had it in 2020.
After a couple of hours in the waiting room, that I should note were particularly not enjoyable because there were flies everywhere and everyone was complaining about the smelly air-conditioner, I finally talked to my dear Dr. Jennifer. She was very confused when she locked at my torso, and the fact that somehow there was a open wound I hadn’t noticed in my back full of larvae was not particularly pretty for her eyes.
A handful of hours later, I had been taken in an ambulance to the closest SUS emergency room, and for some reason, there were at least ten doctors and nurses walking in circles around me in visible confusion. They were talking something about me not having any vitals, and they wanted me to go into the EMR to see how the hell my brain was still working. I mean, were they sure this was not a new Covid variant? It could not be Covid because my respiratory system was technically non-functional, they said, but it didn’t convince me. I may look ignorant, but I assure you in the good old days I was the finest carpenter in town, and I sure as hell have no time for all this medical mumbo-jumbo, so I just got up when they were busy arguing to each other and walked home. I had a supper and went to sleep.
Before we proceed, I must say that my house is near a swamp, and sometimes some bugs enter my house. Usually I close the window to avoid them, but I wasn’t feeling strong enough to do it. When I woke up, two days ago, I saw my belly was completely ripped open and was full of cockroaches, worms and flies. My lower zones were infested with undigested food and some strange liquids, and somehow even more full of bugs. There were entire legions of ants crawling through the open window next to my bed and biting me all over. I tried to vomit, but I couldn’t feel saliva or vomit in my mouth. In fact, I couldn’t feel anything at all. Also, I saw my limbs were very inflamed, bloated even, one could say. Okay, this was definitely not Covid. I tried to call a taxi or even a uber, but when the drivers saw me, they drove away quickly. It was then that I noticed that my hair had fallen and that there was something heavy in my pants. I lowered them quickly to look, and my bowels started to fall right there on the street.
After picking my intestines and inserting them back on my ass, I entered my house again, and decided I had to look more presentable, even if my condition was deplorable. I put on four boxers to avoid more things falling out, put heavy jackets and three trousers, and a hat. My legs could not take much more, however, and I looked too disgusting to try and call a uber, so I decided to go to the bus stop and take one to the hospital. As it’s usual here in Rio, the vehicle was overflowing with people, but luckily I was able to elderly-reserved seat. What was not luckily was when, mid-ride, after a bumper, my arm violently collided against a wall, loudly cracked, and fell to the floor, along with several worms, larvae, ants and cockroaches. There was screaming all around the bus, and the old woman sitting besides me, that I must say was not very comfortable with my smell before the accident, vomited and then fainted.
I tried to calm then down, but one of the passengers said he was a doctor, and he needed to see how large my wind was, and removed my clothes before I could stop him. What followed was a shitshow, with everyone vomiting, screaming, children crying, and even some people complaining their wallets and cellphones disappeared. The doctor was notably surprised, to say the least, screamingly asking how was I still alive and if I even was human. Not even a minute later, group of noisy kids surrounded me and one of them dared the others to steal one of my organs in exchange for Fortnite credits or something, and before I knew, one of the dimwits introduced his hand in my open chest, and removed my ribcage, before screaming in horror and then running away. The madness continued all throughout my journey to the hospital, and by the end they were literally dragging me to the hospital by my legs.
When things finally calmed down, I had been locked in one of those sci-fi-esque bacteria-free isolation chambers. Not that I could go anywhere on my own. My legs were not responding anymore. Tens of doctors analyzed me, and there were even some local news trying to get a interview, but the hospital didn’t let anyone to avoid people getting contaminated by the immense bacteria circlejerk that my body had become. Nobody understood my condition, and even less people tried to try some kind of treatment. By all logic, medical knowledge, science, laws of reality and common sense, I had been dead for at least a week, yet my body lived on, as if my soul was possessing my rotten corpse.
Today, as I write this with my remaining three fingers, I hear the nurses openly discussing how they will cremate my body as soon as they are sure I won’t be able to complain with my voice. I can’t use my mouth anymore, but still can use my vocal cords with extreme difficulty. I cannot see anymore, since today’s morning, as my eyes have decayed. I am not able to move my legs anymore, nor my neck. Merely typing my story on my cellphone has taken several hours, luckily I still hear things and had turned blind mode on before it was too late.
But I’m not writing this only to feel sorry about myself. The thing is, new, smaller isolation chambers were installed in the room just next to mine yesterday. I saw several people being in those. Some I didn’t know, but some I recognized. Dr. Jennifer, some of her patients from the waiting room, the cafeteria employees, the woman who sat next to me on the bus, the doctor who removed my jacket and the kid that grabbed my ribcage. They were all rotting alive, just like me.