Mummy,

Are you okay?

You're worse than yesterday,

And your face is all grey.

But it's alright,

I'm here by your side,

I promise we'll find a way.

Mummy,

If you're not feeling good,

You should rest, you really should.

Daddy, brother, and I,

We get along just fine.

It's okay to sleep, it's not rude.

Mummy,

Why do you work like such?

We love you, and thank you very much.

But don't bear all the load,

It's a very very long road.

And the weather you've seen is harsh.

Mummy,

You don't have to be perfect.

I don't have a lot of tact,

But I need to tell you,

Stop being a fool.

It's okay to not be okay,

That's a fact.

I woke up this morning at 7 a.m., a small sense of dread for the day ahead weighing down on my mind. While getting dressed, I switched on the television. With the virus spreading as much as it had globally, especially in recent weeks, it had become more and more important to keep up with the latest news updates.

“...as of yesterday, no new cases have been discovered, with the number infected remaining at a controlled twenty-four. However, two of these cases remain in a critical condition. All twenty-four cases are currently warded at the National Centre of Infectious Diseases.”

While it did not seem as though the situation had become dire, there was an unmistakable air of tension in the country. Most people, me included, were on edge, wanting to protect ourselves. The last outbreak, one that had happened a good 17 years ago, traumatised too many to be forgotten so easily. I grabbed a face mask and a bottle of sanitizer as I left the house. Just in case.

There were fewer people at the coffee shop today. As I collected my breakfast, an ambulance driver walked in. Even with a mask covering his face, his dark eye-circles, pale complexion and disheveled hair betrayed his exhaustion. With the government sending out ambulances to ferry anyone who had shown the slightest symptom to the nearest hospital, it was not surprising that front-line workers like him were overworked. As he neared the counter, the barista’s face changed. “Sorry sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave…”...the man left without a fight, undoubtedly unsurprised. He walked dejectedly back to his ambulance. I contemplated offering to get him something, but decided it was too risky. I had two young siblings at home. Who knew who the man had encountered today?

When I reached the restaurant I worked at, the manager had just begun her morning briefing. I listened in as I took my temperature. “...we’ll not be providing masks for the service staff today; we’ve decided that it’s unnecessary, we’re following the government’s advice, only those who are unwell need to wear masks. In the meantime, remember to practice proper handwashing…”

Bullshit, I thought. If someone actually sick came in, “proper handwashing” wasn’t going to protect us from the viral spread. I wasn’t upset, though -- I understood that deep down on the inside, many people were hesitant to take such drastic measures beyond what was government sanctioned. No one wanted, or believed, the epidemic to be serious in our country, after all.

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I woke up this morning at 7 a.m., a sense of dread weighing down on my mind. While getting dressed, I switched on the television. It had become extremely imperative to keep up with the latest news updates.

“...the number of infected cases has increased by seven since last night, bringing the total to 80 confirmed cases in the country. Amongst the newly infected are a schoolteacher and two taxi drivers, and police are currently tracing their close contacts. It is believed that there is a new cluster forming around the east of the country, from which five of the seven new cases have been linked to…if the numbers continue rising, those with milder symptoms may be advised to rest at home instead of being quarantined in hospitals...”

It was a shock. The numbers had been rising faster and faster each day, and the people, previously complacent with the comforts of living in a first world country, began to panic. As I stepped into the grocery store to get some fruit for my mother, it looked one day away from complete mayhem. The queues snaked through the many aisles and some were close to reaching the back of the store. Passing through the rice, toilet paper, and canned goods aisles, I could see that they were mostly emptied out. I suppose, ever since the government labelled the outbreak a ‘code orange’, many felt that it was time to stock up for a disaster. Maybe they felt that at this point, there was no choice but for them to quarantine themselves at home. I exchanged nervous smiles with a man as I grabbed the last bag of rice off the now empty shelf. It was hard not to, when everyone else was doing the same.

Three hours later, as I stepped into town, I found the streets eerily empty and quiet. It was as though there had been an apocalypse. Meeting up with my friend in an emptier-than-usual cafe, we couldn’t help but discuss the outbreak. “You know, maybe it’s even safer in the other country where the virus came from than here. At least their authorities are really taking it seriously now.”

I smiled at her joke -- but all our government was saying so far was to “stay calm”. Hospitals would eventually run out of room. The virus could spread rapidly going unnoticed within our dense population. With such a long incubation period, we would not even know until it was too late.

What could we do?

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I woke up this morning at 7 a.m., finding that the sense of dread had become a constant fixture in my mind. While getting dressed, I switched on the television. The latest news updates were pouring in constantly, all day, every day, now.

“...authorities are now confirming what appears to be the 400th confirmed case of the virus present in the country, and investigating 70 other suspected cases. No known cure for the virus has been found. Those with mild symptoms are advised to self-medicate and quarantine themselves at home.”

None of my family members had shown any sign of being sick yet, but I knew it was simply a matter of time. My siblings had school to attend and my parents had to go to work. As for me, I had my part-time job at the restaurant -- however, there were fewer and fewer patrons every day, and I was receiving fewer and fewer shifts.

I blew my nose into a tissue. I had been having a runny nose for the past few days, a small ailment I suspected to have gotten from sleeping late and eating badly over the past week. Yesterday, I even developed a cough. No big deal, I thought. What were the chances that it was the virus? I hadn’t come into contact with anyone infected.

Regardless, I decided to visit a clinic after work.

The clinic was filled to the brim with people in masks, and there was a flurry of activity behind the receptionist’s desk as the doctor’s assistants rushed around, printing labels and issuing queue numbers. Even with the limited space, it was obvious that everyone was trying to avoid even the slightest bit of contact with each other -- every time someone coughed or sniffled, I could see a handful of people flinch.

At the counter, an agitated man spoke sharply to the receptionist. “...we’ve been here two hours, there hasn’t been any change in the queue, when can we see the doctor? My son is sick and really needs…” as his volume increased, the crowd shifted restlessly. I moved closer to hear the receptionist’s words. “...we’re stretched thin, running low on medicine...doctor is doing all he can...never handled such a large crowd before…”

I didn’t foresee myself getting help anytime soon, so I left. I was sure I could find some medication at home. Walking through the mall on the way home, I found it completely deserted. Many stores were closed and only one or two restaurants were open. A tiny virus had turned the place into a ghost town.

My thoughts wandered to the future. How long would this last? Would stores shut down for good from the lack of business? How badly would the economy be hit? How many people would be infected, and how many would die?

Would they ever find a cure?