Is it the end?

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. After seven and a half decades of living, it's scary to think I may not be alive next week. To think that after surviving malaria, flu, dengue, pneumonia and typhoid, I might succumb to this lethal virus which has the capacity to kill everyone on earth. It has resurfaced in those who recovered, which means it won't go away soon. A scientist has said it will reduce in intensity in June but could come back with greater force in November.

Now I know how a condemned man feels, waiting for the day on which he'll be hanged. I thought of buying more of my medication to keep in stock, but what's the use? Men and women over sixty are at great risk, particularly if they have defective respiratory systems (like me). 

The other day a man (actually not more than a boy, he was only 22) was killed in an accident. The first thought that came to my mind was, "Lucky chap, he was spared being killed by this dreadful virus". In recent days I have been thinking of all those whom I knew and who have died. Most of them were in their sixties, I wonder whether they would have survived the corona virus. It's like living after a nuclear explosion, dying a horrible, slow death. 

The world has ground to a halt. In many countries, work has stopped. The most poignant thing I read was a tweet by a woman. Her husband is a doctor who said to her, "Darling, I'll surely die soon, but I'm sorry you'll also be affected by this virus". 

I have been writing here to leave a record for my descendants, so they'll know how people lived in these times. Now I'm not sure if there will be any one who will read what I have written.