I am Invisible

May 5, 2025

Canadian Teen

Photo: RawPixel, CC

I was in grade six when Covid entered my school and community. This was a scary time for me as an immune compromised kid. I already missed large amounts of school due to illness before the pandemic.  There were no vaccines to protect us yet, only the ability to limit the spread by controlling how people gather with each other. When the other kids returned to class, I couldn’t. I spent the next school year on the couch trying to learn grade seven online through a computer screen. Friendships, connections and life began to fade into the background. A few coaches in the community set up private sessions online. One had arranged a gym and that was the only contact with anyone from my past that I had. Some people’s lives expanded, while mine contracted until there was nothing.

The narrative from medical professionals at the BC CDC was that Covid was mild for kids and that they weren’t getting infected at school. They seemed to be more concerned about getting back to normal than protecting the health of kids like me. So, when vaccines became available, immune compromised children sheltering at home weren’t prioritized. I was left looking forward to in-person class for another year before I was able to get vaccinated. Unfortunately, a few months after being vaccinated it was clear mask mandates were being removed thanks to groups of parents advocating for relaxed health policies. They claimed to want what was best for kids. But it was kids like me who paid the price for others freedoms. Life was anything but normal for me. My grade seven class had a graduation without me.

Many doctors advocated for me requesting a HEPA filter at school. My parents offered to purchase the HEPA filter for the district. The doctors were ignored and these requests were refused each time quoting the k-12 public health guidelines. When other people’s masks came off so did their care of me. In classes I had groups of kids pull off my mask saying they needed to see my face; or that they wondered what I looked like under the mask. I had educators ask me if I was afraid because I was still masking. When Rochelle Walensky, the CDC Director at the time, referred to masks as the scarlet letter of the pandemic she was promoting behavior like this.  Messages like this from public health harms kids like me. A mask is a medical tool I use so I can be at school more safely. Masks should not be stigmatized and wearing one is not a sign of anxiety.

When the school refused the HEPA filter my parents asked where I would sit if a student came to school sick. I was told I could sit in a hallway, as if the year already excluded from in-person learning meant nothing. The large table we were sitting around suddenly became as wide as a football field and I felt as small as a football being punted when viewed at the top of the stands. I spoke what felt like the smallest version of my voice possible, and said “how do I get the same education in the hallway?” The educators looked at each other and then public health backed them up by putting it in writing. “HEPA filters are not required; there is the option of distancing.” The hallway wasn’t a solution, it was exclusion. When sick kids showed up in class, I came home to a safer and kinder place. A place where I was seen and not treated like I could and should be invisible. I spent a month at home during high viral transmission periods. During this time my art class had to write an essay and create a poster showing discrimination. When I handed my assignment into my teacher for a preview, I described how making a poster on discrimination made me feel, especially while I was experiencing it. This was the lowest point of the last two years until I became infected.

I survived the last three months of the school year and felt the relief of summer. Followed by the dread of return to class in the fall. The school became a sea of unmasked kids and closed windows. More doctors’ letters asking for a HEPA filter were submitted and refused. The guidance issued by the province did not consider the needs of vulnerable children even though it claimed to have been created for them. The guidance was infection based, and not protective. To be protective they would have to admit Covid was airborne. Omicron was mild and like a cold was the misinformation given to all, making advocacy for individual needs impossible for those who needed more.

In 2022 I got infected with COVID and it was anything but mild. It sent me to my bed for a week with the most severe headache of my life, fever, body aches, and the most annoying nonstop ringing in my ears that left me sleepless. How did a simple shower leave me with no energy to put on my socks? How did eating breakfast leave me struggling with the energy to move on? Always a return to bed where I tried to gain the energy that would allow me to make it through the next activity. I was an elite basketball player, playing on some of the most skilled teams in the province. COVID left me unable to climb a flight of stairs. When I stood up my heart raced and pounded in my chest. The room would spin, and I would have to lie down before passing out.

I tried to go to school but struggled to get through the day. Class transitions were hard. How was I supposed to stand up and walk to class in a sea of 3,000 people moving swiftly through the hallway to the next class? If I did manage to make it to the next class I sat in my seat with brain fog, my body trying to be upright while my brain struggled to learn. All I wanted to do was lay my head on a pillow, instead I put my head down on my desk. My hands clammy, how could I hold a pen? I was called unmotivated and was accused of needing to use my in-class time more wisely. Couldn’t they see that I was trying to remain upright, and it was taking all my energy to do this? I would try to manage one class and then two but had to call someone to come get me and take me home where I would fall into my bed and sleep for hours. I fell behind in my classes and then tried to make it through my tutoring with the little energy I could muster. There was no energy for friends. There was no energy for anything fun. Each day was a struggle just to make it through. Hours of this became days, then weeks, then months which have turned into years. I have Long Covid.

I tried to rejoin my school sports team but was left sitting largely on the bench as there was no return to sport guidance after having covid. I was once a starter and now struggled to get back into the game. Running across the court brought on worsening symptoms. I would pound my chest telling my coach to pull me off. Comments to me about being a streaky player and putting my skills down became a regular occurrence stripping away my identity, my belonging, my friendships. I was put down by elite players. Sometimes I could make my shots and other days it felt like my whole body was in concrete and I couldn’t make my muscles move. They stopped giving me the ball. Eventually I was replaced in the line up with someone who could consistently perform. I left the sport and the team. There was no return to sport plan. No one understood Long Covid. Even with an IEP (Individualized Education Program) there was little will from teachers and coaches to comprehend what I was dealing with. I had lost 60 days of in-class education. The school year ended, and my friends all celebrated the summer to come. I spent the entire summer trying to regain the energy lost from the year before. There was no game of pick-up ball for me, no time with friends enjoying the freedom the summer brings. I slept, long 18 hours of sleep, every day for two months just to be able to try again in the fall.

My Long Covid symptoms leave me with limited energy. Some days, especially if there is an exam, I need to skip a class to build up the energy I need to succeed. I prioritize my education based on what is in my schedule for tests, assignments, and all other energy demands. I am involved in leadership at the school which involves a tremendous amount of volunteer hours after school. These volunteer hours are tied to our marks. It is difficult to manage on the days I have to show up for volunteer hours after school. Sometimes I volunteer to score keep, because it is an activity I can do while seated. In addition, we have “little buddies” where we participate in gym activities with kindergarteners from another school. I was given two little buddies where most others were given one. The energy of two is an exponential energy relationship. Once I received an e-mail from the leadership teacher saying I was letting my little buddies down and while the odd class missed could be excused, this was unacceptable. I was prioritizing my needs as a newly diagnosed person with Long Covid and here I was being told I wasn’t doing my part in taking care of my little buddies’ needs. But who was caring for mine?

Technology, my school accommodation for the brain fog, also became my crux. The hum of the computer, the bright light, the small font became difficult to deal with. I tried periods of hyperfocus which left my energy drained for days. Sometimes the impact of a test or a big assignment came days later. As a result, these crashes, where I couldn’t will my body to move, were not easily tied to the cause. It was difficult getting anyone to understand this. Sometimes I was given more time to complete assignments to try to limit the crashes. But sometimes there was no more time to give. Working with limited energy and managing my energy envelope is a concept few people understand, including teachers. I was angry and frustrated, and it seemed that my school backpack became loaded with boulders each day.

I missed another two months of in-class education due to Long Covid and catching many other respiratory viruses causing my Long Covid symptoms to flair up. A recent virus worsened my Long Covid symptoms and added new onset joint pain to my symptoms. I missed in-class lectures, and educational content without meaningful assistance. My woodworking teacher told me “How am I supposed to mark this? It looks like some five-year-old slapped it together in his dad’s garage.” Which is ironic as that’s how I was beginning to feel about my IEP, medical care and the provincial public health policies. There was no school accommodations, medical treatment or public health policies to help me.

I had a new health care reality, appointments with specialists who had nothing to offer. A recent pediatrician’s appointment left me angry enough to leave the pediatric system. At a visit where I explained all my challenges and asked for support, the pediatrician told me that they couldn’t advocate for children because they were “just a pediatrician”. They also told me that all children recover from Long Covid which is an outright lie. I was sitting in front of them and hadn’t recovered. I walked to my car leaving the appointment angry about the wasted time and the message I received. Angry at my mom whose advocacy failed me. All of this a powerful message that from the onset remains, that I am invisible.