I’m on the train to France, where I’m working as a postdoc in mathematics. We are in the second year of the COVID-19 pandemic, and masks are mandatory, as well as filling out forms in French for every journey. My thoughts are racing. I have the feeling that I cannot finish my thoughts, similar to when one is trying to tell a story, but loses oneself in subordinate clauses and never finishes the original sentence or plot line.

As my thoughts speed up, I feel like I’m suffocating in my mask. 

Wait – people with severe COVID have that feeling too – maybe it’s that? Then I have to find a hospital here in France, and I only speak very little French – when I’m home I will immediately do a COVID test – but it’s also very likely that this is because of the upcoming psychosis – I haven’t been able to sleep normally for a week now.

Now I see there are police on the train. I panic. 

They are certainly here for me. I’ve probably made a mistake in the forms I filled out with help of Google Translate. They are going to arrest me and put me in jail – only to transfer me to a psychiatric hospital where they will force me to take Haldol (or just give me a jab with it), which will make my head hazy – doing math will be impossible for many months, my career will be over, my life will be over – and make me move like in an advanced stage of Parkinson’s. 

At this point I can only cry. They are walking by once again. I message a friend back home that I’m going to be arrested and my worst nightmare will come true.

When I arrive at my apartment in France, I immediately take a rapid test. Negative. That means the tightness in my chest is panic, not Covid. I take a Lorazepam tablet and slowly the tightness dissolves. I lie on my bed for 20 minutes, and I stop crying. Then I have to go to the meeting with my postdoc supervisor. I do my best to survive the meeting… my head is still racing yet numbed by the Lorazepam at the same time… I didn’t make any progress on my project (already for weeks now)… 

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