Fighting for Life: My COVID Battle in 2021

It was around 1:30 in the morning when the coughing woke me. By that point I had been battling COVID for days, but this night felt different. The cough was worse. A nervousness I had not felt before crept in.

I prayed, put on some music, and tried to go back to sleep. It did not last.

At around 3 AM, I woke from a dream — vivid, detailed, and terrifying. In it, I had received test results showing that my chances of survival were nearly zero. People around me were preparing to say goodbye. It felt so real that when I woke, I had to talk myself out of reaching for my phone to send final messages to my family.

That was the moment I realised: the real battle was not medical. It was mental.

When Fear Attacks at the Worst Moment

There is something about illness — especially serious illness — that strips away your defenses. During the day, you can rationalise. You can look at statistics. You can remind yourself that most people recover.

But at 3 AM, alone, with a worsening cough and a body that feels like it is failing, rationality disappears. What replaces it is raw, primal fear. And fear has a voice. It tells you:

This is it. You are not going to make it.
It is too late. The damage is done.
No one can help you now.

The room felt heavy. Dark in a way that went beyond the absence of light. Every shadow seemed to carry weight.

The Decision to Fight Back

I sat in the bathroom, shaking, trying to process what was happening. And then something shifted. I made a conscious decision: I would not give in to the fear.

Not because I was brave. I was terrified. But because I recognised what was happening — this was a battle for my mind, and I was losing it.

So I started speaking. Out loud. To the darkness. To the fear. To the voice that was telling me I was done.

I am here for a reason. My work is not finished.
Fear does not get to decide my outcome.
I will not make decisions based on panic.
I choose to fight — not because I am guaranteed to win, but because giving up is not an option.

I said these things over and over. I played music. I drank hot water. I prayed until I ran out of words, and then I just sat in silence.

The Turning Point

Slowly — not dramatically, not in an instant — the heaviness lifted. The room felt lighter. My breathing eased. The fear did not vanish, but it lost its grip. By 7 AM, I was asleep. And when I woke, I knew something had changed.

Not in my body — I was still sick. But in my mind. I had crossed a line from passive endurance to active resistance. For days, I had been playing defence against the virus, waiting and hoping. That night forced me to go on the offensive — not just against the illness, but against the despair that comes with it.

What I Took Away

That night taught me things that no leadership book or business course ever could:

Fear is loudest when you are weakest. The voice of panic always comes at the worst possible moment — when you are tired, sick, alone, or overwhelmed. Knowing this does not make it easier, but it helps you recognise what is happening.

The battle is almost always mental before it is physical. Whether it is an illness, a business crisis, or a personal loss, the mind gives up long before the body does. Winning the mental fight is more than half the battle.

Speaking truth in the dark matters. There is real power in articulating what you know to be true, even when everything around you contradicts it. It sounds simple, but in the middle of the night with death on your mind, speaking out loud is an act of defiance.

Survival is not passive. You do not drift into recovery. You fight for it — with every tool available, with every ounce of resolve, with the support of everyone around you.

I recovered from COVID. My wife, who was battling cancer at the time, was by my side through it all — which makes this memory both precious and painful, given what came later.

But that 3 AM fight changed how I approach everything. Every difficult business decision, every moment of doubt in my humanitarian work, every season of spiritual dryness — I go back to that dark room and remember: I chose to fight, and the darkness broke.

It always does.