04/21/2026
THE INVISIBLE WAR
Written by Chris Evans (Long COVID sufferer since 2023)
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I never dreamt it could happen to me,
but how very wrong could I be.
I thought I was strong, had immunity,
but this is what Long COVID is doing to me.
Each morning starts with a silent test —
what part of me will fail the rest.
Trying to explain what they cannot see,
while people decide it cannot be me.
I speak my truth, they shake their head,
as if the facts are something I’ve misread.
But this is my body, this is my fight,
a war that drags on day and night.
You go to the doctor, hoping they’ll know,
but they shrug and say, “We’ll give it a go.”
“We’ll send you to the COVID clinic — that’s what we’ll do.”
“Oh… they’ve all been closed now — so what do we do?”
Then comes the patronising smile, the sideways glance,
as if this illness is just circumstance.
“Oh, you’re a bit overweight,” they say with ease —
as if that explains collapsing knees.
As if that explains the breath I lose,
the pain, the fog, the heavy bruise.
They make you feel you’re wasting their time,
like your suffering is some imagined crime.
My job, my career — gone in the haze,
a life dismantled in slow‑motion days.
Not knowing how each sunrise will land,
some days I crawl, some days I stand.
Brain fog steals the sharpest part,
thoughts fall apart before they start.
Fatigue like chains I can’t break free,
a weight that crushes the strongest me.
Aches that linger, pains that bite,
anxiety stalking through the night.
Depression whispering I’m not enough,
simple things suddenly mountains of tough.
Out of breath from the smallest task,
a shadow of who I used to be, masked.
Moody, worn thin, patience stripped bare,
fighting a battle that’s never fair.
And then the toll on the ones I love —
the strain below, the silence above.
Once I stood strong, the provider, the guide,
now leaning on them with nowhere to hide.
I supported them all, did everything right,
worked through the day, pushed through the night.
Now I depend on them more than I choose,
and feeling a burden is its own kind of bruise.
But here’s the truth that must be told —
there are thousands suffering, young and old.
Lives upended, marriages strained,
dreams derailed, futures drained.
And still so many are left unheard,
their pain dismissed with a casual word.
But we are real, and we are here,
living each day with grit and fear.
Yet still we rise — though tired, though scarred,
every step forward painfully hard.
But we stand together, and we stand tall,
because silence helps no one at all.
And here is the hope they cannot take —
that every dawn gives strength to make
another step, another start,
another beat of a stubborn heart.
We are more than the pain they choose to ignore,
more than the ones they brush out the door.
We are voices growing stronger, clear —
and change begins the moment they hear.
Long COVID won’t define our end —
we rise, we endure, and we will mend.
And through it all, one truth stands bright —
the woman beside me in the darkest night.
My wife, whose strength has carried me through,
even while fighting her battles too.
She’s held me up when I’ve fallen low,
when my body failed and the world said no.
She’s given me courage when mine ran thin,
reminding me gently I still can win.
Her love has been anchor, shelter, guide,
a quiet power at my side.
I don’t know how I’d have made it through
without her heart, so fierce and true.
For every tear she’s wiped away,
for every burden she’s helped me weigh,
for standing firm when life turned rough —
I hope she knows she is enough.
This journey has tested all we are,
but she remains my constant star.
And though this illness tries to break,
her love is the strength I cannot fake.
To my wife — my hero, my friend —
I owe more than these words can ever send.
Through every struggle, every strife,
she is the reason I still fight for life.
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