Mexico City (AFP)

Edith still has in her nostrils a small tube connected to oxygen. Despite her diabetes, overweight and high blood pressure, this Mexican woman survived Covid-19.

At 51, she will soon join the cohort of nearly 170,000 people currently recovering in Mexico, according to an official estimate.

Against her will, Edith Aguilar was admitted on July 1 to intensive care at the Juarez hospital in Mexico City.

Because like many in Mexico, she had believed false rumors circulating in the country, according to which the hospitals "finished" the patients affected by the new coronavirus.

Her brother and son were therefore forced to "force" her to the hospital when the lack of oxygen prevented her from speaking.

"I was afraid that I would be killed," admits Edith, who lives on income from a small grocery store.

Now reassured, she is now thinking of a "tequilazo" - a shot of tequila - when she will soon celebrate the reunion with her family.

In the meantime, like many patients, she is playing a Mexican version of the lottery, a very popular game among convalescents.

"I'm not close to winning," said the easy-smiling woman, her eyes riveted on the board of Mexico's most popular game of chance.

Others were less fortunate than her. At this stage of the epidemic, more than 35,000 people have died from Covid-19 in this country of 127 million inhabitants, where nearly 300,000 cases of contamination have been officially confirmed.

- "Dark corner" -

Still completely turned over, Edith is slowly recovering from the few days spent in isolation in "this dark corner of the hospital where no one wishes to enter".

There, some victims of the pandemic suffer from hallucinations, partly due to poor oxygenation, she says.

To reduce the cases of patients plagued by these delusions and who end up withdrawing their catheters, the doctor in charge of these patients, in collaboration with psychologists, tries to create a playful atmosphere.

On a table, next to a man on a respirator, is placed a mental agility exercise book and colored pencils.

In the background, the hum of the devices mixes with local popular music coming from a tape recorder placed near the beds.

"Being here is like being crazy. We don't see anyone, we're alone, we don't know if it's daylight, we don't know the date. It's very stressful," says José Iván Lizcano, a hairdresser 29 years old.

It was only recently that he was able to get rid of the oxygen hose he had in his nose. He will soon move to the convalescent sector where Edith is located.

- "I'm going out soon" -

There at least there is light. The lighting is powerful enough to allow patients to better distinguish doctors and nurses.

Some patients have pasted their photographed portrait on their chest so that they can be recognized by medical personnel.

Identification is sometimes complicated between disposable coveralls, fogged up goggles, masks and caps.

Here fear has given way to the happy impatience of the convalescents to finally leave the hospital.

"I'm going out soon. And to celebrate, nothing better than a tequila," enthuses Edith while playing the lottery with her two roommates.

"I need to let off some steam," she says, trying to imagine what her life will be like after the illness.

Before her, Petra Romero, 67, the most shy of the group, will go home. In a few minutes, she must remove the rough cloth jumpsuit she is wearing in order to put on the clothes she wore when she arrived ten days earlier.

Under the applause, she will cross the central aisle on a stretcher on rollers, as is the custom every time a cured patient leaves the hospital.

© 2020 AFP