Mr Azerten tested positive for coronavirus in late November after returning from the Red Sea. Because the expedition team took strict precautions, it assumes he was infected while flying home. With a low fever, mild respiratory symptoms, and a loss of odor, he spent 10 days alone in a bedroom at home on Benbridge Island near Seattle, protecting Mrs. Azerton, aged 46, 11 and 16, and their children.
Then, on December 17, a common spam call on his cellphone turned to a cascade of paranoia linked to technology, surveillance and government agents.
“I started doing this hearing illusion,” he said. He would jump out the window at night, imagining sounds at night. Fearing that the families were spying when they saw the Christmas lights in their neighborhood, the Australian Australian shepherd of the family, Duke, would catch up and walk out “to keep an eye on the people in the car”. After that, he would make sure that the police scanners were broadcasting his dog walking and every other move he made.
“I couldn’t control myself,” he said, thinking, “I’ll lose my mind.” ”
After keeping two seemingly sleepy days with him, he trusted his wife, who was stunned. “It was just complete helplessness and fear for me that your person is great in a crisis that feels like a crisis,” he said.
He told her to put her family’s phone in airplane mode and became worried that their house was damaged. He became “worried out of his skin” about the ambulance siren, said Ms Argette, who ran around looking for him. “Probably every 30 minutes, he needed to make a round out and see what was out there.”
She took him shopping, thinking, “Something as unconscious as Konstko will help make it just a normal day,” but she said she feared the shopkeepers were plainclothes agents. “It really bothered her.”
That evening, she called a friend, a nurse with a mental health experience.
“You need to go to the emergency department right now,” the friend insisted, “lock any guns,” said Mrs. Ajerto.
