Anyone who's caught covid knows that this blog post title is overly ambitious. There will be no daily journaling.
I have only been able to get out of bed the last few days since testing positive for the first time last Saturday, and as you can see from the test on the right, the fricking virus will not let go of me. Symptoms started Thursday last, which makes today day 8, and according to this SCIENCE-BASED video, day 9 is when one should (perhaps) be able to safely unmask again. I won't be unmasking until my T line is invisible again.
I'm living in our bedroom while M has the run of the rest of the house, only coming downstairs to get food, masked of course, with bottles of Purell on every floor. Knock wood, he hasn't gotten it so far.
I didn't want Covid in me except in vaccine-sized doses. But did I stop wearing a mask the last few months, living in Canada, where cases were super low? I did. Should I have started masking again when I heard case counts were rising again? Well, duh. I run anxious most days, so it's not surprising that my heart is racing as I suddenly realize the thing I've run from for four years caught me because I let it. And then I hear from our 20-something niece and nephew that they've been unmasked since 2021, travelled on planes, and still haven't gotten it.
I can't make light of this thing that I'm surviving thanks to the efforts of countless people who developed and distributed vaccines and treatments, masks and education; to the efforts of those who got sick and STAYED HOME to protect others. Because so many died of this, and are still dying of Covid. Just because my case has been manageable with pharmacy meds (and yes, I was able to get Paxlovid as a 61-year-old person in Canada – at no cost even) doesn't lessen the scary risk Covid is to so many people. I have no idea if any of my internal systems have been affected by the virus and I may never know, if I'm lucky.
I hear people talking about Covid as if it's the flu, and that they're gonna get it annually and that's just fine with them. I hear others talking about cumulative damage to internal body systems and I get terrified. My sister's had it twice and now is dealing with lung issues she never had before Covid. I am not taking this lightly.
I can't get over the (there is no other word) disconnect I felt between knowing these things and just living my life for the last week. This thing I've washed off my hands countless times since 2020 was now inside my body, on my pillowcase, lining the walls of my fresh, new CPAP supplies. Excellent timing, that. And yet I'm watching tv, sleeping, and not feeling too bad – beyond fatigue – once I learned that Aleve would take care of the unbearable body aches I felt the first two days. Oh, and the trench mouth. Did Paxlovid cause that? So gross.
So today I walked my dog away from other people, came home and am just done for the day. There's still Covid in me, and I'm really mad about it. Yes, I will be re-masking in public settings again. I will go back to what I had been doing for the last year, which is staying masked everywhere unless I'm eating, or I'm outside. I hate it, but I hate Covid more, and I do not want to see what other crap it might have in store for me if it gets me a second time.
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