COVID+
It was inevitable.
Masks. Social distancing. Avoiding crowded indoor spaces. Minimizing contact with “high risk” friends. At some point it was going to happen.
I finally tested positive for COVID.
It started on a Sunday. The hangover was just a little stronger than expected. It was hot and I was tired and that added touch of indolence kept me home-bound. That evening I went for a ride in the park. Every crank of the peddle was a struggle for energy. Throughout, I had a nauseous churn. Foolishly, I challenged someone on the final hill and was quickly put in my place. The COVID test that evening was negative but I knew something wasn’t right.
Monday morning, I was up before my alarm clock with body aches. There would be no work. The return to sleep became the priority.
I’ve had these aches and pains in the past. Just last month, I remember feeling particularly out of it, thinking “surely, this is what COVID feels right.” COVID tests continuously proved me wrong, so much so that I began to doubt their effectiveness.
Later that Monday morning, finally awake and on the couch, I took another test. The fluid traveled up, slowly darkening the pink strip. The first line appeared. Wait… what? It appeared so quickly I initially thought it was the control strip. That was it though. COVID positive.
Lori was napping. She was feeling run down as well. She woke up and I showed her my test. Within five minutes, she also tested positive.
That first day, I slept. A lot. Two naps(?). Body aches. Subtle nausea. I slipped away to the grocery store with all apologies to essential workers. With my mask on and my mouth shut, I picked up soup, fruit, and a few additional provisions for the week ahead.
By Monday night, the nasal congestion set in. My nostrils became an impenetrable wall of mucus relieved only by Benzedrex and Mucinex. The relief came in the form of a dryness that felt an insult away from bleeding.
Tuesday. More naps. Enough cognitive awareness to take care of some work. Confusion, yes, but nothing beyond what normally accompanies illness. I slipped over to the Urgent Care for a lab-verified COVID test. At the risk of infecting others, I succumbed to the Sinai bureaucratic sick-pay system. Being sick puts me in a bad mood. The team at CityMD quickly became aware. Thankfully this saved us from any small talk.
Wednesday. More naps coupled with more energy. More work. Reading. A tickle of a cough grew as the other symptoms dissipated. Raspy voiced but no shortness of breath. I got on my bike that evening as I had done the evening before. A light 45 minute ride. Exercise always helps clear out the system.
By Thursday I was close to normal. I didn’t let that interfere with my nap schedule however. Reading. Work. Lingering fatigue. A hint of an ache. Reduced surliness. My sister mentioned that COVID always has one last kick.
Friday, that last kick. A little more fatigue. Scratchy throat. Deep productive cough. I could work from home though. Being at work may have been a bit strong. It was the last day of symptoms.
So… how did you get it? Excellent question! I don’t know! It was either: 1) a patient who appears to be allergic to masks. He came in for a sick visit and my attempts at translating “wear your mask” into Mandarin fell on deaf ears. 2) Friday night pizza. We ate indoors. Lori was over the heat and said “I’m OK with it.” I didn’t want to quibble. 3) Sitting next to a college kid on the train to Long Beach. He was maskless. I can still see him yawning while looking innocently at me.
Eitherway, it’s come and gone. It was inevitable at some point. It sucked. I wouldn’t want it again. Here’s to more vaccines.
Lori and I celebrated recovery on the roof of the MET. It felt good to be back in the City again.