On February 11, I didn't feel well. It wasn't surprising. My husband had been sick a few days before. I'd tested him for Covid, but no, that wasn't it.
Then my older sister, whom I care for, was horribly sick over the 9th and 10. But she had syptoms more of a stomach disorder than Covid. I kept cleaning her up and soldiering on. So I wasn't surprised on the 11th that I was so tired and muscles were aching.
But by mid-morning of the 12th, I knew I was really sick, with something very bad. I did a covid test and within minutes I had two very dark stripes in the little window. Despite masking and hand washing and avoiding crowds, despite multiple boosters, I had Covid. And it was fully as painful and debilitating as I had heard. All I wanted to do was stay in bed, use box after box of Kleenex and pity myself.
But I couldn't. No matter how sick you are, your animals need to be fed. And in my case, that also means my sister needed food cooked and laundry done and garbage emptied and bed stripped and made up clean every day. All the tasks that come with caring ffor someone who can no longer take care of herself.
(Well, surely someone else could do all that. )
No. Not unless I wanted to expose them to this awful stuff. My husband, still sick, was doing what he could. Between the two of us, somehow we got by. Chickens were fed, laundry was accomplished, and some very marginal and uninspired meals were served. My younger son came by and refused to leave. He cleaned, he cooked, he tidied. And somehow, he has avoided getting sick (so far.) Daughters called to check on us and wondered if we needed more groceries. A niece dropped off adult diapers and waterproof bed pads for my sister (the truly crucial supplies!) So while Fred and I were handling it mostly on our own, we did have people who would have called an ambulance for us if it really got bad. I am aware that there are many other people who have faced Covid with fewer resources and no support. I lay on my bed and tried to imagine what it would have been like if I were living in a tent in an empty lot somewhere. Counting my blessings even when things are pretty dark.
So. Here we are on the 19th, a full week later. Fred is still achey but functional. I am coughing, sneezing, congested and miserable but also functional. Don't underestimate the muscle pain from this disease. There is no comfortable way to sit, stand or lie down. Everything hurts. And the brain fog is very real. I was very irritated with my son as he had apparently taken my mop bucket and mop. When I found it, I was puzzled as to how it got in the utility room. A day later, I recalled that I had used it to mop the floor in an effort to disinfect the kitchen. It's really unnerving to have my brain skip a beat like that.
So. I feel better than I did at my worst. But I am not over this. At any time, I could fall on my face and sleep. When I am not too hot, I am chilled.
This message is to remind people that yes, the 'pandemic' is over because, like influenza or the common cold, Covid is now endemic. That's forever, my friend.
To everyone who is certain it's not a big deal, I just want to say, it is to me. I'm in the demographic of people who can die from this stuff.
I hope you don't get it.