Intermittently Awful…Marginally Terrible

The signs were there earlier in the week. I had a low-grade fever of 99.3 last Sunday and felt pretty run down, but the fever went away by late afternoon. Then on Wednesday I started having body aches, chills, and my head felt like it was on fire. I took some pain reliever, laid on some ice packs and I felt better. I was marking it up to a bug my wife had just a couple weeks before and stress from work. You know, the usual.

But all day Friday while I was at work I felt like someone had beaten me with a ball bat. Hips, back, arms, and even my shoulders just ached in a really painful way. Ibuprofen barely took the edge off.

I started having deja vu.

So after work I went home thinking I’d pick up the house a little bit then chill out and watch a movie. As I stood in the kitchen that deja vu feeling came back, so I instinctively reached up into the medicine cabinet and pulled out the last of our Biden Administration-approved Covid-19 Rapid Antigen tests, at which point I then proceeded to tickle my frontal lobe with the sterilized swab. After mixing the nasal concoction with the Covid test juice and put my 4 drops onto the test strip it wasn’t more than 30 seconds before I saw two lines pop up on that baby.

I’ve got a Covid bun in the oven.

This is the absolute worst time for me to be off work. My co-pilot is out on medical leave dealing with something much more serious than Covid, so I’m the only one covering our area. My back-up at work is minimal, and they’re not at work half the time to actually be reliable. So the idea of being gone for three days(I can return to work Thursday if my symptoms cease) would normally make my anxiety fly through the roof, but this Covid is really kicking my ass so I could care a less about work right now.

I had Covid once before, way back in November of 2020 BV(Before Vaccine). It was quite the ordeal as the whole house was sick with it. It was two weeks over Thanksgiving break of couch lounging, binge-streaming, and windows blacked out as if we were vampires. The symptoms then started out like a hell of a cold; spiking fever, head/chest congestion, and body aches. It gradually morphed into just exhaustion and body aches, which last well into December of that year. I hoped that I wouldn’t be dealing with the big C-19 again, but the universe said “Nope.”

As Friday night progressed I began feeling worse and worse with body aches, chills, heavy in my chest, and impacted sinuses. I told my wife I’d lay on the couch, so I set up camp there, read for a bit, and then tried to sleep. I could not fall asleep; between the battle between what helps more -hot or cold- my lack of breathing power through my nose, and just the general malaise that comes with Covid-19 I kept tossing and turning. I got up and laid in my chair, doomscrolled on my phone(read the great Lance Reddick died at 2:15am), and finally found a couple winks between 2:30am and 4:30am.

Saturday morning was pretty rough. Those body aches will knock your socks off. I’m pretty sensitive to fevers. If my temp is over 99.0 or higher I’m just miserable. I know there’s some people that can run a 99 or 100 fever and not even realize it, but that’s not me. My normal temp is 97-something. So after watching a movie I got up and took some Ibuprofen. Within an hour I was feeling better, so I decided to make myself an omelette and scramble an egg for the pooch. We ate in peace binging a series on Amazon Prime. My wife went to our son’s Percussion and Ensemble competition, so since I was feeling reasonably okay I paid the bills and got a load of laundry going. Wasn’t much, but it felt a little like normalcy.

I was hoping the symptoms wouldn’t be as severe as the first time around, and I guess so far that’s true. I had the OG Covid-19. Where are we at now? Omimcron Delta Jackhammer? Optimus Prime Variant? I don’t know, I just figured by now Covid would just feel like a minor cold, or maybe just 24 hours of loose stool or something. I can tell you that’s not the case. This shit still hurts. When it kicks in I feel like I went through some gang initiation where the whole crew beats you with a bat for 30 seconds, then you’re an honorary member of the Devil’s Churls.

Part of me feels like an idiot for getting this crap again. Like after three years we should all know how to avoid getting Covid. The best way is to be a hermit and don’t be near people. Since I don’t have the luxury of running a remote-controlled forklift from my couch working from home isn’t an option. And I could order my groceries online, but I’m too particular about my groceries. I need to see them prior to dropping in my cart and running them through the self-checkout. I don’t even like other family members to buy our groceries, why would I want some aggravated teen to do it for me. And we’re also in the midst of percussion ensemble season, so nearly every Saturday we’re driving 2 1/2 hours to a strange high school and watching 30 to 45 minutes of competition with a crowd of onlookers. Lots of mouth breathing, hooting and hollering, and what not.

So, I’m basically playing Covid Russian Roulette six days a week. Add to that my wife and daughter flying out to New York for three days and flying back, and you’ve got yourself some solid sickness probabilities.

Early on in the morning I sent a message to my friend John. John runs Karma Records here in my hometown. His place has been my main source of music for over ten years now. My wife had already told me to just stay home and rest on Saturday, as opposed to going to the competition as I was feeling like I was coming down with something anyways. So I’d planned on going to Karma at some point and picking up the Stranger Things Season 4 scores, both volumes 1 and 2, and maybe perusing with a mask on since they were having a big 10% off sale storewide. I don’t get into the store like I used to, so having an afternoon of doing that sounded kind of nice.

Well, after Friday afternoon’s big reveal I let John know I wouldn’t be in for obvious reasons. He texted back and said he was really sorry and to take care of myself. Not long after that he asked if I still lived at the same address, which I said I did. Not more than an hour later he texted again and said he left a package on the front porch. It was the ST volumes, plus a copy of the film Suburbicon which we’d talked about. He left a note saying pay for the albums next time you’re in the store.

I bet your local record store owner isn’t as great as mine. Just stating facts.

My 19 almost 20-year old texted late Saturday night that she was going to stop by and pick up some allergy pills we had for her as she was running out. I asked her if she wanted us to put them in the mailbox so she didn’t have to come into the ‘house of horrors’ and she said no that she had some stuff for me. When she arrived she gave me a get well balloon, some flowers, some lemon poppyseed muffins, and my favorite Peanut M&Ms. It was thoughtful, kind, and it meant a lot. I was glad I was able to stay awake long enough to see her, as the Nyquil was kicking in pretty good.

I slept in our bed last night. My wife wasn’t ready for bed so she stayed up and doomscrolled and let me get some rest. I woke up at 3:30 am with my teeth chattering, coming out of some crazy dream that involved an abandoned elementary school, a UFO, and a hole that literally went to the other side of the earth. It wasn’t a nightmare, but it wasn’t what I’d call a “nice dream”, either. I got up sore as hell knowing the fever had returned, so I went out to the living room, still lit up from the lamp. My wife was asleep on the couch, phone under her chin. I took the phone, turned off the light, and went to the kitchen took some more pain reliever/fever reducer, as well as some Robitussin for the tight cough and tight chest.

Found an extra blanket and threw it on top of the comforter and laid back down. Woke up an hour later drenched in sweat. At least the fever broke, I thought, and flipped my pillow and went back to sleep. I ended up sleeping until 9:20 am, which is pretty late for me. I took a shower, got dressed, and picked up the bedroom. My son and wife are both still asleep, which is fine with me. Not like I had plans today.

Maybe the universe is telling me I need to slow down and take a breather. Work has been nonstop and extremely busy. It’s taking its toll on my body as my back and shoulders and knees are hurting from all the heavy lifting. I lift smart, but even lifting smart is still lifting. Some muscle, tendon, and joint are getting the short end of the stick. Instead of taking fun vacation time I get to save my vacation time and stay home for a few days feeling like shit. But at least I’m not getting overworked at the plant.

I’m going to look on the bright side and see this as some rebooting time. Lots of rest, writing, movie watching, and cuddling with our miniature schnauzer Otto. I can still be productive with writing while sitting on the couch, heating pad behind me keeping me warm. Maybe I can even do some painting. It just depends on whether today is the last “rough” day with Covid. We shall see.

I’m also extremely grateful to have such thoughtful and amazing family and friends who go out of their way to make sure I’m taken care of; be it my lovely wife coming home with subs and pizza(and Twizzlers) for us to enjoy last night, my best pal offering to drop off groceries, my other great friend making sure I’ve got tunes and movies to enjoy, my daughter showing kindness with flowers and a hug despite my Covid state, and of course my dog Otto for making sure I never get lonely, no matter where I’m sitting.

Okay, I’ll see you next time. Oh and remember, 6 feet between us please.