Coronation

So, I’m 99% sure that I have the dreaded Covid 19. A week ago today, (Sunday 3/22/20), I woke up feeling sick with a fever. Not terribly sick, just yucky. My sponsor turned alarmist and overreacted so badly that I really had to measure my words when drafting my text responses to the succession of orders she barked at me. I did as she asked, to what I felt was a reasonable point, and then gently drew my line in the sand and thanked her for loving me so much. I was scheduled to work a full shift the following day, so I texted my boss to let her know I wouldn’t be there.

At that point I didn’t really know if I had the dreaded plague or just some run-of-the-mill bug, but I secretly hoped that this was it. My philosophy all along has been that the best defense is to develop antibodies the old fashioned way. If it killed me, I would accept my fate without resistance. I have no problem complying with the timeline I’ve been allotted. I had (still have) a feeling that this isn’t how I will meet my end, so I wasn’t worried. The data was still meager but it wasn’t claiming lives at a civilization-ending rate and my symptoms were quite mild compared to other sicks I’ve suffered. Nevertheless, it had become obvious to me well before then that this was a case of closing the barn door after the horses already got out. It was impossible to know just how many of us had been infected and it was likely it was more than anyone cared to admit. It was naïve to assume any of us hadn’t already been exposed weeks before anyone suggested social distancing, and after all, this was the main virus that was “going around.”       

That night my sleep wasn’t great. I was sweaty and achy, as one expects when sick with a flu. The following day I “met” with my GP via remote video, as my sponsor had demanded. He told me I didn’t have it. Quelle surprise. I had just bought a bunch of oranges a few days prior, and I set about devouring their sweet juicy sunshine with regularity. I had some Echinacea and elderberry tea with raw honey here and there, and I rested. I prepared myself for the possibility of it getting far worse, but it didn’t. The fever only lasted 24 hours and I had developed some minor nasal congestion, but it didn’t stop up my nostrils and I wasn’t coughing or sneezing at all. I was 100% honest about my status when my boss checked to see if I’d be in that Wednesday, and she told me I was welcome to return as scheduled. And I did. And then I worked another 6 hours on Friday.

I started to question my initial suspicion regarding the big bug. Other than a fever, which was short-lived, I didn’t have any of the coughing or chest congestion that was reported to be so severe for so many. I was tired, yes, but when wasn’t I tired? It was easy to rest with the whole world on hold, so I slept and watched TV and didn’t do much of anything. The cats seemed to enjoy using me as furniture. I spent ridiculous amounts of time window shopping online, flagging my favorites and waiting for the economy to tank so I could scoop them up super cheap. I was sick with whatever this may be, so I just needed to be good to myself and let my body do its thing.

Then I discovered a new symptom. On my way to work that morning, as is so often my custom, I stopped at McDonald's and grabbed some breakfast on my way downtown. I frowned when I bit into the hash browns because they weren’t as tasty as they usually are. Oh well. Cheap food. I forgot all about it. It wasn’t until later that evening while eating lemon pepper chicken with mashed potatoes that I realized I couldn’t taste anything. Son of a bitch. This new symptom had just shown up in the news, but I didn’t think much of it because there was (is) so much misinformation that it a lot of it just isn’t credible. I had been regularly checking the news in France and Spain to compare it against what we were hearing here, and while many things took a good long time to cross the ocean for American ears, this wasn’t one of them. I decided it had to be my swollen nasal passages, so I ate rice and egg noodles and scrambled eggs, and I drank lots of ice water, saving the good stuff for the day I could enjoy it. I noted that, even though I couldn’t actually taste anything, I could still somehow detect salt and sugar and stale mouth due to teeth that need brushing. I tried snorting and blowing every which way to clean out my nasal passages enough to maybe just barely taste a little hint of something, but no luck. My oranges had lost their appeal. (a-peel, lol?) But I continued to keep calm and just take it easy. I watched and I waited.  

There’s more. Diarrhea, previously an occasional but not uncommon annoyance of my everyday life, has now become persistent. It’s been going on for at least 4 days now. Is it my diet? Is it the virus? Something else? I’m not running for the bathroom or anything, but just when I woke up this morning it had turned yellow and this afternoon I had some light abdominal cramping. It’s a little unnerving.

So I don’t know, I think I probably do indeed have *it* but that doesn’t change anything. The tests are still too scarce to waste on a nobody like me and there’s no proven treatment available yet. I feel a little guilty for having gone to work but the doctor cleared me and I can’t expect them to let me skip shifts on suspicion. Besides, like I said before, I think a lot of us have already been exposed. I do worry about infecting my parents if I go for an Easter visit. I’m sure if anyone is still safe it’s those folks down in Mayberry. I’ll keep resting and observing until then. I just had some more tea and I’ve got a perpetual cup of ice water within reach. If I die, please look after the cats.