Season's Greetings from my Covid Lair

After 3.5 years, Corona finally got me, that saucy little minx

The fact that it took me this long to get it is wild, I know, and I was pretty convinced at this point that I was one of those people who wasn’t gonna.

It didn’t make any sense otherwise. My kids had had it two separate times. Kids that breathe on me, sleep in my bed, drink out of my water bottle… There was a Red Wedding-esque family super spreader event years ago that infected all but two of us, myself included and then there was that time I dated someone who had Covid and somehow didn’t get it from him even though he literally spit Covid into my mouth repeatedly. Then there were a million other times I should have gotten it and didn’t. And then this week happened. No kids home with Covid or family members with Covid. No mouth spitting from Covid-positive lovers. No Covid-positive friends…

Alas.

Alas!

I just got it from…. who knows! My body finally deciding that it was TIME!? THE JIG WAS UP!!!

And fuck me, did I GET IT. Like every single symptom GET IT. I went from feeling perfectly fine to flattened within hours. 2 Fast, 2 Furious…ly crawling on the floor to get to the bathroom sobbing behind my mask. (I’m currently typing this behind sunglasses bc my light sensitivity is so severe I’ve barely been able to take them off?)

In it’s defense, getting Covid now — while certainly shitty — is nowhere near as catastrophic as it would have been later this month when I fly Archer to Boston to drop him off at college. Or when my girls start their first days of school next week. (Next week!??) So in a way I feel grateful for the bad but not terrible timing? Even though I can’t remember ever feeling this sick?

At one point I texted my mom, belligerent from fever and sleeplessness and told her I was gonna maybe die. Because that’s how bad I felt. I started panicking about my kids becoming orphans — imagining Archer — now a legal adult — pulling a Matthew Fox a la Party of Five.

Anyway, I’m on day five-ish RN and I think — finally — I may be okay at some point. I have emerged from my bedroom to refill my own water bottle! I wrote this post which is coherent-ish as far as I can tell! I was able to drink a little coffee this morning! (Which tasted like… hot dish water…. but still!)

And the kids — thank the ‘Rona gods, are all okay, too. Because I don’t know how I would have taken care of anyone these last few days. I didn’t even have the strength to shower until yesterday. (Shout out to my mom and wives for sending food and juice to me all week. My heart.)

<3

All of this to say, if you have been cocky about your haven’t-gotten-Covid-yet superiority (and I definitely have been, let’s be clear) let me serve as a cautionary tale that it’s never too late to be humbled by this actsh.

Also, I finally watched Jury Duty and you were all very right it was perfect. All hail Ronald. What a mensch.