Covid: A patient's confession (Part 1) & a long-neglected love affair...
After getting the jabs and avoiding the virus for 3.5 years, the bug finally caught up to me. Felt lethargic for a week, then tested positive on Sep. 27. And so herewith is a diary in stages....
My first car was a Volkswagen Beetle. A ‘55 Beetle. Named Gretchen. She was a sublimely simple vehicle. She had a small oval back window and extremely temperamental windshield wipers. The flat dash panel consisted of a single dial —a speedometer. Gretchen could only hit 60 miles an hour with a tailwind and a slight downhill grade. Otherwise, she puttered along at 55 m.p.h. No radio, no AC, and almost no heat. No gas gauge, but there was a toggle lever underneath the dash that would release another gallon to the air-cooled engine when the main tank ran out. The suspension was non-existent. She had to be parked facing downhill in winter so I could push her to get moving, hop in, and then pop the clutch to bring the engine to life as she rolled silently downhill, a quiet ghost with a sudden cough. Not good for her clutch, I was told. It was the 60s; cars were far simpler then. At milder temperatures, I could start her with a hand-crank once the ignition switch was on. She worked! Apart from oil changes and a bit of unavoidable brake work, I did nothing to maintain her. I loved that car.
My treatment of this old car became a metaphor for my monitoring and maintenance of my own health as the decades clicked by. I did the minimum, but I kept it simple. My initial approach to Covid was to likewise to keep it simple. Do the minimum. As the gravity of the pandemic became apparent in early 2020, I took up social distancing and masking. Then when vaccines became available, I waited, then got my initial two jabs. By the time I became infected, I had had 4 jabs and was about to get my 5th in the fall, a full year after my last shot. Like a huge repair bill for Gretchen, I didn’t anticipate catching the virus. But here we are, and the way forward is cluttered with treacherous potholes.
In the grand scheme of things, I am not very sick. Or am I? Initially, I had chills, a slight temperature and a persistent cough. My appetite went away completely. It has since come back but now I can barely taste what I eat. But in terms of the seething hoard of maladies that can afflict older adults, the foregoing is weak tea indeed.
However, I cannot minimize the crippling lethargy that has crept over me. Being marginally athletic —should I say aspirationally athletic? — I am not used to having a complete lack of physical energy. Everything is an effort. Walking upstairs to get my forgotten phone is suddenly a major expedition. How long will this go on for? It has been 5 days now and already, like a caged dog, I want to break out and run free. I read accounts of those who have contracted long-term Covid; I cringe in the face of this grim prospect. I cannot fathom how to accept that this diminished lack of strength might become my permanent new normal.
I have read that maintaining a positive mindset can help facilitate recovery. I struggle to do this. The weather outside here in Southern Ontario does not help. Radiant clear skies, tee-shirt weather in the afternoons and cool nights for sleeping. Why does the best canoe-tripping weather of the year always fall in late September or early October when schedules are bursting and free time evaporates? So I look at the glorious orange, yellow and red trees as I resent the fact that now I cannot explore local canoe routes because of my infection. I don’t have the strength.
My employer, a local community college, allows me to teach online instead of trudging into campus for in-person sessions. A blessing. But even this low level of exertion is exhausting. A friend recommended that I try Paxlovid, an oral anti-viral medication. I researched the side effects, which are not trivial. Am I sick enough to go this route? As I test these options, I find that I must give myself the space for constant naps. Covid seems to vitiate the urge to work out and improve my dwindling level of fitness.
So what will the future bring? Will I be able to resume my biking to work next week? Or will I still sitting at home a month from now, wrinkling like a forgotten pantry cabbage?
Eventually, I had to trade Getchen in on a slightly newer Beetle. The thought of her being cannibalized for spare parts and junk metal haunts me still. Faithful cars deserve a better end. When will I be traded in?
To be continued…
Wow - lethargy - needing naps - stairs being problematic. I believe it is partly our age. Wishing you a sooner than later recovery from Covid. Again - thanks for sharing.