To those who come to me and tell me that Covid doesn’t exist or that it’s nothing more than a simple flu, I swear I could give them a head on the nose, in the perfect mafia style….
I’ve been stuck in bed for almost ten days now, I’ve contracted this infamous I don’t know how and I don’t know from whom, (but how, you of all people who never go out??) since my entire family is also fine.
And I, on the other hand, who when I do things I’m used to doing them properly, otherwise I’d rather not do them at all, got it delivered to me complete with all the accessories.
The odd thing about this strange virus is the ups and downs. The first few days it was a constant alternation between feeling better and suddenly getting worse. Then the collapse.
I have delirious fevers, sometimes I can barely move my eyes. Coughing rips through my ribcage, an internal fire that seems to liquefy all my organs. I sweat cold. I measure my fever, I must have a temperature of 40…no, 36.7. Give me another thermometer, these are broken, please.
But let’s go in order. After two days of unequivocal symptoms I go for a tampon at the nearest drive in. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure yet, those two kilometer-long Q-tips are introduced in a rotary motion into the nostrils, up and even higher, so much so that it looks like they have to be retrieved from the eyes.
I wonder with all the technology we have, is it possible there isn’t a less invasive method? I don’t know…a spit on a slide, a lick on the screen of something…?
The nurse politely instructs us to leave and wait half an hour for the result. If there should be “something” we call you first and you come with the car to get the response, otherwise if within half an hour you do not hear from us, you walk back.
The phone rings three times, “sorry I’m calling to see if you have availability of a toy poodle…” Grrr.
At the 27th minute, my husband invites me to come down, since if they haven’t called until now….
I take five steps and the phone rings again. At this point let’s hope it’s for another dog
Fuck…
I’m not the fearful type, but I am afraid of one thing. No one was seen or heard here. The ASL (local health company) egregiously fugitive, they should have called at least 2 times a day.
Never received a call from them, my primary care doctor treats me by phone, with antibiotics and cortisone, now that it has gotten worse.
I keep pulled the fine line between home care and hospitalization, and that little thing bought online for pennies that determines if I have enough oxygen in my blood.
I don’t think it has to work that way.
In these endless days I’ve counted all the beams and joists and slats of my roof (don’t worry, they’re equal), watched the window turn red at dawn and then again at dusk, the birds flutter and I’ve shaped all the clouds that have passed by. At night I counted the stars but then the bad weather came and swallowed those too, along with the lights of the towns around the lake.
I made smiles while biting slices of cheese, and contemplated contentedly at my hands deciding that this forced inactivity had rejuvenated them. I tried to give an explanation to the bare tree branches swinging beyond the glass. Some have alternating branches, others specular. Of course, I was careful not to ask for it, otherwise no one would have taken the hospitalization away from me.
I have to be honest though, I get scared at night. The symptoms seemed to amplify and so, just as my grandmother did when she was at the end of her days, I left the light on. She knew that the Lady in Black would come for her in the dark of darkness, so she thought she would fool her this way. Or maybe she just wanted to see her face, the bitch, who knows?
My little dogs are here, hardly they get away from me even to eat and they staring at me with a questioning look.
I am infinitely fortunate that my family is taking care of them, including the puppies, who are giving them a lot to do. And they are taking care of the house, which if not cleaned up every day looks like a bomb that has been dropped. And I thank my mom who helps us with meals. I miss hugs and physical contact and this talking to each other at a distance with masks even in the house seems really crazy. But that’s how it is and it will pass. I’m sure of it.
I hope to get back to answering the many calls and emails that are coming in as well, but not the overly persistent ones, which unfortunately never fail.
The phone rang six times yesterday with the same number. On the sixth call I text “Sorry, can’t answer, I’m in bed sick”.
“I’m sorry,” replies the lady, surely a woman, given the insistence, I thought.
Well, lovely…
After not even a minute she continues
“Excuse me, do you have any availability of a toy poodle?”
Stop. I give up And since she didn’t like my surrender, she thought it best to call back.
For the 7th time.
Help!
