It was Omicron Prime knocking at the door in January 2022, barging into our home and sitting on the couch without a by-your-leave. I was down and out for a week, eating (a little) and sleeping (a lot) and visiting the bathroom, and nothing else. Back then, I suspected it was Covid because when I first got sick, I had a dream of flashing lights and sirens and a warning: This is not a drill. Back then, before the PCR test results confirmed it, I knew it was Covid because of the fever; when it broke after 3 days, I started turning the corner, energy wise. It would be another month before I got my stamina reasonably back, but that starts us down another path, which I will save for later.
In the Omicron Era, you would think the descendants would have learned better manners by now, but Nope! One of Omicron’s brats (Eris, maybe?) barged into our home just like its Progenitor did, and made itself comfortable, sacking out on the couch, eating all of the chips and controlling the remote. This time, Himself was the principal object of viral affection. He had managed to sidestep Omicron Prime, but the brat variant let him have it with both barrels.
I was not spared, though. I muttered dark imprecations under my breath as soon as I felt the tickle in my throat. Two days after Himself tested positive, I tested positive as well. Before my viral load peaked, I managed to mask up and get necessary errands done. Once I had the double line, it was time to hunker down with Himself and the cats and wait it out.
I must admit I had a chuckle over learning this (likely) variant is called “Eris,” the Greek goddess known for throwing the Golden Apple of Discord into a party She had not been invited to, which eventually led to the Trojan War. Covid has been one hell of an Apple, O Divine One! (Side note: the first thing that came to mind when I saw the initial images of the virus was Les Fleurs du Mal! I tip my hat in Baudelaire’s direction…)
Anyway, being a cancer survivor, Himself fought Covid tooth and nail. Viz:
Since this was my second go-round and his first, we compared notes. He had more coughing jags in the beginning, but I caught up to him before we cleared our viral loads. I slept way more last year than I did this year, and he’s been sleeping a lot. Neither of us had much of an appetite. Both of us had low-grade fevers, but I think mine was lower this time. I got that weird feeling hot and cold at the same time sensation while I was feverish, same as before. (Ibuprofen was my BFF for a few days.) I talked him down off the cliff a few times when his mind went sideways and he got convinced that he was at Death’s door. (His oxygen levels were just fine, thank you.) The cats continued to ignore him, but glued themselves to the bed during our convalescence - What is this “isolation” you speak of? We don’t understand big words. ;-)
Some key differences I experienced this time:
My sniffer was briefly knocked offline entirely. When the bottle of white vinegar didn’t smell at all, I knew something was amiss. As my nose came back online (which it did, praise the Goddess!), the smell of Burning Plastic overwhelmed a few things, especially the Orange sauce that comes with the Orange Chicken pouches Himself likes to buy. Now it’s back to smellng normally, which is good, because I really have a hard time eating anything that smells like burning plastic. (For the record, he eats the chicken without the sauce, and I use the sauce for dippping. #VegLife)
My brain took a bit longer to reboot this time around. I took to YouTube when I wasn’t sleeping and indulged in tons of visual content, everything from tribal dances to gay romances, with the all but obligatory viewing of cat videos. As I am a cat person, that’s to the good! I also made notes on books I need to acquire and read, if not in one sitting, then over a long weekend.
Speaking of my brain, it’s not wanting to “shut off” at night, which has lead to some pesky insomnia. Good news, I have a consult for a sleep study early next week. Originally it was to see if Sleep Apnea was contributing to some of my fatigue issues; now it looks like it will be looking at all the sleep things that are out of whack. Between that and the Functional Medicine consult, I might be getting a few concrete answers about WTAF is actually going on, which would be nicer than educated guesswork.
Though September is pretty well a wash at this point, there’s always October to look forward to, which I do every year, as I am very biased. After all, it’s my natal month!
Ughhhhhhhhh. Feel better!
Why isn’t there a *shakes fist* emoji yet?! That’s how I feel when a fellow hauler gets hit with the evil shit bug again. I hope you will not get more or worse LC symptoms. Did you take Paxlovid as well? And how’s your partner doing?