I’ve been sick the past week or so. At first I was really hopeful that it wasn’t Covid. Even though my wife and kids had already tested positive. I really really hoped that now, at the tail end of this thing, I could feel like I had escaped. That I’d made it to the other side unscathed. But that was not meant to be.
I tested positive one week ago today. At first I didn’t want to believe it. But there it was, a positive test result. It was such a strange sense of relief, mixed with fear and frustration. Fear that I would get a lot more sick. Frustration at still having to worry about this stupid fucking pandemic.
Relief though, because the rest of the family had it already. So it was only a matter of time before I wound up with it. I just wanted to get it over with. Especially because my wife and kids all had super mild cases. Sick one day, seemingly fine the next.
That was not my experience though.
By Wednesday I wasn’t getting better and the congestion had moved to my chest. This made me nervous because as a child I had tuberculosis, and as a teen I had a collapsed lung. I made a doctors appointment and told them my concerns. After they verified that I did indeed have Covid they prescribed Paxlovid.
Within hours after my first dose I started feeling better. I am incredibly grateful for modern medicine. I have no doubt that without the vaccine, booster, and Paxlovid that I would almost certainly be in the hospital.
Now, 7 days out (and 4 days from my first dose of Paxlovid) I’m feeling almost completely back to normal. They way I feel now could be described as “mild allergies”.
I’m incredibly happy to be feeling better. I just cant help thinking about the early days of the pandemic though. What would I have done if I’d caught Covid early on? Would I be here to write this blog post without the medical interventions available today?
That said: I’m here, I’m fine. With any luck we’re going to be on the other side of this pandemic very very soon.