joeyfullystated

It’s a month today since I fell ill. I still ache a lot from the waist up. Hot baths and Tylenol go a long way in reducing the suck that is the ache I cannot shake. I still need a lot of sleep. I’m working at work, (thank tacos) and working almost full-time now. I text my boss a bit ago, letting her know I want to continue working shorter days. Everyone in my little world is now recovering, recovered, or luckiest — asymptomatic. We wonder if now we’re immune, and more importantly, if we’re still infectious. Apparently it will be a long time until we can all have antibody testing and who knows how long until we know we can’t make other people sick?

For a change, I experience lower anxiety than the general public.

sadie lady

Some people aren’t convinced I had the plague which began to upset me, because, the only way I can explain it is to say I knew. I knew like I knew he was the one I would marry, like I knew I was pregnant, like I knew that was my dog, and this is my house. A knowing. A very woo-woo knowing. I had never felt like that. It hit different.

When the night came and coughing hurt and breathing burned and I was afraid to go to sleep for fear I wouldn’t make it through the night… When the worst had passed and I got winded making tea, or walking to the bathroom… When my temp stayed right around 100 for thirteen days… When I felt better and then worse, over and over…

Last Saturday, I wasn’t tired. I baked and cooked and had sex. And then Sunday I didn’t move from the bed. Monday I went to work for six hours and Tuesday I spent the day in bed. I’m pretty much at work or in bed.

banana bread

While Moo has accused me of doing too much too soon and I balk at her, she may be right. Maybe the right thing to do was to lie down for a month, but I can’t fathom it and no medical professional told me to.

I don’t have proof it’s the plague. (which i know is not a plague because it’s viral and not bacterial, but i’m not naming the bastard — like a demon, like the orange-faced fucktard)
However, despite my lack of proof, you should prolly tuck my story into the notes section of your brain and remember it in case you find yourself in a similar position. Sick without proof. You might be as lucky as I. Cause I sure am lucky.

clara belle

The scary part is not knowing how sick you’ll get. That’s scary. We’re talking about something that spans anywhere from you could already have it and not even feel unwell, to something that can give you one to nine symptoms for an unknown amount of time, send you to the hospital, or take your life. The spectrum is terrifying.

We don’t wear masks around one another at home, in our office, to drive, to walk the dog, or to sit on our patio, but we do when we will be around others. I own a lot of scarves.

people love this photo, cause filtered af

If I have to open a door to UPS or visit the post office, I pull my scarf up and give people distance. To do so is good manners. Good manners, lest we forget, are to make other people feel more comfortable. Good manners absolutely require giving a fuck and yet, do not include yelling at other people about it.

People who do not give a fuck should perhaps take this time to gather together and enjoy recently opened beaches.

Everything seems to start that way.

Day THIRTEEN, I am still not well. I continue to recover. Notable improvement continues. My head is heavy, I ache, I get winded easily, and I am tired. I had a few better days this week, followed by a substantially worse day, then back to feeling better again.

You maybe don’t know me or don’t read me for seven years, but I get sick often. I also bounce back quickly, so this sick is absurd.

I spent most of the week in bed, continuing to tea and sleep. I’ve worked from home hours each day this week. Typing, phoning, clicking. I can’t work a whole day. Yet. Certainly couldn’t go to work today. Would need a nap before I got to my shoes.

Indiana’s governor has determined our workplace is essential. While my boss has graciously permitted us to work from home, I was too sick to work at all the first week, and managed about 20 hours this week — the other 20 was napping. I’m limited by what I can access from home. It would be much easier to work AT work. Not to mention my office chair is suitable for long days, whereas sitting hours in my home chair is a suitable punishment for anyone over the age of forty. At home, I don’t have to wear a bra or shoes, my hair can be boingy wild, and the phone doesn’t much ring. However, at work, I have everything I need to do all duties of my job. Working at home is frustrating.

I’m not inclined to discuss the health details of those I work with, but I’ll just write that it’s not good. Our office hasn’t been open during the bulk of our operating hours, because staff is not well enough to maintain it. Some of our staff have been to hospital where they were admitted and treated, presumptive, but not tested, or tested with pending results. That is how I know all the numbers everywhere are lies. Minimums. To one colleague who called the hotline, I said, “I should have called, too,” to which she replied, “They would’ve quaratined you and told you to fuck off and die at home,” and I said, “Oh mmhm.”

My doctor’s office told me to stay home until I am three days symptom free.

Operating under the presumption that we are plagued humans in a contaminated office, can any more harm be done? Only if our presumptions are wrong. See how it’s impossible to make informed decisions as there is no actual information? These are real problems.

The other people in my house are still fine, despite them climbing into my lap, sharing my bed, or my having lavished cootie kisses upon them. I am so glad and not jealous of them at all.

I will now share the highlights of my week:

The Mister brought me tulips.

The sun came out.

The daffodils are blooming.

We went outside and sat.

It was nice. Five stars, would recommend. If the sun ever shines again, I will do this again.

Thursday evening, the sick moved into my chest which put me at the height of my panic. Burning cough burned. Tightness right at my breastbone. I took a bath, put on clean pajamas, and made a list of my current medications, just in case. I put on vaporub … (It was not like this, as I do not have to ask The Mister if he wants to get with this!)

I slept through more than twelve hours. I woke up, hacked and coughed until gross things happened, and since then, have been feeling better. Whatever it is, cold, flu, plague – it is BAD – I’ve not been down this long in my adult life. (I can tell Moo has grown, okay?!) It’s never taken me this long to recover after surgery, let alone illness, and I am kickin it! Now I feel like I have a cold. How I feel right now feels like a cold.
My anxiety is still heightened, but it’s no longer at AAAAAAAAAAH! level. About myself anyway.

I reapplied vaporub last night and slept eleven hours. After six days in bed with cats and quilts and tea,  I’ve reentered the living room (where I will enjoy cats and quilt and tea) but first, I’m having coffee. The Mister’s coffee is really, really good today. This elixir is surely necessary to my full recovery.

I believe those of you who extended kind comments, sympathy, well wishes, and prayers do that elsewhere as well, making the world a better place. I appreciate that. For all we cannot fix, we can offer the best of ourselves.

Or as I say in real life, “Tea is liiiiiiiiife!”

I’m sick. Well of course I am.

The runny nose started Saturday night. I am a fairly snotty person and I attributed this to allergies. Overnight Saturday, my throat hurt badly enough to wake me from sleep several times. Sunday morning I lay in my bed trying to swallow the pain away, all the while noticing pressure in my ears — not quite an earache, more discomfort than pain. When I did rise, I had a terrible time moving because of body aches, and quickly noted a headache and swollen glands as well.

I took Lysine, because swollen glands for me usually mean a lip explosion is coming, and my body does that every spring.

I have been resting and sleeping. I do not have much coughing at all, nor do I have a fever. (Lingering just under or at 100.) For these reasons, I’m not worthy of a test. It doesn’t matter, as my family is certain this is not the plague and they are all FINE.

Statistics suggest I have a cold. Statistics also indicate a large number of infected persons are asymptomatic. Unfortunately, I took statistics and I have anxiety disorder, so this is just a real fun time for me.

Every time I drink tea, I feel better. I mean literally, I feel better. Every sip elicits “Ahh!” I have been consuming large quantities of herbal tea, and this morning I had some of the New Zealand Twinings with orange blossom. I feel better when I eat Dreamsicles, too, but that’s not new. Let’s heat up the kettle again, shall we?

We’re low on honey, so I got on Amazon to order some last night but it’s out of stock. You just know some greedy fucker is holed-up with cases of honey that will crystallize BUT WHATEVER!

I am still sick. However, I have experienced a significant decrease in my discomfort thanks to tea and rest.

Netflix released a show about Madam CJ Walker. It’s quite good. I watched more than I slept through.

Also, Saturday, I logged back into Twitter for the first time in 15 months and I was surprised to discover some of you have been sharing my blog links even in my absence. That’s so kind. Thank you!

I overheard people greeting one another yesterday and listening to them talk and guffaw as they shook hands reminded me of condom use in the 90s. People engaging like, “I’m okay, you’re okay!” when what they really mean is “We both appear symptom-free, so let’s share our cooties!”

The Mister’s place of business had no work today and none tomorrow, to reopen Monday after a deep scrub. This is incredibly fascinating as the market doesn’t close for four days straight, and regarding his work The Mister always says, “Greed never takes a four-day.” The market also has cooties?

Other adults in our community have been told not to come to work for x days, or to work from home.

In the course of my work this week, I have visited the bank and the post office. I sent that tube through the air channel in the drive-thru and found myself thinkin how lucky I am to not work with the public. My text messages with my mother affirmed this. She works with the public, but she doesn’t handle cash, so she counts herself fortunate as well.

The Governor of Indiana laid down some cootie-slowin edicts, and now all Marion County schools are closed until April 5. That’s every school in Indianapolis. I can’t fathom the numbers, cause our township alone is more than fifteen thousand students, and there are at least 7 other townships — I bet more — Indianapolis Public Schools, Center Township the largest… Lots of kids. Lots.

Moo’s response to four weeks off school included a joyful song and dance. However, Sassy’s at a rehearsal where the general consensus was sobbing?

Spring Break is going to suuuuuuuuuuuuck. I surmise the best we can hope for is good weather because nature doesn’t have cooties.

It’s March. March Madness has cooties. In Indiana, basketball is religion, and churches be closed. And I reckon, if one’s literal place of worship has an attendance of 250+ then er, ferreal church also be closed.

In looking at the data and listening to the informed people, I presume I will get sick and get well. I’m an optimistic person, but cooties love me anyway.

As with impending snow forecasts intended to frighten me, I don’t feel panicked. But someone out there has our share of the toilet paper. We are a family of four with only seven rolls of toilet paper and we are concerned.