So What if it’s Covid
I’ve been sick for almost two weeks. No fever, no respiratory symptoms, just aching from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet, extreme fatigue, a head that feels like a balloon on a stick, and, most curious, a numb face. My kids want me to get tested for Covid, but so what if it is? There’s nothing that can be done about it. I’ve self-isolated for over two weeks. I stayed away from all family Thanksgiving get-togethers, except for the Zoom call. Is having a diagnosis going to make me feel better? If it would, I’d be out the door in a flash, but it won’t.
My grown children are humoring me about not going out, but they are all ganging up on me. My son makes snide remarks about my medical degree. My daughter-in-law “checks in” on me and says I should probably call my doctor. (I tried; the office is closed for the holidays.) My daughter came up with the winning argument: I am a part of the study group for the Moderna vaccine, and they would want to know that I’m sick.
She’s right, so I go looking for the paperwork and the number to call. Do you think I can find it? Of course not. I go right to where I last saw the folder, and it’s not there. Where could it have gone? Who could have moved it? Then I remember that my husband tiled the floor in there a few weeks ago. I ask him if he moved the Covid folder. He immediately becomes defensive, saying he threw nothing out. He gives a cursory glance around the room, doesn’t see it, says, “I don’t know where it is,” and goes back to his football game.
Now I’m feeling lousy, frustrated, and stupid. This is an important folder with all sorts of information, and I lost it, like some irresponsible dim-wit with no sense of organization. I’m organized, in a sort of disorganized way. I don’t put things in file folders or drawers, necessarily, but I throw them in the den out in the open where I can find them again. Then, yes, they may get buried under other things I throw in there, but I can sort through easily enough to find them. It’s not like the den is a black hole from which nothing escapes. That folder HAS to be in there somewhere. So I go back a while later and look around, hoping it has suddenly appeared while I was gone. My husband comes back as I’m pulling out drawers, and says, “I wouldn’t have put it in a drawer.” Okay, give me a hint. Where WOULD you have put it? He insists that if he took it off the chair, he would have put it back. I look again. Nope. Still not there.
So now it’s late at night. He’s gone to bed, saying, “We’ll find it in the morning.” I have no clue where we’re going to look, so he’s far more hopeful than I am. And I know my kids will be checking on me again tomorrow, despite the fact that tomorrow is Saturday. This couldn’t wait until Monday? They don’t understand. I’ve been sick for almost two weeks. There is nothing a doctor or the study people can do to make me feel better. Feeling irresponsible and stupid hasn’t make me feel any better. Getting tested won’t make the aches and pains go away or make my head feel better. Is it Covid? Who cares? Just let me curl up with hot chocolate and a movie, so I can forget for a little while how lousy I feel. That will make me feel better for now.