The popular saying that I was just recently introduced to is, "it's not a matter of if, but when" in terms of catching the virus. It was definitely a fear of mine, but having gone for two years without so much as a hint of a sniffle, not to mention being vaccinated and mostly isolated, I figured I had at least another year or so before Ms. Rona and I met.
Fast forward to this, my milestone birthday month...the month I decided to put my vaccination to the test (oh, the f'ing irony) because I wanted to be OUT!!; the month I come home and had the most relaxed visit to this city I've had since I moved 16 years ago... I had my biggest sales event and it wasn't even MY event, I was a guest. I had a date! A DATE!! I haven't had one of those in over 10 years!
All of that happens without any drama and then, on the last workday of my trip, I'm scheduled to meet with a potential client-past coworker, and one of my good friends. We're there to celebrate and talk "book babies".
I get up that morning and feel as if I'd done one too many tequila shots the night before. In other words, I felt like a hungover, dried-out husk. I'd had those kinds of hangovers before and immediately recognized the sore joints, dull throb of a headache, and sort of scratchy eyeballs. I attributed it to the massive amounts of migraine meds I'd been taking and the altitude. No need to worry, I knew what to do. I headed to the grocery store, bought a huge bottle of smart water and some Pedialite. Passed on the Gatorade because, well, yuck.
I came home and started hydrating. I had a few hours before lunch and just knew I would be right as rain by the time I headed out. Yeah...not so much. I made it to lunch, I gave decent conversation, even did my author's coaching thing, but I had to leave early. The act of sitting up was not agreeing with me.
I got home and sat still for a bit, and that's when the worry set in. For one thing, my heart was racing a bit. Thanks to my Fit Bit, I saw that I was well into the fat-burning range of beats per minute. That was a little disturbing seeing as how all I was doing was sitting in the living room. Fear got the best of me and I pulled out my home Covid test. All the while, I'm praying that it's just allergies, or a sinus infection, or a summer cold, or those damn migraine meds, or any freaking thing but Covid.
You see, I'd been in contact with a myriad of friends and family. Two of which are in high-risk categories - one, my 80+-year-old, cancer surviving, mother, the other with an existing immunodeficiency. This trip I'd been out and about, masked in crowded places, unmasked in intimate settings with loved ones. I did NOT want to be the reason any of these people suffered or God forbid - got sick and died.
But alas, that positive reading showed up quick and undeniable on the test strip. I immediately started calling to get an official test done, and meanwhile, I kept hydrating and waiting to feel better. Yeah, the official test came back just as positive. I sent messages to everyone along with my apologies. What do you say to people?
"Hi, I may have exposed you to the deadliest virus known to man right now. Please don't hate me, and please, please, don't get sick. Ever!"
As of the writing of this post, I have had symptoms for four days. The nurse who told me my test results explained that after five days, if I was fever-free I could once again rejoin the masses, masked of course, and preferably having no other symptoms. Aside from that, I'm to call my doctor if my symptoms worsen. With a "have a nice day", she got off the phone.
I feel okay. My nasal congestion comes and goes, I've had two, kinda gross, phlegm-inducing coughs, and my heart rate seems to only speed up when I'm moving around. I'm going to test again on Monday, then fingers crossed, hit the road Tuesday morning as planned. I need to get home. Feels weird to say that as I sit in the house I grew up in, with my mom checking in on me every few minutes or so. You would think that this would be the recovery space of choice but it's not and that's that. I also don't want to put my mom at any more risk than I already have. I'd much rather be in my apartment, in the middle of my bed, so as not to be a threat to anyone else I love. ugh.
Not to mention, I have plans damnit. It's my freaking DOUBLE NICKLE birthday!! I'm supposed to be on a mutha freakin' BEACH with the ocean lapping at my toes when the sun rises on my actual birthday. There's also a small matter of needing to get a job. Yeah, it's come to that. I have that revenue goal hanging out in the breeze. Ain't nowhere near hitting it which means there are bills that haven't been paid. I do not have time for this. I'm dropping resumes and whatnot all over the interwebs, time to start beating that pavement and doing in-person drops. I. DO. NOT. HAVE. TIME for this.
But then again, the spiritual side of me knows there's a reason, a lesson to be gleaned. That's just the way my life works. So I wait to learn what it is, all the while praying, hoping, and wishing, my lesson does not affect anyone else's life.