Getting over it

It is my turn. It is going around again.

I’m getting over Covid. Somehow, I’ve avoided testing positive all this time.

My coworkers and friends are getting it. Again. They are saying this round isn’t so bad. I’ve heard a few people say that if Covid wasn’t such a big thing they’d just take a decongestant and go about their life. People keep saying this version is milder, I’ve grown complacent. Maybe they are all just trying to make us feel better. Ease the fear and response. Maybe we are all just tired of wearing masks and putting swabs up our nose. I know I am.

However, at the end of my fifth day of quarantine this hasn’t felt like such a mild thing. One night I was fine. Sure, I’d been tired and moody for days, but I chalked it up to stress and hormones. My husband was out with a client and I went to bed. Tired. Happy. Glad to not have an alarm set for the morning. He came in an hour later and suddenly my nose wouldn’t stop running. My throat hurt and I had a mild cough. I got up to get tissues and maybe some medicine and decided to take a quick test before going to bed. I assumed I was being paranoid, but instead two lines quickly appeared. I thought of all the people I’d seen and hugged that day. My husband moved his things into the guest bedroom and my quarantine began.

That night my fever crept higher. My body ached. Sweat seeped through my clothes and my sheets. This was more like a terrible flu, not a mild cold. (and yes I know this version is still better than the first few). I spent most of the day in bed, although I struggled to sleep. My whole body ached. The next day was about the same. My fever dropped some with medicine. I ate soup. I door dashed ridiculous desserts because it was one of the few things that made me happy and I had the energy to accomplish. My stomach rejected all of it. I felt like I had been run over again and again.

By day four, I found myself drinking medicine balls from Starbucks, walking because I heard that helps and returning from my short jaunts completely covered in sweat like I ran an actual marathon rather than just walking a few houses down. People texted and asked how I was, but I hesitated to tell them that I felt miserable because some people have said it wasn’t so bad. I wanted to be breezy like that. Nothing to worry about here. I hesitated to see a doctor because I felt like so many people did just fine with over the counter stuff and so should I.

Which is absolutely ridiculous.

Literally millions of people have died from this and I am struggling to say that I feel bad and get help because I think it should feel easier. That I should be better at it. That I should heal faster or it should hurt less.

I have a strong pain tolerance.

I am tough.

I can endure.

Thankfully even the brain fog wasn’t enough to keep me in that delusion.

I set up a virtual doctor's appointment. The doctor immediately responded that I sounded terrible. He doled out prescriptions and advice, most of which I followed and I started to improve.

Maybe I would have on my own, but the point is, I didn’t have to.

No one in the last few years hasn’t been touched by Covid. We’ve all had to cancel plans. We’ve lost people. We’ve been isolated and afraid. It is universal.

And yet.

I don’t quite know how to let it be a big deal, because well frankly it has been everyone’s big deal. I want to brag about mild symptoms. To power through.

And maybe it is like that for some, but not for me. For me it was exhausting and frankly a little scary. I can’t help but think of the people that ended up in hospitals or worse.

Eventually I realize that my thinking is trash. It is ok for something to be easy for one person and hard for another. There is no award for something being easy. That’s not even admirable. It is simply lucky.

My friend experienced a huge loss recently. She texted the other day that she didn’t expect to feel this sad for this long. She didn’t expect to cry so much. I didn’t have a good answer. I have never had that kind of loss. But, I certainly never expected her to be done crying by now. No one is expecting her to be over it by now, but still she feels like she should be better. We give ourselves timelines to handle hard things that zero people are holding us to. Timelines that we’d never put on other people. Grief isn’t mild or easy. There are no rewards for getting through it quickly.

What I’m learning right now is that it is ok for some things to be hard even if they are easier for others.

Pick your ache: Grief. Illness. Heartache. Rejection. Disappointment. Career aspirations. A papercut. It doesn’t matter.

It might take you longer to get there than someone else.

It may hurt more. Or take longer to heal. It may require help or outside resources.

It may be harder for you to get over or through than another person.

So be it.

Recently a friend wrote something about paying attention to our bodies. About knowing when to say enough. She wrote this, “The body is funny sometimes. It betrays and reveals. But it is always honest.” This week hasn’t been fun, but my body has been honest even when I wasn’t ready to be. It has reminded me with each cough and each ache that when it comes to the heart (or my lungs) that few things are a competition or follow a made up timeline.

Trying to make a hard thing easy only makes it harder.

Don’t believe me, just pay attention to your body, I guarantee it will tell you.

I’m on the mend. Finally starting to feel human again. I’ve been lucky. I only had a few days of miserable. I recognize not everyone can say that.

I’m getting over Covid, but I’m also getting over some previous toxic ways of thinking.

Good riddance to both.