Coronavirus Day 5 - Fever Free!

Sunday was my first full day with no fever. I was much more cautious when I climbed out of bed after 10 hours of decent sleep, but this time I did not get dizzy. 

For breakfast, I took the time to steam some apples for my oatmeal. It was pretty good with kefir and maple syrup on top, but I could only choke down a little over half. 

Once again, I spent most of the day in bed, but I didn't sleep as much. I felt very tired, but no longer sleepy. I felt distressed about my dirty clothes and hair, but not confident enough to risk slipping in the shower. 

On advice from a friend who recovered from Covid-19, I determined to start eating more food to get my energy up. I enjoyed a cherry peanut butter smoothie immensely, though it gave me chills and sent me back to bed for a while. 

Allyson and I had planned a short walk--the same friend recommended getting outside--but we missed the daylight. Allyson asked if we could go for a drive instead, so we did. It was the first time I'd set foot outside the house in five days, and I really enjoyed it. I told Allyson it brought back memories of my family's occasional Sunday drives when I was young. She'd never heard of that custom. 

While we drove, she placed an order for curbside pickup at BJ's Brewhouse. When we arrived, she called in our parking position and told them to set our food in the trunk. The person who delivered our order apparently had not gotten the message, though. She approached the window, but I gestured her back to the open trunk. She set the bag in the trunk but returned with Allyson's soda. 

I cupped my hands around my mouth and leaned against the window. "We have Covid!" I shouted.

"Mama," Allyson groaned.

The woman shook her head in confusion.

"Covid!" I hollered, and pointed at the back of the car. 

The woman whirled on her heel and disappeared behind the car. A moment later, the trunk slammed decisively.

"Do you think she's mad?" I asked.

Allyson shrugged.

"I didn't want to roll down the window," I said.

Allyson went to the trunk to retrieve our food. When she returned, I asked, "Doesn't it feel like we're in a movie? Some apocalyptic story? Like, 'Beware! We have the plague!' "

"Yeah, maybe," she said.

We ate our dinner on my bed, which she has taken over in my absence, while we watched 50 First Dates. I'd forgotten how sweet Drew Barrymore is in that movie. Laughter is great medicine!

My salmon and mashed potatoes were so delicious! I'd have to say the potatoes were the highlight of my day. That, and watching a movie with Allyson.

I also felt a sense of accomplishment when I cleaned the litter on my own, but I was happy for Allyson's help with taking out the trash.

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Vitals: 97/56 (my normal), 93 bpm. Temperature: 98.0

Symptoms: headache, mild nausea, fatigue, mild nasal congestion, mild sore throat

Coronavirus Day 4 - Dehydration is No Joke

On Saturday morning, I slept until the light was streaming through the windows of my sick room. I'd woken up many times due to sliding down my steeply elevated bed until my feet were dangling off the edge. Each time, I squinted against the light and remembered my friend Pam's admonition to stay hydrated. "I should drink some water," I'd think. But then I'd climb back to the top of the bed and sink back into sleep. 

I finally opened my eyes a little after 10, more than 14 hours since I'd gone to bed. When I sat up, I was overwhelmed with weakness. I finished off the last five swallows in my stainless steel cup and breathed deeply for a minute or two, legs dangling off the side of the bed. 

At last I stepped into my slippers and shuffled across the house to my bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, I was seized with vertigo, and my heart thumped in alarm. I'd forgotten to bring my phone with me, and I didn't want to end up like the poor old woman in the Life Alert commercial who says, "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up." 

As I leaned against the wall and waited for it to pass, I realized what must be wrong with me. I'd gone too long without drinking anything, especially since I'd had a fever when I went to sleep. I just needed to make it to the kitchen and drink some coconut water.

I slowly rose to my feet, only to collapse onto my hands and knees. Uninjured, I knelt with my forehead on the tile for a couple of minutes, then pulled my pants up and stumbled to the sink to wash my hands. 

I made it as far as the living room before I started to see stars. Literally blind, I shuffled to where I knew the chair must be and fell into it. Now I was wondering if I'd need to go to the ER for an IV, like my friend Pam's brother-in-law when he had Covid and forgot to drink fluids.

I figured all I needed was to get some water down. Aside from the weakness and vertigo, my symptoms actually seemed better than the day before. After resting a few minutes on the chair, I was able to walk to the kitchen without incident. I sat at the table for a couple more minutes and then poured myself some water and some cold cereal with homemade cashew milk.

I was too nauseated to eat much, but I felt a little stronger after my meager breakfast. My blood pressure was terribly low at 65/48, so I carefully returned to bed. There, I sipped water and napped through the day, along with both of my cats. Arwen seemed content to nest between my calves, while CiCi was a comforting, squishy weight on my belly. 

In the afternoon, Ethan picked up some food for us at Panera Bread, plus some Puffs Plus tissues. The chicken soup was salty and very delicious. This was the first meal I'd enjoyed in four days. I was also blessed by my friend Pam's husband, who picked up a new charger cable for my phone after CiCi chewed the old one up. I was so grateful not to be out of communication.

By 6 p.m., my blood pressure was 88/61, not too far off my usual normal. (Due to my hypothyroidism, my blood pressure is usually 90-something over 60-something.)

That evening, I had enough energy to feed the cats and clean the litter boxes with some help from Allyson. After that, we watched a movie together. That was a nice break from the boredom. 

All in all, it wasn't a bad day.

P.S. Please learn from my mistake. If you get sick with Covid-19 or the flu, don't let yourself sleep too long without drinking any fluids.

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Vitals: 65/48, 77 beats per minute; 88/61, 86 bpm. Temperature: 99.3 to 99.5

Symptoms: low-grade fever, headache, mild nausea, vertigo, fatigue, mild nasal congestion, mild sore throat

Coronavirus Day 3 - A Surly Nurse

When I woke up around 8 on Friday morning, my fever was nearly gone (around 99.5) and my joint pain had resolved. I still felt nauseated but was able to prepare and eat hot buckwheat cereal with bananas, peanut butter, and kefir (drinkable goat yogurt). I was grateful that I enjoyed the flavor; unlike 86% of Covid-19 patients, I had not lost my sense of taste or smell. That bit of food eased the nausea, but I needed a two-hour nap after all that effort.

I slept off and on all through the day. While I was awake, I enjoyed the pleasant surroundings of my designated sick room, Allyson's old room which contains a bed with an adjustable base. If you've been reading a very long time, you might remember how much fun we had redecorating that room. She has since outgrown the ocean theme, but I haven't. The many shades of blue and green are quite relaxing, and the shells, painted dresser, and orca wallpaper border all remind me of the many loved ones who helped us transform the room. 

The other great comfort was the cats, who worked rotating shifts to keep me calm and quiet. Each time Arwen's shift was over, CiCi gave her a forceful shove off the bed before taking her place on my lap. If you ever saw Garfield knock Odie off a table, you know exactly how that looked. Arwen responded with a pitiful shriek and then meekly left the room. 

Although I wish CiCi would treat Arwen, her onetime surrogate mother, with the kindness she deserves, I couldn't resist giving Naughty Cat her turn. I reveled in her unusual affection for an hour or more, but finally I got cocky and petted her a bit too long. Without a warning, she whirled around and bit my hand with the rapidity of a rattlesnake strike. This little nurse definitely has room for improvement in her bedside manner!

The rest of my day was unremarkable aside from receiving notice of my positive test result that evening. 

At bedtime, after spending the entire day in bed and many hours napping, I was disappointed to find that my temperature was now higher than the previous day, at 101.1. I also found myself unable to clean the litter boxes; just feeding the cats left me exhausted. I turned in at 8 and hoped, once more, that I could sleep this off. 

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Vitals: 96/61, 96 beats per minute. Temperature: from 99.5 to 101.1.

Symptoms: fever, chills, headache, mild nausea, dizziness, fatigue, mild nasal congestion, mild sore throat

Coronavirus Day 2 - A Sweet Nurse

When I woke up Thursday morning, I stumbled to the bathroom feeling a little nauseated and rather dizzy. I noticed that my thighs felt quite warm.

I went to Allyson's room and asked for the thermometer; she'd been battling cold symptoms since the prior Saturday, but she never had any fever.

My temperature was 100.3 degrees, quite elevated compared to my typical 97.5. I also had a headache and a mild sore throat. I felt too nauseated to eat, but I made myself drink as much water as I could force down. Then I called myself in sick.

I called Allyson in sick as well; this was the first day she had not felt up to attending online classes. Shortly after this, we learned that her Covid-19 test had come back positive. 

I couldn't sleep in my bed because lying flat made me too nauseated. So I spent the entire day propped up on the couch, wrapped up in fluffy pajama pants, fluffy socks, and a blanket. Most of the time, this sweet nurse kept me company.

I ordered some canned soup, coconut water, and toilet paper online. When it arrived, I didn't feel up to eating yet, so I just drank some of the coconut water and heated Allyson's soup in the microwave.

At 2:00 I had a virtual visit with my doctor, who warned me to watch for diarrhea, vomiting, or shortness of breath. He said I should get tested and assume that I had Covid-19 in the meantime. "There's nothing we can do for you at this point. Just drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest. Call if you get worse," he said.

I drove 15 minutes to the drive-through testing site run by the county for a free mouth-swab test. There was no line, and I was thankful to get in an out within 10 minutes because the sun beaming on me made me feel even more sick and dizzy on this unseasonably warm winter day. 

As hot as I'd been in the car, by the time I climbed back onto the couch, I was freezing. My temperature was now 100.8. 

By now, Allyson had gone to her dad's house. I didn't like being alone in the house because I'd read too many horror stories about cases suddenly turned deadly in adults who are single like me. I called my mom, and she prayed for me. That made me feel better.

My neck was stiff from my awkward position on the couch, so I decided to sleep in what is now the cats' room, on a lovely bed with an adjustable base that is usually covered with a clear plastic table cloth to protect it from the cats' claws. The only obstacle between me and my comfy bed was two dirty litter boxes and two hungry cats. I rallied my strength and fed the cats, then sat down to catch my breath before dumping the boxes into their sifting pans and dumping the mess into the Litter Genie. I sat down again and then carried the large plastic pans and the litter boxes into the hall and the living room, where they will remain for the duration of this illness. 

My teeth chattered as I washed my hands, and I sank into bed gratefully and pulled the covers up to my chin. I raised the head of the bed so that I was halfway to a seated position; that kept the nausea at bay. I'd neglected to shut the door, so the cats were both in bed with me through the night, but they didn't bother me too much with their restlessness. I slept pretty well, considering.

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Vitals: 113/69, 95 beats per minute, temp 100.3 to 100.8

Symptoms: fever, chills, joint pain, headache, mild nausea, dizziness, fatigue, mild nasal congestion, mild sore throat

Coronavirus Day 1

This past Wednesday, coronavirus symptoms began abruptly, just before bedtime. I'd been sneezing violently for nearly a week, but I'm pretty sure that was just allergies; this happens to me every January and February when the mountain cedar blooms.

The first thing I noticed that evening was that most of my joints were aching. My left foot hurt enough to cause a limp, and my left thumb was very sore. The skin on my left forearm was burning from the inside out. I felt a lot like I'd felt when my Hashimoto's thyroiditis had flared up in 2019. I figured I must have eaten something that bothered my immune system, such as gluten.

My plan was to get in bed early and sleep it off, but sleep was elusive because I felt more and more sore and restless through the night. The pain in my hips kept me from resting much, but I did manage to sleep fitfully until the light woke me on Thursday.

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Symptoms: severe sneezing, joint pain

Never Forget

Over the last year or so, my physical, mental, and spiritual health has steadily improved. Despite all the challenges with Covid-19 and the resulting isolation, in recent weeks I've recognized hope and joy blossoming in my heart again.

Against this bright backdrop, the shocking events in our capitol last Wednesday seemed even darker. For the first time in months, anxiety squeezed my chest, and a heaviness weighed me down as I struggled to put together something for dinner. A familiar question that had plagued me for months last year resumed its oppression: "What is the point?" 

Now it was not only my life that was falling apart, but apparently my country also. And all I could do was watch it crumble.

These bleak thoughts wrapped my mind and heart in darkness until bedtime, when I finally spent a few minutes in prayer. Following advice from a recent entry in Jesus Calling, the devotional that has been so instrumental in rebuilding my faith, I pondered the power of Jesus and His infinite love and said, "I trust you, Jesus." Quieted, I sank gratefully into sleep.

On Thursday, though, I couldn't resist the pull of news stories and videos that portrayed the horror more vividly. Tears rolled down my cheeks when I saw a "Jesus Saves" flag waving amidst scenes of violence. What made my heart most sick was the intensified divisiveness I observed on social media. How could it be that the terrorist attacks on 9/11 had drawn our country together so poignantly, yet this attack from within had driven the wedge between opposing groups even deeper? Where would it all end?

Satisfied

Right after I published my last post, I spent a couple of minutes on Facebook before turning in for the night. I ran across a post from a friend, about a conversation with a colleague at the school where she works. The teacher told her that the only way to get through all the stress of this crazy year is to focus on being thankful for something every day. He also said it's important to make ourselves vulnerable so that we don't miss out on meaningful relationships.

I fell asleep thinking about both of those ideas. As I mentioned in my previous entry, I'd already been thinking about all the reasons to be thankful for the most important people in my life. Now I considered something I'd written several times on my inventory, in the column about the long-term effects of others' actions: "mistrustful... I built a wall." 

I don't like having walls up. I spent too many years hiding behind them, a prisoner to my perfectionism. How disheartening it was to find myself ensconced inside what feels like a fortress, to be lonely, yet afraid to open myself up for more hurt. I probably prayed about my feelings, but I soon lost consciousness because it had been such an emotionally draining day.

When the light woke me, I stretched luxuriously and then reached for my Jesus Calling devotional. Within moments, my eyes widened as I recognized one sacred echo after another, as if the entire entry had been written in response to my spoken and unspoken questions about how to let my walls down and how to open up and receive the unconditional love that I crave.

Making Room for All the Good Stuff

 A few months back, I started my second Celebrate Recovery step study. This program for finding freedom from "hurts, habits, and hang-ups" follows the same 12 steps from Alcoholics Anonymous, but from a Biblical standpoint. The first time I completed the steps, I found it difficult to probe deeply into my past because I was weathering the agony of divorce at the time. This time, I'm struggling to let go of emotional and spiritual pain from my Hashimoto's thyroiditis flare-up last summer and fall. 

Today I took a day off to work on my personal inventory, a critical part of step 4. I could have done it at home, but I wanted a quiet place where I wouldn't be distracted by piles of laundry and dirty dishes. My friend and coworker Melodie graciously offered me her little Air BNB apartment, A Little Bit Country. "I want to contribute to your project," she said.

She did more than just give me a bed and a quiet place to get alone with God. When I arrived yesterday afternoon, she took me for a walk through her lovely neighborhood out in the country, interrupting my chatter over my latest crush only to point out this abandoned church.

After that, she and her husband Brad fixed a delightful dinner of grilled chicken and vegetables with grilled cinnamon pineapple slices. Wow! The dinner was almost as enjoyable as the conversation; Melodie recounted the most entertaining stories about her mission trips to Latin America and a journey to a Mayan village for a college research project.

I woke just before nine this morning to a wonderfully quiet house and some strong coffee Brad had left for me. Since my doctor advised me to avoid coffee due to its acidity and the possibility of inflammation, I usually enjoy only one cup a week, diluted 50 percent with chicory. The full-strength coffee, on a Thursday, felt extra special. I figured it would fortify me for the daunting task of reviewing my entire life and listing everyone who'd hurt me as well as everyone whom I'd hurt. Another of Melodie's rich gluten-free brownies couldn't hurt either, I reasoned. 

A Better Sweater

I started this entry on 9/27/20, and tonight I will finish it at last.

Over the last 15 years or so, my faith has carried me through anxiety, health issues, severe stress, heartbreak, and loneliness. The tougher the battles, the deeper my roots grew, and the more precious my Beloved became to me. I'm not saying I didn't struggle; if you've been reading long, you know that isn't true. But through it all, I always leaned on a deep trust in God's faithfulness, and what a comfort that was.

Last July, a combination of prolonged work stress and a drug interaction triggered a severe flare-up of Hashimoto's thyroiditis, an autoimmune disorder that I've had since my twenties. The flare-up led to chronic pain, inflammation, digestive problems, weight loss, and mania due to prolonged insomnia. I was out of work for five months, and a slew of other problems ensued which I won't burden you with. 

Somewhere along the way, I felt so alone and so broken that my faith suffered a grievous injury. I felt betrayed and abandoned by even my Beloved. Although God continued to take care of me in beautiful ways, and although He restored my physical, mental, and financial health, the nagging fear that He couldn't be trusted drove a wedge between us.

I never turned my back on Him. I continued to pray, read my Bible, and meditate on scripture, yet nothing seemed to penetrate the sadness that overshadowed me. On a walk in the park a couple of weeks ago, I told Jesus, "In the past, I used to feel like there was a veil between me and you. I felt that you were near, but I couldn't get close to you. Back then, you helped me cross that veil. But now, it's worse. I feel..."

I paused on the trail as I searched for an apt comparison. "I feel like I'm in a tomb." Tears slipped down my cheeks, and the darkness was so heavy that I could feel its weight. "Please, Jesus. Please help me," I prayed. 

When Sweet and Sour Don't Mix

In addition to being a food person in general, I've always been a breakfast person. Often my last thoughts before drifting off at night are dedicated to planning my breakfast menu. Saturdays are the best. Nearly every week, I enjoy a special treat of Costa Rican coffee with lots of nut milk and a modest serving of maple syrup. On a good week there might even be some type of healthy pancakes.

The Friday before last, I went to bed with my mouth watering for gluten-free toast, fried eggs, and thick-cut bacon, plus my usual 8 ounces of coffee. When my eyes opened the next morning, a smile formed on my lips before I could even form a conscious thought. Special breakfast day!

It wasn't until I got to the kitchen that I remembered this vexation:

All Creatures Creepy Crawly

On a Monday night a couple of weeks ago, I was just finishing the seemingly endless bedtime routine. Even though I hadn’t done anything strenuous that day, I was so ready to fall into bed, but after I’d fed the cats, one look at their favorite litter box in the laundry room told me I’d better not skip that step tonight.

I squirted my nightly dropper of CBD oil into one side of my mouth and held it there for the two minutes it took to scoop out a shocking quantity of pee clumps. The second box was empty, as usual. Dumb cats.

I swallowed the oil and scrubbed my hands thoroughly through two mental choruses of “Happy Birthday.” Allyson and I had already read the Bible and prayed, so in one more minute I could stretch out on my memory foam mattress, topped with a cool-gel memory foam topper. Ahhh, I sighed as I dried my hands.

On my way out of the kitchen, some motion in my peripheral vision stopped me in my tracks. It was CiCi, cavorting under the table. I smiled. As much fun as she was having, you would’ve thought we’d given her some catnip. What was she playing with?

Since I wasn’t wearing my glasses, I had to lean in close to find out. Ugh! Here was her plaything.