Covid-19 and Me-70

Remember that poem about a crowd of daffodils? William Wordsworth; I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud. This Daffy-Dills, yours truly, is eschewing crowds these days and considers this poem in a deeply personal way. 

I’m completely isolated, doing zoom sessions with family and taking solo walks on the Interurban Trail, which runs behind my abode. 

I’ve lost over half my income but I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a place to live and enough monthly money to get me through. While I'm in favor of making health care workers the priority when it comes to triage, it also frightens me to think of myself expiring, isolated and ignored, because of age. In a worst-case scenario, I would not be at the top of the totem pole.

I don’t have positive proof but it’s reasonable to say I already had Covid-19.

January 20^th, I went to Olympia to participate in Lobby Day. That evening, my friend Lea and I met at a great club, Rhythm & Rye to see Jovino Santos Neto Quinteto. We felt pretty lucky to find them there the same night. I was feeling particularly healthy and youthful! The next day was wet and cold and we gathered in the belly of the Capital building. We met with representatives and I was able to chat with Senator Jesse Solomon about issues important to voters in our district. In the afternoon, I bid goodbye to my friends and left the chilly basement of the Dome, headed for the long drive home to Shoreline, in the pouring rain and ensuing darkness. On the way down the mall, I slipped on a patch of water-soaked moss. I fell hard on my butt, catching myself with my gloveless palms. Muddy and soaked, I got to my car, and merged into traffic. When I arrived home, I stripped my mud-caked clothes, tossed them in the washer and went to bed.

I was sore the next day but dealt with it. Thursday wasn’t much better and by Friday, I felt sick. At the end of that day, I shook so badly, I had a hard time getting my key in the lock. Mind you, it’d been five years since I’d been ill. It felt like a personal affront to me; an attack.

The next day, my daughter Olivia took me to Urgent Care; before we could hardly get a foot in the door, they sent us to the Edmonds ER. I was tested for flu, had a lung x-ray, and my throat swabbed. The flu-test came back negative but the doctor prescribed Tamiflu anyway. It was $101 at Walgreens. Seniors with Medicare not being covered for Tamiflu. I later discovered that Bartells down the block was charging $175. The Tamiflu was totally ineffectual.

MY PILLOW

By Monday I was much worse, had missed Sunday brunch with my writers’ group; my granddaughter Mila’s singing performance on Saturday afternoon; and Saturday night opera Eugene Onegin with my daughter, Emily.

I saw my primary physician and she did more tests, with no great reveal. I eventually was diagnosed with extreme upper respiratory tract infection. Wednesday morning, January 29^th, I wondered if I'd ever get out of bed, but started to make a turnaround on Thursday, and by Friday, I couldn’t stand myself any longer. Clean sheets and a shower produced a new but partially broken me. It was January 31st and no one here had heard about coronavirus in China.

It was a slow recovery. I had a tough time getting my stamina back and accounted for that to being seventy years old. I’m pretty on top of my game for an old fart but worried that I’d had some kind of setback. My throat continued to be terribly sore and I had a nagging cough. My doctor ordered new tests; the throat was a major concern. Everything came back normal, so I was out of the woods, but mending was obviously going to take awhile. (A shout-out to my daughters who kept me alive and supplied with popsicles, the only thing I could eat for days.)

MY CANDLE

One month later, on February 24^th, I wrote to my doctor again, complaining about the cough and I still a sore throat; should I be concerned. Here's her response:

I wish I could help you feel better faster! If it helps, I saw a patient today who has a very similar story - was sick, now generally better, but with an awful sore throat and a little cough. Maybe it's a particular virus that's going around? I'm really not sure.

That was February 24^th. 

Less than a week later, things started to get crazy.

On March 3rd, my doctor put me in touch with the Department of Health. I explained I had not been traveling. There was little anyone could do, but being in a database was not a bad idea. Since that time, I’ve received a total of four calls from the DOH. At the time, it was nearly impossible to test someone who they believed might have the coronavirus, let alone test for antibodies.  

January 8^th was the first day of winter quarter at Shoreline College, where there is a comprehensive program for Chinese students. They learn English and once they've mastered it, move on to universities. It’s part of their immersion process. Students who, in the past have lived at my property, are now attending institutions such as Penn State and Cornell.  Since the on-campus living fills up fast, I always get a flood of these kids right before a new quarter begins, fresh from China.

The week prior, I did tours of my available units for quite a few new arrivals. One drove a brand new, temp-plates, white Mercedes and had two friends accompany him. As is my nature, I shake hands, which I also did with these three young men. One of them seemed to be coming down with a cold. 

It would seem likely, that if I did have the coronavirus in January, the closeness with possible applicants such as these, would have been the source. 

The fourth and last person I talked to at the DOH asked me the same questions the former interviewers had but wanted to end our conversation with an admonishment. She let me know that, whether it was indeed Covid-19 that I had contracted, it was unlikely I'd gotten it from Chinese students. It was my turn to ask questions. She read back to me undetailed notes from my original phone call interview. Making me out to be a racist made me feel almost as sick at the virus itself and I know the ineptitude of one notetaker is not a reflection on the entire system.

However, what's happening at the top is terrifying. Hearing the bully in the White House refer to Covid-19 as the China-Virus makes me grind my teeth. We know that’s not the case. And when do we stop the uninformative, press conference of the arrogant and dishonest? One tiny man tries to get the truth to the public but he's clearly outnumbered.

I think we may be in for a long haul. As I hope we'll get back to close-to-normal life, I rely on the fact there are ways to stay in touch and keep from being idle. Take walks with friends and stay six feet apart. Zoom and Facetime with family and friends. Clean cupboards and go through photos. Read books that have been gathering dust. Write if you’re a writer. Paint if you’re a painter. Sand a piece of furniture and order paint online to create a masterpiece. Bake.  Exercise (especially if you eat what you bake.) Call old friends and send emails. Catch up. Wash, wash, wash your hands. 

We will get through this.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading.