I finally got COVID. It was not what I expected.
Nearly all my friends and family have had it, whether triple or quadruple vaxxed, mask-wearers or not, about 90% of the people I know have had to muddle through. If I knew about it, I tried to check on them, and everyone said it was like a cold but 10 times worse. Mine was like a cold but 10 times easier.
Let me clarify.
I decided a long time ago that getting a cold or the flu was a price I was willing to pay to be close to the littles in my family. I would go visit and even if a kid just had a little sniffle, inevitably I would get sick. A couple of times, I would get home thinking I was fine only to stand up and think to myself, “That’s not right,” and end up with a 103-degree fever. Plus, there’s my annual October sickness. And while everybody else’s colds and flus last a few days, maybe a week at the most, mine usually run about three weeks.
It’s all thanks to my pesky broken immune system. Which is also the reason for my travelling pharmacy. Every time I am going to spend a night farther than an easy drive from my apartment, I fill up a special kit bag I bought just for medications. Not just diabetes meds, but all the ones for the conditions at the bottom of the hierarchy, as well as over-the-counter meds for almost every possible symptom I could pick up from someone else’s bug. I never want to be stuck needing something and facing a closed pharmacy.
When I got COVID, I was already on my way home from a week-long trip. The only indication that it wasn’t my usual cold was that the sore throat was slightly higher than it usually is. I was tired enough that I just dropped into bed, my little kit and a bottle of water within easy reach. There was something for every symptom inside: an albuterol inhaler (asthma) for shortness of breath, promethazine (gastroparesis) for nausea, acetaminophen for fever management, Robitussin for cough and congestion, and lozenges for throat pain and the awful metal taste that would come with the antivirals. I started taking all of them that night.
I tested for COVID early the next morning. It took about three of the recommended 20 minutes for the pink line to appear. I was worried. I assumed it would get worse in the next few days. Knowing my friends’ experiences, I knew getting the antiviral would make a huge difference, but that it was also time sensitive. It was the weekend, so the first thing I did was try for the endocrinologist on call. It took two calls. The first one messed up my phone number then stopped trying despite the urgency I had communicated. The second told me that my GP was the one who would be authorized to write a prescription. When I called the GP on call, I was warned that I might need a telehealth visit, which was fine. But all I had to say was ‘diabetes’ and the script was written, no appointment necessary. They weren’t even interested in all the other co-morbidities.
Since I wasn’t about to leave my apartment, I enlisted the help of my awesome friends, who added bagels (white bread is easy to digest which helps settle your stomach) and popsicles (amazing for sore throats) to the delivery. To my surprise, my symptoms only lasted about four days. The highest my fever reached was 101.4. Halfway through the course of antivirals, all my symptoms were gone except for the fatigue, and I’m not sure whether that’s from the COVID or the promethazine.
Obviously, I am well enough to write this post. I went to all my scheduled online meetings today too, although I wasn’t particularly vocal.
Maybe the COVID I picked up wasn’t a particularly bad strain. Maybe my experiences with cold and flu conditioned me to expect something worse than it was. But it appears that I may have found another silver lining to having all these conditions. Between treatments for all seasons on hand and the relatively easy access to antiviral treatment, it appears that for once in my life, I have gotten the easy end of the stick.
I’ll take it.