After two years of not getting it, I was beginning to think I never would.
Despite many close friends and relatives and more than 60% of the US population having had COVID, I've managed to escape it for over two years.
But now I've been caught.
Last Friday I have a PCR test, as part of the protocol for being an extra on a TV show. I get the results the next day, negative.
But that same day, Saturday, I awake feeling really crummy.
Stuffed nose.
Incessant cough (the deep, dry kind that has no bottom).
A very bad sore throat.
A pounding headache (like a vise opening and closing on my head).
Overall fatigue.
No day is a good day to be sick, but this day in particular is not a good day.
My sister Valerie is hosting a bridal shower in Long Island for Michael's soon-to-be-wife, Dominik. My mom and sister Jean are driving up from the Cape just for the day. And I really want to be there to see everyone, and be part of the celebration.
So I get up. Shower. Steam out my dress. And then go back to bed.
I spend the next few hours mostly sleeping. But when I do find some modicum of energy, I take a home COVID test. This, too, is negative.
Just a mother of a cold, I guess. Not like any I've had before.
So yesterday I decide to take another PCR test. Living in NY it's so easy. There are small tented testing sites every few blocks, including one on my corner.
I wake up today after a restless sleep and decide to see my doctor. On the bus ride over, I get the results from yesterday's PCR:
I get to my doctor's office and she tells me to go home.
As it's already been five days, I don't want to take any medication. Plus, I can't believe my symptoms will get worse. And while it's been very unpleasant, it's tolerable.
I've had no fever. And my appetite is fine.
Okay, so now I know what I have. And maybe (though who really knows) I'll get a few more antibodies in my system.
Given the horrors of the world and this country right now, I really have little to complain about.
