Well, despite the proverbial “abundance of caution” (over two years’ worth!) – and even after the second round of booster shots – Carol and I recently managed to test positive for Covid. Bummer.
While Carol’s bout was not severe enough to require hospitalization, she experienced nearly the full array of symptoms: fever, congestion, unrelenting cough, head and body aches, profound ennui. As for myself – I lost four pounds.
Oh, not because I was suffering from those same symptoms; I lost the weight from running up and down the stairs to our bedroom where Carol was isolated for a whole week, bringing her cough drops, tissues, decongestant, more tissues, meals, hot tea, still more tissues… I tested positive two days after Carol did, but by then the die had been cast (not that anybody died) and I was in the role of “providing for” rather than “suffering from.”
I was fortunate to experience only a mild manifestation of short duration; just one day where I felt like absolute crap, but afterward I bounced back to my usual curmudgeonly self. Our son did his best to keep himself tucked away throughout the ordeal and managed to remain unafflicted. He took care of his own needs while maintaining as much distance from his ailing mother and virus-shedding father as he could in our modest, two-bedroom home.
However, his approach meant the caregiver responsibilities were mine and mine alone. I handled cooking (all), cleaning (minimal), and laundry (even less than). I slept downstairs in the living room on the inflatable mattress, which required re-inflating several times per night to prevent severe sagging. I put a mask on and off more times than Zorro during hay fever season.
Here I must confess that despite my banishment from our bedroom – I did not sleep alone. I was joined by our two cats, Nate and Miles, who spent most evenings curled up on the blanket next to me, rousing only long enough to deposit hairballs near my face or use the mattress as a scratching pad (perhaps that’s why it required so much re-inflation). Cats are just awesome and we have two currently up for adoption.
Carol obtained a prescription for antiviral medication, which we presume lessened the severity and duration of her symptoms but didn’t cut down much on the extent of her kvetching. Day 10 of the Covid challenge brought the first negative test result – Carol’s. However, she’s still recovering slowly from the exhaustion and so I continue with most of the household duties while she rests to regain her strength while watching hours of Netflix programming wherein medievals who all speak with English accents, regardless of their nationality, have prodigious amounts of sex in-between slaying one another.
I’ve continued to test positive but am bothered only by the resentment I feel at not being the coddled one. Carol has thanked me multiple times for my good husbandry, promising she’ll make it all up to me once she feels back to normal.
While that’s kind of her, I’m not certain if she means the “old” or the “new” normal. Either way – I suspect I can hasten her return to productivity by conveniently “forgetting” what I’ve changed the Netflix password to.
I’m so sorry you’ve been doubly afflicted, but I’m enjoying the laughs your account has produced! We now live in a single-story. Is that why I actually GAINED four pounds taking care of my Covid patient husband?
Think of it as four pounds of muscle, Lee.