MY COVID MEMOIR JULY 2021

I’m one of those people (one of only 1 million South Africans) who gets the flu vaccine every year, because I teach and also because flu is extremely unpleasant.  Also because I’ve seen it kill a strong young man of 30.  Around 5000 die every year from flu.  I have it down to a fine art; the key being to get it in April as soon as it’s available so that you have a full 6 weeks of warm weather to build immunity before winter hits.  So when Covid-19 registration opened early, on the 30^th of June, for the 50-59 age category, I registered immediately, knowing that so far, this was the only perk of having turned 50 in May.  Just 6 days later, before even getting my responding SMS, I received a WhatsApp from a friend saying she had popped into a vaccine site and that I should go straight away as they weren’t busy, and so I did.  I was perfectly healthy and excited to receive my protection.

The following day I felt a bit tired, as expected, and took it easy.  On the 8^th I started with some aches and a dry cough, and when this continued for 2 more days, I figured my immune system was showing a strong response, but by the 10^th I googled the side effects and realised that a dry cough was not a side-effect of the vaccine and with my aches intensifying, my symptoms were probably not related to the vaccine but in fact, by sheer perverse fate, in fact, the dreaded plague itself.

For the next 3 days I had non-stop body aches and fever, but aside from the slight dry cough, I had no actual upper respiratory or sinus symptoms.  This isn’t too bad I thought, without mucous, I can easily handle this with Paracetamol, Ibuprofen and sleep.  I took to bed, grateful that I wasn’t working at this stage, and with my mood optimistic.  But then the fever and aches carried on, and on, for another week and my chest became progressively tighter. Twelve days of fever and aches in all ensued.

Never in my life have I consumed as much pain medication so consistently; waking through the night to keep topping up.  On day 9 (Covid days are counted from the onset of symptoms although one can be infected as much as 2 weeks before) I went for a Covid test and my extremely vigilant GP called after hours to let me know the result was positive.  She then called me again on Friday morning (day 10) to see how I was doing; she informed me that as a Discovery Medical Aid Client, I had access (on confirmation of a positive test) to R2000 additional (non-saving) funds for Covid care, which included 2 telephonic consultations and 2 in-person consultations!  At this stage, I still thought I could just tough it out on pain-killers, but she wisely cautioned me not to take risks, citing examples where people younger than me had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, losing oxygen capacity rapidly.  I allowed her to prepare a prescription for me including an asthma pump, an oximeter (a device that measures your blood oxygen levels by clipping on your finger) more ACC and other meds. 

On the same day (day 10) I received the news that my mom-in-law had passed away from Covid.  I had first heard that she was ill just 10 days before and had been around to drop off some soup and fruit the same day (possibly where I contracted it, but I wore a mask and sanitised as I left the house). She had been admitted with low oxygen levels just 6 days earlier.  This made my illness feel even more serious.  Although at 83, I knew she was in an age category that had a 40% higher risk of fatality, I could not believe how swiftly she had succumbed.  Like many of her age group she had bought the conspiracy theories hook, line and sinker and so had refused to be vaccinated even though she had been eligible since May.  There had been no reasoning with her and now her beliefs had sadly shortened her life by probably 10 years (her mother lived to 99).

Days 11 through 15 were the hardest. By now I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.  I was tired of taking medication.  I was tired of lying in bed.  I was too ill to read and I was tired of listening to audiobooks.  Previously mild aches, like my arthritic thumbs, were now very painful, my chest was tight; the weather had turned bitterly cold and worst all was the unending isolation.  On day 13 I visited the doctor and was prescribed antibiotics for my chest.  Friends were checking in but often I felt too ill or ‘foggy’ to respond, it became too tiring to update people or respond to messages.  I had long dropped off all social media. My brain felt muffled and I began to feel like an alien, caught up in my un-ending illness.  This was also the week in which riots broke out throughout the country.  Illness, death and now this mayhem.  Like many of us, I felt caught up in a dystopian nightmare.  Luckily for me, I was far from the areas affected.  It was hard to feel compassion in the midst of my own private misery.

Since I had separated from my husband 7 months earlier, I didn’t have a partner to take care of me, or keep me company or cheer me up.  This was my first post-separation illness, which made it so much harder.  My older son made some meals, washed dishes and did laundry, but was out with friends most nights; and my younger son played X-box non-stop.  Lockdown level 4 meant very little was happening anyway.  For the lack of responsibilities, I was very grateful.  Another thing I was very grateful for was that I did not lose my sense of taste or smell!  However, my appetite was low and I even stopped drinking coffee (extremely unusual for me).

Finally, on day 15 the aches had stopped but then the headaches started.  Three days of unremitting headaches accompanied by mild nausea.  On the 3^rd day, I could no longer bear it and stopped all pain-killers and medication, thinking that perhaps 16 straight days dosing pain-killers every 6 hours was having a negative effect on my system (some dehydration possibly too).  For 2 nights I slept in the lounge; my bedroom had become an intensely unpleasant place, like a post-traumatic stress trigger.  I honestly could not go into it without feeling nausea and overwhelming memories of fever, sweating and pain. It felt like a prison cell and I wondered if I could ever again see it as the sanctuary it had always been.

I’m not sure whether or not stopping the medication was connected, but thankfully on day 17, the headache lifted.  For the first time in 17 days, I had no aches or pains without the aid of painkillers. Hallelujah!  I was tired, mildly nauseous and still felt very foggy-headed though.  For the first time also I was forced to venture out as my son was due for surgery to extract his wisdom teeth. 

Being out in the world for the first time in 2 weeks was an unreal experience.  It wasn’t just like coming out after lockdown, it was like coming out of solitary confinement. My head was still foggy.  I looked at people laughing, chatting, hair neatly done, nails manicured; going about life with an ease that seemed like a distant memory to me… how did they do it? Re-entry felt like swimming through mud for me.  It felt as though I was invisible, not a part of the human race.

That night my headache exploded again accompanied by a drenching night sweat. Covid? Medication? Menopause?  I took one Panado and tried to ride it out with lots of water.  This time it lifted sooner.  Day 18 I went for a walk on the beach, this was great for my spirits but not great for my chest.  That night I had to dose with ACC and use the inhaler again. The next day I took it slower and enjoyed a long call with a friend.  I finally responded to WhatsApp’s and thanked friends who had checked in and prayed.  For the first time in a long time, I felt human again. The fog had lifted. Today, as I write (day 20), was my 2^nd day of the return to planet earth. I cleaned my house which has been virtually untouched for 2 weeks and I marvelled at how amazingly wonderful it feels to be well!

My story is not unique.  As I discovered during the weeks, several of my friends were also ill with Covid at the very same time.  It seems that we in the 50-60 age category have been most let down by our government, that offered us vaccines too late – in mid-winter, in the midst of a vicious third-wave of Covid - a poor consolation for a group of people highly likely to suffer more severely from getting ill.  Perhaps not entirely the government’s fault; the greed of first world countries has also played a role.  Those northern countries are now happily enjoying an un-masked summer while we white-knuckle it through winter.

My story is also a privileged one. The luxury to rest; the luxury of medical aid; the luxury of a vigilant doctor; the luxury of a safe and warm home.  I cannot help but think of the many, especially elderly who have died alone, or in shacks, without the luxury of an oximeter to alert them to dropping oxygen levels.  As horrible as the illness was for me personally, so many have had it far worse.

I truly hope that this is the end of my Covid journey.  My chest must still clear and I find I am still easily tired.

There are many lessons to be learned.

Firstly, dear friends, please vaccinate as soon as you can.  I you have to get one every year for the next 5 years because of variants, then do so!  This is an extremely unpleasant and unpredictable virus.  We do not even know the long term damage that it may have done to those who have had it.

Secondly, please continue to be vigilant about masks and social distancing.  This echoes meaninglessly in our ears.  Just after I was vaccinated I met someone and they stuck out their hand in greeting.  On every other occasion in the last year I have responded with an elbow, but for some reason, this time I was tired of being rude and I shook his hand.  A week later he too had Covid.  I don’t know for sure that he contracted it from me, but I felt terrible.  Had he died, I would always have felt guilty.

Thirdly, isolation is very hard!  I say this as an introvert who loves huge amounts of alone time; but it does something to one’s psyche.  Human connection is terribly important and we neglect it at our peril.  Perhaps, here my situation was somewhat unique, being newly single and away from long-standing friends; however many people live alone and illness itself tends to make us less likely to reach out and connect.  I am so grateful for those who kept checking in on me.  I have a deep new appreciation for connection of almost any kind with other humans!

Some of you will still have to face this illness despite your best efforts to avoid it.  I feel for you.  Whilst I was ill, I had little remaining energy for compassion but now my compassion is renewed and I will pray more deeply for all who continue to suffer as well as meet the needs of those who are suffering.  May God grants us his strength and grace for this challenge and may it soon be over!