During the pre-vaccine days of the pandemic, I could count on one hand the number of folks I knew at the time had COVID. It turns out there were more. But I didn’t know many at the time. Now I know all kinds of people that have had it. Both of my brothers have gotten it. Bob, a nurse practitioner who works on the respiratory floor at a local hospital, was the last on his unit to get it. He has no explanation for why he held out so long. Unfortunately he gave it to his wife. Any of a number of my teacher buddies have had it. My cousin and her husband, along with Aunt Marlene. My young friend Nathan with whom I am privileged to act as a mentor at the law school (and in my case it really is “acting”) got it twice.
Most folks reported that it was not much worse than your average cold or flu. Like the flu, it’s nothing you want to get. But unlike the grim reality of 2-3 years ago you are less likely to wind up on a vent assuming that you have had the sense to be vaccinated. As were the folks described hereinabove.
Anyway, our luck ran out over here last Saturday when the Deacon tested positive. She had retired to the den earlier that morning with what she thought was a stomach bug. She had sensibly banned both Joe and me from that space when she thought all she had was a bug. That’s probably what saved us as she didn’t have no bug. Naturally she couldn’t get through to her doctor on the phone. So Bob put her on musinex, Zyrtec and Tylenol. “She’ll power through this,” he said.
So for 3 days or so Joe came down to the kitchen though the guest room. I took her rations and fluids just as far as the coffee table while wearing a mask. She was sick as a dog for 36 hours or so. Fever, muscle aches, coughing. Her skin color, usually like unto a perpetual tan, was ghastly. Her voice was reduced to a squeak.
I called Bob about day 2 to report what I viewed as alarming symptoms. “Sounds pretty typical,” he said. “She’ll be fine.”
“What about antivirals?”
“Eh. Besides its probably too late. She’ll be fine.”
And by day 4 she was much better. And last Thursday she went back to work.
Bob was right for once.
Amazing. The scourge of this earth two years ago, “the worst public health crisis of my career” according to my PCP who called me in at the start of the pandemic to give me a years worth of prescriptions and to teach me breathing exercises, had finally found our house. And, amazingly enough, did not find me. He Who Catches Everything. Me or Joe. At least not yet. Knock on wood.
I’m not going to credit entirely the Deacon’s vegan diet for her return to the living. But it didn’t hurt any. I credit her generally modest and healthy ways. That and she doesn’t smoke.
Most importantly, and not to beat a recumbent equine mammal, she had the sense to get vaxxed up and remain up to date on the boosters. That’s why I’m not typing this from Baptist Medical Center. It’s mostly why Joe and I didn’t get it. That and we stayed away from each other for a good 4 days. The former scourge of this earth has been rendered manageable for most people. Thank God for medical science. I’m referring to real science. Not Facebook science or science as practiced by Jim Bakker.
But I’m gonna have to disagree with the noted epidemiologist Joe Biden. COVID is still a thing. A treatable and preventable thing. But a thing. What was he thinking?
So it’s back to masks in public for me. No more handshakes. Gonna take the flu shot next week and the latest COVID booster next month. I’ll still have a cigar maybe once every 6 months. I figure the smoke will keep the germs away. Makes as much sense as reposing trust in ivermectin and tonic water.
We are lucky. The Deacon was spared.
And I don’t take it for granted either.
