Day 6 of my Covid journey dawned with me still feeling crappy… congested, coughing and bone tired,… but I’m less foggy and brain addled so that’s progress. I even managed to feed the cat something more appropriate than Raisin Bran.
I’m gaining.
Not that there’s any rest for the weary when my husband is three days behind me on the plague meter and still in the miserable thick of it.
Having Covid is bad enough, but having to nurse someone else who has Covid while you’re still feeling its effects?
Hell.
And to top it all off, I woke up this morning with absolutely no sense of smell or taste. Nothing. Nada. This worries me, because my girlfriend lost hers for over two years and said it was truly awful.
After avoiding the dreaded ‘Rona for 4 years and tricking myself into believing we were either uncannily lucky or simply immune…
.
.
The modern equivalent of the plague found me and I popped positive for Covid.
Life since has … quite frankly…. been hell.
Four days ago I had a slight sore throat.
Three days ago I took to bed and stayed there for 36 hours barely able to raise my head. Blinding headache, killer sinus pressure, body aches, congestion, coughing, chills, crippling fatigue. I was down for the count. And pretty much on my own because as much as I love my husband, he’s the worst nurse on the face on the planet.
Yesterday I managed a shower and did a victory lap to the kitchen for a bowl of chicken soup. Which I fixed myself.
This morning?
My ever so thoughtful husband stood at the edge of our bed shaking my foot (at 3:00 am…. WTF!) telling me I had to get up and test him.
.
.
So now he’s in bed, where I was three days ago, whining non stop and expecting me…. who, hello? is sick with the very same thing… to cater to his every need. He may be a Marine, but when he’s sick he’s a big fat baby.
Hence, Hell.
Life right now is Hell.
Did I mention I just had to cancel a non refundable week long holiday vacation we’d booked at a fabulous resort in the Berkshire Mountains starting tomorrow? No quintessential Norman Rockwell Christmas in Stockbridge, no horse drawn sleigh ride, (I had to cancel that too) no sipping hot toddies on the Red Lion Inn’s porch.
Yes, you read that correctly. The old fashioned form of communication we decrepit antique humans grew up using. It doesn’t take pictures or track your location or allow you to cruise porn…. but when the power goes out? It still works without charging. There’s something to be said for simple technology.
We hooked up a landline when we first moved to this house 22 years ago and never saw any need to cancel it. It’s the number we give to businesses and doctors offices and all those annoying things you sign up for that require one. It’s our junk call line and saves our cell phones from being inundated with spam.
Anyhoo…. I’ve noticed the line has been scratchy with distortion lately, but didn’t pay it much attention. Until the other day when my husband tried to use the phone and couldn’t. Sure enough, the line was stone cold dead.
After an aggravating half an hour trying to reach a non artificial life form at the phone company, I was connected to ‘Ruby’… who said she was from the Philippines but sounded like she got there by way of Mumbai. I explained the problem and after giving her my cell phone as a contact number, an appointment was made for a tech visit. Problem solved. Great.
I thought no more about it… until I started receiving random texts from unrecognized numbers in Idaho and Nebraska and South Dakota an hour later. They said, “What’s wrong with your phone? Have you blocked me?” and “Why haven’t I heard from you?” and “Hi! How have you been?”
I don’t know anyone in Idaho, Nebraska or South Dakota and the timing smells a bit fishy.
I had to give my cell number to the phone company because the phone I was calling about was dead…. and now I’m getting fishy texts.
River's world..... 