Lorraine Sommerfeld: The COVID diaries: When Omicron comes calling
I'm uncertain of exactly how I caught this (there are a few possibilities), but I 10/10 do not recommend.
Day 1: Woke up with a bit of a headache, though fairly certain that was due to the Pinot Grigio from the night before, not the plague. By midday, I noticed a slight cough. Therefore, I had a cold. Right?
Day 2: So, so tired. Weary. I am not a napper, mostly because I have to conk myself out every night with a sleeping pill and that is not recommended if you only want a short snooze. Still coughing. Curled up in bed not-napping, but unable to do anything as strenuous as sitting on a chair in the living room. Still refused to entertain it might be COVID-19, and we only had two tests, and they wouldn't register yet, so can't waste them. Much swearing about Doug Ford having a garage full of tests while I had to get a friend in Nova Scotia to mail me some back in December. Zero appetite. Wait: Is this the chance to lose the pandemic weight?
Day 3: Test. Positive. Dammit. Slept badly around the clock. Still felt exhausted. No appetite. Sinuses killing me. Rifled through the bedside drawer to find some expired sinus pills. Less excited about losing the pandemic weight, but only a little. I can find a silver lining in anything.
Day 4: Got up, wobbled around, went back to bed. Drank tons of water. Ate a Triscuit. Already certain I have long COVID after four days.
Day 5: I had to work. I couldn't work. My brain was mush. Called in dead. Editor was kind. Considered doing this more often. What's a day off if you're too sick to enjoy it?
Day 6: Coughing. Exhausted. This is awful. Still can't eat. Still slightly not upset about that part. Reached to the very back of the kitchen cupboard to find some Tylenol Cold and Sinus Daytime that expired in 2018. Would they keep me up all night? Unlikely. I couldn't stay awake if I tried.
Day 7: Slept all night and most of the day, but woke up every hour. Thanks, expired Tylenol Cold and Sinus Daytime. Stayed in bed and felt guilty being in bed during the day. Cats were very happy. Still can't eat.
Day 8: Wow! I felt so much better! Energy! Did work, laundry, and then at 4 p.m., crashed and burned. Told myself it's because I've eaten six Triscuits and a hard-boiled egg in the last three days.
Day 9: Coughing, exhausted. Yesterday was an aberration. Do not be fooled. Back to bed. Note to others: Get a copy of Lonesome Dove. It's 850 pages and you'll need it. Ate three Triscuits. More water.
Day 10: Woke up very, very cautiously. Still no appetite (like a hibernating bear, I knew I'd be fine). Wondered if I should still be taking fibre pills that the doctor makes me take. Since I'd had only Triscuits and water for nearly two weeks, my innards were no doubt pristine. Except for the COVID stuff.
Day 11: Coughing. Awful sinus pressure. Walked around with an oxygen meter on my finger playing hospital. Found a hard-boiled egg in the fridge of undetermined provenance, ate it because what was it gonna do, make me sick?
Day 12: See some tiny abs that have been slumbering beneath a protective layer of flab for nearly two years. Pop an expired something, go back to bed. Wonder if I'm milking this to keep reading Lonesome Dove, which is my lifelong favourite pastime.
Day 13: Finally well. Will be even more cautious. If you're an antimasker and have something to say? Bring it on. I will shut you down.