I’d just gotten into the groove of blogging again, then had to go to work, and that blew the momentum.

Then.

THEN.

My guy got sick Wed (a cold from the swamp cooler being on all night), I woke up Saturday nasty sick, tested and got the faint positive. I was negative Friday. Son of a…

Made him test. Yeah, not a cold. Friggin’ COVID.

I tested again Sunday, full-on positive.

*insert a whole lot of sweary swears…a LOT*

I have been insanely diligent. Like, that weird person who always wears a mask when no one else does. Why? Anemia. Asthma. A 4-year old who I’ll be damned was going to get it from some unthinking move of mine. I even wear a mask in my own house at times. I’m that person.

You can imagine I am far from a happy camper. There isn’t a picture to insert in this post that really shows how I feel.

And goddammit, please stop saying “it’s a cold” and that it’s “mild”. It’s not, and even asymptomatic people get the gnarly aftereffects like heart damage and blood clots. And for the love of all that is….STOP SAYING “POST-COVID NORMAL”. There’s no bloody such thing. Cases are exploding, the new variants are more transmissible than EVER, and people are talking about visiting family, going to fairs, hitting up conventions and flying without masks and… BTW, if you’re following the CDC’s guidance, stop. Immediately. They’re pure bullshit now.

I’m livid. That’s really what it comes down to. No, we don’t know for certain where it came from, but it doesn’t really matter. A lone masked person really has no defense against a world of unmasked and “over it” people.

I’m 3 days in, nearly fainted 3 times in one day, can’t get hot or I get dizzy, have a constant metallic taste in my mouth, food doesn’t agree with me* (my pajamas are falling off), and my torso hurts like hell from coughing. And the tension headache that today comes and goes, had me wishing for someone to put me out of my misery Saturday and Sunday. The only thing that sort of helped was a cold, wet cloth on my forehead as I curled up directly in front of the fan. I’m basically bed-bound because it’s never cool enough in the living room; the bedroom is the only place I feel ok. Which means my guy, the person I’m caregiver for, is now doing what he can around the house, and it’s so not easy for him. His symptoms (except the cough) are nearly gone now (and they were really bad Thursday and Friday), but me, I keep coming up with new stuff, like trying to shoo a fly out of the bathroom made me lightheaded. I was just standing there. Not running around. Standing. And shooing. What the hell?

It has to be the anemia. Fuuuuck.

And the “post-COVID” oblivion/bullshit lie people have chosen to live in.

I feel like blocking anyone who doesn’t live safely and with the knowledge that this virus can get you out of the blue, no matter how diligent you are.

In anger, lots of anger,

Pip 😷😷😷

©Pip Miller – July 2021

*pudding! I can eat pudding! And the metallic taste goes away just long enough so it doesn’t taste nasty. I’m so happy!

PS: I will be talking more about the healing work, cuz home and no income. Need a session, anyone?