The Coronacation Diaries, Episode 101

I've been trying to figure out exactly where and how I contracted this virus. 

I wasn't careful out in California. My goal was to make it there, enjoy every minute, and let the chips fall where they may. I purposely didn't wear a mask on the plane home (I announced) because — if I was going to catch it — if I hadn't already had it at some point in the last two years — then this next week was the perfect time to get it.

And so, here I am. Thanks, foreshadowing. You're swell.

To be clear — there were others on the plane who masked the entire time who also got it. And there were even more who were unmasked all day every day who are magically in the clear. I don't actually think it was the plane. I think it was the public bathroom in San Francisco. But it also could have been a random cough by a passerby anytime, anywhere. It could have been just simply in the air. 

Sometimes I wonder if it's all security theater.

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Even so, I sequester myself outside from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., coming inside only to pee, get the kids out of bed, or find something to eat while I hold my breath in the kitchen. The other 12 hours I sit on my bed, watching Netflix on my computer propped up on a laundry basket, or try to sleep. It might be security theater but it also might not be and I'm still going to trust the medical professionals and science.

I don't feel particularly good, but I don't feel particularly bad. I'm vaxxed and boosted, and I'd been exposed 1000 times before in my job and in my own home, so I'm sure I've got a pretty high immunity to this asshole. Mostly, I'm just tired. Climbing the stairs makes me out of breath. My back is sore, both to touch and to move, like I got in a good workout whilst also getting sunburned. I've got a cold, but it's more annoying than horrible, making me cough at inopportune times, making me sound like a smoker, making my nose run — not enough to blow, just enough to endlessly wipe on my disgusting sleeve. 

And I feel guilty. Guilty that I wasn't careful around my mom. Guilty that I had a long, joking (unmasked) conversation with the pharmacist and my son at the counter, arguing about the metric system, before I came home with my 8 free COVID tests and immediately tested positive.

And I'm bored, but not so bored that the exhaustion fades away enough for me to get the mulch down and weed the garden. I'm bored enough to feel put out that no one can hear me in the house unless I call them on the phone, and I just need to make sure that they took the pizzas out of the oven. I'm bored enough to scroll through my email, but not bored enough to overcome the malaise and respond. I'm bored enough to pull up a crossword puzzle, but I'm too tired to actually do it.

And I know that I am so very, very lucky. I am so privileged to have an outdoor space to sit, to have had access to vaccines, to have had this week of vacation time with very little on my plate, and to have a partner who will step up and take my daughter to practice and my son to get his glasses fixed, even if he also has to ask me how big to chop the onions, as if I have an actual recipe for anything I cook. I still make the coffee for him after he goes to bed, although I am careful not to exhale.

I am one of the lucky ones. Over 1,000,000 people have died in our country alone. I have no underlying conditions. I'm healthy and relatively fit and only just pushing middle-aged. I'm vaxxed. I'm middle class in a middle class community. I'm white, with a history of health and longevity and prosperity in my genetic makeup. 

This will just be an inconvenience, and then I will get on with the rest of my life.

And so...I am annoyed. I am bored. I am not feeling 100%. 

But yet, I am totally fine.