One Year Later

Last year I went to Okoboji for my 40th birthday, and I caught COVID-19. My four friends did not catch it (thank God). Mrs. Presley, shared a bed with me. I drank a fishbowl with the South Dakota contingent on the patio at the Ritz. Divinity and I drove back to Lincoln for five hours.

The morning we were set to leave for Okoboji, I called Mrs. Presley and said, "I don't know what to do. I am not ok."

I had been sick the entire month of June. I had broken up with the man I was dating. Like everyone, I was working from home. I was lonely and scared. I was completely overwhelmed by my job. I had been working 70 hours a week. When I wasn't drafting motions, I was puking or crying. I hadn't been able to eat or sleep that month. I told myself, on the bright side, I had lost weight.

I was seeing a counselor weekly, taking my medications, exercising, and doing yoga. I was calling friends for support. None of that was helping.

I told Mrs. Presley, "I am thinking about checking myself into the psychiatric ward at Bryan West in Lincoln. I am not thinking about killing myself, but I don't know what to do. I am so sad, and I can't snap out of it."

Mrs. Presley said, "NOT TODAY! It's your birthday. You will come to Okoboji, we will get drunk, and I will give you the Covid. Covid fixes everything."

I laughed.

Mrs. Presley said, "It's your birthday. You don't want to look back on your 40th birthday and remember being in a psych ward."

She made a valid point. So, I picked up Divinity and off we went. It was nice to be with friends.

I didn't feel well when we left Okoboji, but I hadn't felt good for a month, so I didn't think anything of it. On July 6, I spiked a fever.

On July 10, when I lost my sense of taste and smell, I drafted a will. On July 11, I tested positive for COVID. I called my doctor's office. They told me to stay home, but call 911 if things got really bad.

I heard stories of people who felt fine and then died suddenly. I asked nurse friends which hospital to go to if I really got sick. They said go to the hospital in Omaha with the ECMO machine. Realistically, they said, you can't pick your hospital. If the ambulance came for me, it would take me to my nearest hospital.

I felt worse than I've ever felt in my life. I had a cough, fever, worst-headache-ever, congestion, diarrhea, body aches, runny nose, sore throat, sore joints, sore ears, fatigue, panic, sore face, lack of concentration, anxiety, depression, stomach ache, sore neck and shoulders, uncontrollable crying, dizziness, and hopelessness.

We were working from home, so I didn't stop trying to work. It was hard, because I couldn't concentrate, and I felt horrible. I would wake up, work a few hours, and then I would nap. Repeat. Every morning I woke up hoping to 'feel better,' and it never happened.

My friends came through in a huge way. Care packages arrived daily. Friends offered to mow my lawn and run my errands. I got cards, texts, and phone calls.

Still, it was awful to be that sick in isolation. At that time, the Lancaster Co. Dept. of Health recommended isolation until symptoms stopped. On August 8, I took myself for another COVID test. I tested negative, but my symptoms were not letting up.

My doctor let me come in for an appointment, and prescribed me a high dose of prednisone, which helped a lot. I was able to leave the house and do some things for the first time in over a month. I took myself to the lake. I drove out to pick up my own groceries.

I was still trying to work, but I wasn't doing a good job. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't problem solve. I couldn't read more than one page at a time. At one point, I couldn't read at all. I would read a paragraph, but I couldn't remember what I read.

My sister kept telling me to take time off and come to Hawaii. Instead of taking time off, I decided to quit my job and move to Hawaii to be near my sister and her family. I had always planned on moving to Hawaii one day, and I could not bear the thought of enduring a Nebraska winter still sick, alone, and depressed. I left my career, my cats, my friends, and Nebraska hoping that paradise would heal me.

I thought one day I would look back and say COVID was a blessing. I am still waiting for that day. I still have splitting headaches, nerve pain in my jaw, tingling in the back of head, stomach aches, confusion, memory loss, inability to make decisions, sore joints, chronic congestion, impaired sense of taste and smell, and depression.

I can count on my hand the number of days I've felt joy in the past year. It's hard to know when to blame the long COVID and when it's 'just life.' Do I just have a bad cold or is this cold bad because I had COVID? Am I depressed because I am grieving the life I left behind or am I sad because I still feel sick?

I still wake up every morning hoping to 'feel better.' That day hasn't come, but maybe this year? At least I didn't spend my 40th birthday in a psych ward. Although, sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I had. I don't know if I would be in Hawaii, or if I would still be pushing the boulder uphill at my very hard job. I suppose there's not much use in "what if."

One year later, I am alive and writing this blog. I am not happy, but I am not the most depressed I've ever been. I don't feel good, but I don't feel terrible. I am so much better than one year ago, but I am nothing like I was before getting sick. I don't feel like leaving my bed, but I do. For today, that will have to be enough.