Last Friday morning,
I woke up to a body in rebellion—
cold symptoms, the usual suspects:
stuffy nose, sore throat,
but this felt different,
like a storm brewing behind my eyes,
a monster of a cold,
if only it were just a cold.
My son-in-law had it first,
then my daughter—
it seemed inevitable
that I'd catch their ghost.
But this was something more:
a massive headache,
an upset stomach,
a weariness that sleep couldn't shake,
food turned enemy,
nausea lurking in the corners.
Saturday came, then Sunday,
each day worse than the last,
sleep my only refuge,
16 hours swallowed by each cycle.
Something whispered in my ear:
this isn’t just a cold,
this is something else,
something insidious.
Sunday morning, a revelation:
a COVID test,
dusty from disuse, expired last October,
but it’s all I had.
What the heck, I thought,
might as well see.
Lines appeared—
**both lines, immediately,**
no waiting, no guessing—
a positive, clear as day.
I told the family:
we’re all in this together,
COVID comrades.
But my symptoms?
Heavier, harsher—
I’m almost 80,
an age where risk is more than a word,
it’s a shadow over every breath.
And wouldn’t you know it?
My kids planned a bash,
a grand celebration of my ancient years—
friends, family, a caterer for the food,
a day to remember, if I’m here to see it.
Can’t let COVID steal that from me.
So I did what anyone would do—
I Googled.
Turns out, Paxlovid’s the answer,
a prescription picked up on Monday.
Five days, six pills daily,
and side effects like metal in my mouth,
a parched tongue, headaches,
stomach grumbling,
bathroom visits on repeat.
No booster this year—
not out of politics,
just bad timing, bad luck.
Twice I tried, twice I fell sick.
Flu season passed,
and I let it slide.
So here’s my tale,
a woe for today,
and probably tomorrow,
until this passes,
until I’m done with this crap,
until I’m back to the living,
and ready to celebrate another year,
another survival.
(And yes, I wore a "nappy"
to the pharmacy—
because some habits die hard,
even in the midst of a pandemic).
Note to self:
ask Matt C to write shorter next time.
Just kidding.
Or am I?
