This text was written as I learn to live with Long Covid and attempt to regain my creativity. All the posts and some more info can be found here.
My body shivers and sweats as I lie in bed, the curtains pulled and the door shut closed to keep away the frenzied blinking of the neighbour's Christmas lights. I have no idea what time it is. It would be 11pm or 2am. My partner snores gently next to me. My mind flitters with worries or Covid in my body again and another three months of my life spent in close proximity with the virus and the rippled effects on my body. I keep telling myself that I do not actually know this illness and it could just as easily be a cold. I drift into disturbed dreams and awake with a headache and sore throat. I can barely speak but the fever has passed.
I send a message to my line manager. I will not be going into work today. I return to sleep.
The days pass with ever shifting symptoms. My throat gets better but my nose gets blocked and tickles endlessly. At least, I know this is not Covid and there is hope yet for me spending the first winter holiday in three years without the company of Covid. The days go by easily. I remain off work and let the sickness do its thing with my body. I play video games and watch TV. I retreat to bed and attempt to nap. I watch the birds fly and bicker on the neighbourhood roofs.
On the Friday, I feel strong enough to turn up to my video appointment with the Long Covid clinic. The last time I spoke with them, I dissolved into sobs, my voice level and immeasurably sad. Today I smile and joke. I want them to know I am better. I want them to know they have helped. Yet when I am asked how I am, tears come. I am frustrated at the unrestricted flow of tears I do not want to shed, but here they are. I wipe them again and again with my tissue and insist I am better. I am better. I am no longer flirting with the tendrils of depression but yes, I will admit it, it is still hard. The doctor nods their head. 'It's okay. It's good to admit that it is hard.' 'Yeah,' I huff between wiping my eyes and blowing my nose.
I talk about the lost easy connection with nature that pulls at me constantly. We try to come up with solutions and I try to keep my mind open to them. All I hear in my brain is 'but it's not the same!' and that is not a helpful thought. I let it exist. I let it pass. I write down the doctor's recommendations and let the paper live on the desk. I see it every time I sit down and build a new routine in my head around the advice. First though, I need this cold to shift but I know there is nothing to do but wait. So I wait. I return to video games and TV and the mundane routine of chores and meals and sleeps.