Covid Infiltrated our Home: Our 2020 Coronavirus Story

“I’m getting a little tickle in my throat” Robert said on a Friday.

Uh oh.

In any normal year a sore throat, cough etc.. would be no cause for alarm. But as you may have heard, 2020 is not a normal year. It’s the year of quarantines, masks, hand sanitizer, toilet paper hoarding, and distance learning. It’s the year I can’t hang out with my 84 yr parents very often. It’s also an election year and a year of race riots and protests.

2020 will be one for the history books.

All in all, it had not been an absolutely horrible year for our family. Robert was and always will be an “essential” worker. Our adult kids had some plans thwarted but they continued with their education and jobs.

There have been times I wanted to scream. There was no easy way to get around and bypass what the world, our country, our neighbors and friends were going through. We had to and continue to have to go through it.

Our adult daughter tested positive for Covid in July. Her whole office got it. She worked from home, lost her sense of taste and smell and went through it fairly unscathed. We were so grateful.

After living through this pandemic for 8 months, we thought perhaps we would be fortunate enough to not have this virus cross our threshold. But we were not to be that lucky.

By Sunday Robert had a full blown fever, aches, stuffiness, fatigue and chills. We knew he needed to be tested quickly but on a Sunday it wasn’t easy to find access to a rapid test. You would think with him being a physician he would have secret ways to do these things. But no.

We found an urgent care downtown, 25 min. away. We went, they swabbed, we paid, then we waited. We thought we’d have until the next day to wait. But that night he got the text.

He was Covid positive.

He called his office and some family we had been around the week prior. No one else was showing symptoms.

With the exodus of some kids this year, we had a spare room and bathroom for only him to use. We put in a small table and his work laptop. He got a clean, comfy twin size bed to sleep in and all the privacy he could want.

I quickly stripped the sheets and towels from our master bedroom and bath and washed them on hot. He was now not allowed anywhere in the house. I used a mask and gloves to go anywhere near his room. I brought him food and snacks on trays. I deposited and left quickly. I put a clean pair of jammies and underwear in his bathroom for after showers.

Meanwhile, my son and I were also on lockdown. No one in or out. Not that we were being social anyway but now, it’s out of the question. He had been home since March and frankly, we were tired of each other. He’s the last at home and a homebody, pajamas all day kind of kid anyway so quarantine fit his personality. And we should be grateful for this time together or so I told him.

This won’t last forever. Right?

But despite those precautions, my son and I started to not feel good.

Congested and achy.

We found an urgent care and made an appt. We showed up in the evening, did the nasal swab and then waited. Two days later, still sick, we got our positive result.

Covid had infiltrated our entire house.

Well, crap.

The teenager sailed through it with little ibuprofen and some rest. I however was not a great sick person. I was soooo tired. I felt like I could sleep for days. So achy.

Some friends brought food and we also lived on ramen and Dayquil/Nyquil combo packs. My husband started feeling better and now started taking care of me. I stayed in bed and watched shows on my iPad for over a week.

When I told people we had Covid, I felt a bit of shame. If we were doing everything we were supposed to be doing, we wouldn’t get it right? We had been wearing masks since March as mandated by our state. We had heated discussions with friends and family about the seriousness of it. Those that went to big parties and threw caution to the wind were the only ones susceptible. Right?

Robert, a doctor taking care of the most vulnerable, brought it home from work. We were now a statistic, getting the coronavirus in spite of our precautions. It showed us how easily it’s spread, and how contagious it is.

I hate being sick. I get depressed. I let my thoughts take me weird places. I get in a place where I can’t remember what it’s like to feel good.

I think I will never feel good again.

I feel sorry for myself. Especially this time.

Thanksgiving was coming. We were starting to feel better and could function like humans again. The holiday landed about two weeks from our first symptoms. Should we let our five adult kids come home? We made the decision to put off our traditional dinner for a bit and gave ourselves extra time to recover.

My parents had Thanksgiving dinner at home alone.

We finally got to enjoy lots of great days with our kids home. The food, though I had a hard time tasting it, was good. The company even better. It was just what we needed after being sick recluses. We did what we do best and that’s laugh, which IS the best medicine.

I feel grateful our illness wasn’t worse and we had the time and means to recuperate at home. Now I have a superpower called antibodies. Yes, I’m still cautious, especially around my parents. But the fear of “what if I get it” is gone.

We got it. We survived. But not all do.

At this writing, over 292,000 souls have not been so lucky. Many died alone. The stories are heartbreaking.

But I have faith. I have faith in the resiliency of people. I have faith that 2020 will be the year we found out what we are made of. Some day we’ll be putting our masks away for forever. We will look back at this year and remember how hard, miserable and heart-wrenching it was. We will be stronger, kinder, more unified because of it.