And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.

So is it possible to write a moment of happiness, or even find one, when I’m sick with Covid? Well, we’re going to find out!

Over the weekend, it seemed like my allergies were kicking in. I am allergic to anything that even remotely resembles pollen, and so I wasn’t surprised when I began to sneeze a lot and had a stuffy nose. But on Tuesday night, as I taught a class, the congestion suddenly increased, like an anvil lowering itself into my sinuses. And I began to cough. I don’t cough with allergies.

Huh, I thought.

When class was over and I went upstairs, I decided to use one of the home tests for Covid. Just to reassure myself that I didn’t have it, because I couldn’t have it, I’d been so darn careful.

Watching that little window on the test was like watching a test for an unwanted pregnancy. As the second line began to appear, well before the ten minutes was up, I pleaded with the test gods. “No,” I said. “Don’t do that. No. It’s not possible.”

Well, that second line didn’t listen to me and just kept appearing.

I immediately canceled classes and clients for the rest of the week, and contacted anyone I’d had personal contact with recently. I sent a message to my doctor via MyChart – I just saw him last week for a physical, so maybe I caught it from him. And by the time I went to bed that night, I was miserable.

First, from the symptoms. Second, from the anger. This just wasn’t fair. I’d done everything possible to avoid Covid. Isolation at the beginning. Vaccines. Booster. Masks. Hand sanitizer. Threw my entire business onto Zoom. I was protecting everyone and I was protecting myself.

And now…Covid.

Because of possible drug interactions, I was not able to take the oral medication to treat Covid. But my doctor had me go in yesterday for an antibody IV infusion. Basically, Covid antibodies were pushed into my veins to battle the illness.

So enter Moment #1, which didn’t start out as a Moment. When I arrived at the clinic, I felt like I had the plague. I couldn’t go right in – I had to call a special number, and then meet someone at the entrance after the hallway was cleared of people I could possibly infect. The woman who met me was in a yellow gown and she wore a mask and a shield. She walked me through the empty hall, and I was sorely tempted to yell, “Unclean! Unclean! Stay away!” Then she led me to an isolated room at the back of the building in a unit I never even knew was there. I was placed in a room all by myself, with a pretty nice recliner, and we were joined by a young man, yellow-gowned, masked, shielded.

But then the fun began.

As the antibodies were put deep into my veins, they asked me what I do. So I told them. And they erupted into questions.

“Ohmygosh, I’ve never met a real author before!”

We talked books. And we talked MY books. The woman was reading a book which is next on my own reading list to read. They were supposed to just let me sit there for an hour, having as little interaction with me as possible to avoid their being exposed, but they kept coming back, asking more questions. When I finally left, they both asked for my card.

Who knew Covid could be good for the ego?

Then, late last night, I decided a hot soak in our Jacuzzi tub would be good for the sinuses and the soul. Last Christmas, a lovely student sent me a box of peppermint bath bombs. I ran the tub, dropped in a bomb, dropped in me, and hit the button for the jets. I was immediately immersed in peppermint steam. I sunk in as deeply as possible. And I could still smell! I haven’t lost taste or smell yet, and I rejoiced in that small gift.

Then, I rolled over onto my stomach and dropped my entire painful face into the hot water and soothing peppermint.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Never has hot water and peppermint felt so good!

Oh, and speaking of bombs – my son Andy brought me a chocolate truffle bomb as a Get Well Soon present. This bomb, you eat, you don’t soak in. But I’ll soak in it anyway, because as of now, my tastebuds are still working.

So are there bright moments even when you are sick with the plague that you fought so hard not to get?


Now, let’s just get me better. C’mon, antibodies! I have work to do!

And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.

At the infusion. Bleah.

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