The caption in the picture says it all: Covid Sucks . . . It's 5 am, do you know where your sleep has gone? So, this is what I'm staring at right now as sleep escapes me and insomnia beckons me her bitch: a dimly lit room that's so quiet that it's noisy. A cacophony of nothingness but everything ever so loud. I'm grateful that I have remained lucid - or have I?!! How else can I describe the torture I've been enduring these days of late as I slowly (oh ... so ... fucking ... slowly) recover from covid. I'll say it again: It's so quiet. I'm alone in the home office, but I don't feel alone. My spouse is asleep in our bedroom as I cope with this elusive sleep. Having her close by helps, but this is something I must deal with 1:1.
I've been battling covid for almost two weeks now. I tested posi+ive around the 3rd, and I relapsed around the 13th. I was prescribed paxlovid by my physician, but apparently I was one of a few who ended up with "covid relapse, covid rebound, or paxlovid rebound." It's really rare to rebound, and so it seems my luck is as such that a covid relapse was more apt to happen to me than winning the billion dollar lottery. 😭 I have had almost all the wonted (more like unwanted) covid symptoms, but the cough has been the toughest of my symptoms from which I cannot seem to escape. The breathing has been quite fervid at times, making me feel as if I'm going to faint. Several times in the last few days I thought I was going to be another victim of a heart attack💔; those episodes were scary to say the least. I did the breathing techniques that I often recommend of my clients when they're experiencing panic or anxiety attacks. I hate losing control, so I've managed to keep my feelings of apprehension (and infirmity) to myself for the most part; often diluting my symptoms upon responding to family and friends who inquire with those often trite health-related questions. I don't want to scare anyone else about how I'm truly feeling; not because I'm trying to hide anything, but because I know my body, and I know it's just very tired. My mind is tired, too. My health spirit is telling me to slow the hell down, and covid (along with the relapse) were the only way it could get me to listen. I still feel like shit, but I've fallen into a state of paranoia that is centered around my job. My boss hasn't given me a hard time, which makes me grateful, but I can't go on in this state of health for too much longer. I can't explain it. It's like I told my therapist, I feel guilty for being sick and not being there for my students who are in need of the services that the programs I facilitate provide. I fear I've no faith in anyone else taking on those responsibilities. I don't even know if my new office is ready for me. It was supposed to be ready upon our return from winter break, but I haven't been kept in the loop about much, which has added to my ill health, both physically and mentally. My therapist said that until I stop feeling guilty for being sick and start giving myself permission to be sick, I'm not going to be able to heal properly or without indefinite repercussions or unintended consequences. As much as I'd like to surmise my situation with an "FML" response, I must remain positive. It is what it is. 🤷 I didn't ask for any of this. I can neither feel sorry for myself any more than I can blame anyone for this. All I can do is work on recovering.
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