On the eve of my return to the workforce after my ten-day quarantine, I thought that I would chronicle how this virus, which has turned our world upside down for the better part of two years, treated me. And how people treated me. This is my experience, and my experience only. I’m not political. My politics are basically, “don’t be an asshole.” I’m not sure how a global pandemic got politicized in the first place, but here we are. I don’t care where it came from because it’s here. It’s real. And we should act like adults and nip this shit in the bud.
I will start by saying that I had been fully vaccinated with the Pfizer vaccine in April. I was seven months out and due for a booster, which I hadn’t gotten around to yet, but the doctor assured me it most likely wouldn’t have made a difference. I started to feel a little weird on Sunday. Not sick, per se, but stuffy and kind of run down. I feel run down a lot, so I didn’t think anything of it. Working mom life, am I right? I went to work on Monday morning feeling much the same. As the morning wore on, I developed a cough and started to feel dizzy and nauseous. By noon, I decided this could actually be a thing and I needed to get far away from my co-workers, stat. I shot my boss a text that I was headed to get a test and instructed everyone to clean everything behind me. There was a five hour wait for a test, as people were getting tested for no reason so they could travel for Thanksgiving. I signed up and went home to wait for the urgent care to call me. Now, this is going to sound batshit, but my tolerance for being sick, which I hardly ever get, is high and I honestly would have continued to stay at work if Covid was not a thing. I picked up the house. I packed the boys lunches for the next day. At that point, I felt I was probably a little feverish and laid down on the couch, proceeding to pass out for a couple of hours. I got up, picked up the kids from after-school and by then it was time for my test. They had to go with me, as my husband wasn’t home yet. Took the test. Positive. Well, fuck.
The first thing I did was text my boss because I knew the policy was that I would have to be out for ten days. Next, was to reach out to some co-workers, figure out scheduling and ask a couple of them to take on my interviews for later that week. My kids still needed to eat dinner. I did all of this while feeling like dog shit, because parenting does not stop for anything. Finally, my husband was home and I could park my sorry ass on the couch, from which position I emailed the school and teachers. My kids didn’t have any symptoms and I could have sent them to school with no one being the wiser, but alas, I am not an asshole. See politics, above. That night was rough. I alternated between sweating and shivering so violently that I woke my husband up. The next day was much the same, low fever, chills, headache, nausea, sweating any time I tried to do anything other than sit still. And I couldn’t really sit still. Why, you ask? Because my husband was told that as long as he’s fully vaccinated (he is) and symptom-free (he was), he could still go to work and carry on normally. These were the exact words from the school nurse while we were on the phone with her. Her next sentence was to ask if I could be sequestered from the rest of the family in a room with my own bathroom. After just telling my husband to go to work. WHO’S GOING TO WATCH THE KIDS, DUMBASS???
I felt better in a couple of days, so I guess it was pretty mild. On Thanksgiving Day, I made a light-hearted Facebook post that I had Covid and my family still came over. In reality, they stayed outside, took the dogs and kids for a walk, and played in the yard a bit. No biggie. BUT, cue the messages. Most people were just asking how I was feeling, which was nice. Some people did that, plus decided it was a good time to tell me that everyone they knew who got Covid was vaccinated. Good for you. Anecdotal evidence is not science. Nice try, though. Then everyone at work decided to be all dramatic, like they must have Covid now and can’t go to work. They didn’t. As the workweek commenced, and I attempted to get work done from home whist dealing with kids and whatever school work their teachers managed to get them, everyone at work seemed to all lose their minds at once. My phone and e-mail were simultaneously blowing up with problem after problem that I couldn’t physically be there to deal with. My head was pounding, although from Covid or work, I couldn’t tell you. Every day was like this. On top of this, I still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, still getting tired easily (like seriously, I thought I developed narcolepsy), no taste or smell. That still hasn’t come back, actually. It was awful.
This has been the majority of my Covid-related conversations: Do I regret getting vaccinated? Nope. Let me tell you something, from my point of view only: There has never been a claim that the vaccine would 100% keep you from contracting Covid. No one has said that. But, it gives you a 96% chance of not needing hospitalization. So how can you claim to care about our healthcare workers while shunning the thing that might bring them a little relief? What absolute privilege must you have to just take your chances. Sorry, but there are people who depend on me and I can’t be in the hospital. What privilege to not have any loved ones that Covid could kill. Like my husband, born with a heart defect and left with a damaged lung because of it. When that doctor told me I tested positive, I started crying. Not for myself, but because I was so fearful of already having passed it on to my husband. She assured me that he was vaccinated and would be fine. Guess what? He never got it. My kids also tested negative. I didn’t pass it on to anyone I worked with Monday morning. Why? Because vaccinated people carry smaller viral loads and, while it’s not impossible, it’s less likely they will pass it to others, especially other vaccinated people.
So, I’m pro-vaccine even though I got it anyway? Yup. My family is fine, and that’s not an accident. So save your speeches and your fake research. Today is not the day and I am not the one, although I’m sure there’s someone out there who would appreciate the confirmation bias. And put on a goddamn mask.
Let's Be Dramatic 