You may have noticed that there’s been a long pause between posts. I’m working hard to get caught up, but I’ve been sick. Despite our best and most careful efforts, my oldest got sick – very sick – at the end of April. We suspect he became infected when doing what was supposed to be a curbside pickup. He wanted to treat the family to dinner out, and after much deliberation, I agreed – so long as it was curbside pickup. When he went to pick up the meal he’d ordered, however, it was not curbside pickup and he had to go inside to wait for the order.
He was wearing a mask. Not only was it not curbside pickup, but it turned out they’d missed a whole meal from our order. There was another patron, also waiting. That patron was not wearing a mask. He began talking to my son. The words that came out of his mouth were, “I’m afraid to go to work, one of my coworkers tested positive for COVID-19.”
After getting the order, he came home and decontaminated – took a shower, changed clothes. None of that mattered.
Around two weeks later, my oldest started feeling tired and had a sore throat. Initially, we chalked it up to him pushing himself hard with his online finals for college. But then he started struggling to breathe and thus began our nightmare. He was taken to the hospital and sent home that night, told that his asthma appeared to be getting worse and that he would feel better.
Around that time – the timings honestly pretty fuzzy to me still – I started having a sore throat and having a hard time feeling rested. I chalked that up to the stress of having a kid sick, trying to run a business, trying to keep Girl Scouts going online, and trying to help my six year old with her anxiety sparked by school and life as we knew it abruptly halting.
The second night, we had to have my oldest go to the ER again. I broke distancing protocols we were given because he fainted and I’m CPR certified, so I rushed in, ready to give him any first aid he might need. That night, he was tested for COVID-19 and told that even if he didn’t test positive that they were certain he had it. He was given a state monitor and told to quarantine for fourteen days past the last symptom. Then he was sent home again.
I’m thankful he was sent home. Lots of people who go to the hospital with this virus don’t make it. I’m still processing it all. We had a day without any hospital visits. I was tracking his vitals, and I noticed that I was starting to feel short of breath, and frankly, pretty lousy myself. But then was the night that near-broke me as a parent. His blood pressure began spiking. His state monitor told him that they were afraid he would have a stroke that night and advised him to immediately go into the ER. My healthy 21-year-old kid was at risk for a stroke. I screamed into a pillow. It wasn’t fair. Luckily they got everything under control, and he was sent home again – but I couldn’t stop checking on him. Then, I got sick too.
Luckily, my husband and our three young kids seemed to only have it in passing – knock on wood. My oldest was sequestered to his room and the “kids” bathroom at the end of that hallway so we could keep it disinfected and prevent the potential for the spread as best we could. I quarantined myself as best as a mom of four can in our master bedroom. May is a blur. At the very end of May, we started feeling better, the isolation periods ended.
But then, a week into June, we both had fevers crop up. So, it’s been a long journey. I’m feeling like I’m finally on the mend again. FINALLY. Even still, I still get really winded just walking and my pulse races when I do the simplest of things like get dressed.
I’m telling you all of this in hopes that you will do your best to stay safe. Don’t go out if you don’t have to. Wear a mask. Wash your hands. Follow guidelines. Read the latest research as this is a brand new virus, and frankly, we’re still learning about it. Most of all, be healthy friends.
