The Twist

 So about a week into my trip, I got Covid. Ugh.

It came on me like a freight train, moving from afternoon fatigue requiring a nap, to shivering and putting on extra layers as I went to bed, then waking up in the middle of the night drenched with sweat, throwing off the covers and lying on top. My throat had been getting steadily more and more sore, and in that middle of the night session I felt like there was a knife down it, and a hammer hitting my head on top and in the back. I had been taking my temperature throughout, and it went one time just above 100, barely a fever. So I thought, maybe it's allergies. Maybe the headache is a migraine. But at first light, I dug out the test kit I'd brought along, and was frankly terrified when it turned positive. How many times in the past three years have I felt poorly, and tested, only to have it be negative? But here it was, and likely true. 

The fear wasn't for how sick I was going to get, it was the implications of being sick while on a ship in a foreign country. What was going to happen to me? How would I lose control of what would happen to me?

When, according to my daily schedule in my room, the medical office was supposed to be open, I masked up and went down. There was a Greek doctor and a Philipino nurse on duty. I told them my symptoms, but not about my self-test. At that point I had no more fever. They gave me a release to sign before giving me another test, and I hesitated several minutes before going ahead with the official ship's test. Again, the issue was, what will happen to me? How will I lose control over what will happen to me, once I'm in some system as being positive? But I went ahead, because I'm so much of follow-the-rules person. Of course, their test was also positive.

They told me I should isolate in my cabin. They gave me some kind of decongestant, to be taken at night. They gave me so tablets for a cough. They gave me some vitamin C. I asked what was in the decongestant, the cough tablets the ingredients, but I didn't understand the answer, and they seemed to think being told when to take it should be enough. They assured me the progression would probably be no worse than a bad cold, and they had no access to antivirals, but I shouldn't need them anyway.

So back to my tiny but cozy ship's cabin. They brought me menus, and took my meal orders over the phone, and delivered them by tray into my room. I took my Extra Strength Tylenol, religiously every 7-8 hours (no more than 3 doses per day) and took my temperature just before renewing each dose. Never again did I have even the tiniest fever. I did not take the nasal decongestant or cough medicine, never needing it. The nose dripped but wasn't plugged. My throat was sore, and I had brought a long a large collection of cough drops / throat soothers, which I partook of liberally. I had loaded up my kindle with books and my iphone with recorded books and my ipad with TV shows and movies before leaving home as I knew there wouldn't be internet available on the ship. The first day, I slept more than half the time away. I woke up the next day feeling almost normal, so time passed as I devoured some books, marched ten steps up and down my room, did a few desultory body weight exercises and stretches, sat on my tiny little veranda to get a glimpse of Greek scenery going by.

And I worried. I mentioned no internet. What I had was my cellphone with an international data plan. So when we were cozied up to the land, and I had connectivity on the phone, I had slow and small internet access. Generally at night we were at sea and there was no coverage. So I tried to look up international regulations about traveling with Covid, any regulations on the airline site, hotels in Athens, etc., and was more frustrated than satisfied. The first couple of days it was more formless worrying in between feeling bad and choosing to drown in some books rather than actually figure out any plan of action. I realized how having money makes everything easier - if I needed to stay in Athens for some days, it wouldn't ruin me. But I had done absolutely no research on Athens, since the only time I would have spent there would have been while staying on the ship. Hotels.com had 967 hotels available in Athens, and I had no notion about neighborhoods, properties, etc.. I felt I couldn't cope and just went back into my books.

The day before we were due to leave, I went back to Medical and asked them about leaving. The doctor and nurse worked for the ship, and they said folks from the tour company that chartered the ship would be contacting me. They said guidelines recommended isolating for five days, but there was no ban on flying, and in their experience most people just went home. So I reached out (not for the first time) to the program people on the ship, and they finally got back to me. Their main question was, "do you feel well enough to fly?" and for me, clearly, the answer was "yes". Except for a mild sore throat, a slightly dripping nose, I had no symptoms except tiredness. I wanted home, in my own house, in my own bed! So they made arrangements for me (and, it turns out, a few other covid-positive passengers) to be transported to the airport separately from the other passengers. I was able to check in for my flight on my phone, and there was a moment of trepidation about what questions I would be asked. But the airline asked many questions about documentation and paperwork, most of which did not apply to US citizens, and never about symptoms or test results. 

We had been divided into small groups for the trip, and on the last day one of the women from my group came by to ask how I was doing and if I needed anything. She had NOT been told I was Covid-positive, and I was ... embarrassed to tell her. As if it was my fault, and I worried that I might have infected the others.  We spoke through the open door of my cabin, distanced, and she didn't run away from me when I told her. 

The same sense of shame pervaded me at the airport. It's very inefficient to get from Athens to the US east coast. Basically, you have to fly to central Europe and then catch a US bound flight from there. In order to make the connections, you have to be on the first flights out of Athens in the morning (mine was 7 am). Because it was recommended being at the airport three hours ahead, and it took up to an hour to get to the airport from the ship, it meant leaving the ship at 3 am. The airport was crowded with many of the other 200 passengers from the ship all doing approximately the same thing. I was double-masked - surgical mask inside KN95 - put on headphones, stuck my nose in my kindle, and avoided any eye contact or acknowledgement. I *really* didn't want to have an out-loud conversation in the airport gate room about my flying with Covid. I also was not happy with the idea I was typhoid Mary spreading germs intercontinentally. I rationally thought the risk to others was low - Day 5, double masked - but I still feel like deciding to fly home was one of the more selfish things I've ever done. 

It was a tough trip on my virus-battered body. It might have been better for me, as well as everyone else, if I'd gone to a hotel for a couple of days. But that's behind me now, no longer an option. It took me several days after I got home to recover simply from the fatigue of the trip: up in the middle of the local night after 2 1/2 hours sleep, then 22 hours before I reached the front door of my house. I was masked all but about half an hour of those 22 hours which added to the discomfort. I switched out masks, going with a really good N95 with behind-the-head elastic straps on the long flight. During what turned into five hours in Frankfurt airport, I bought a sandwich and found a deserted section of the terminal with no-one around me for a big distance, and took off the mask and ate slowly. My nose was never so congested I couldn't equalize my ears on the flights, hooray, but still it was a slight drag to be breathing through the mask all the time. I ubered home, and the trip from the airport was double the normal time. I was so happy to get home and just fall into my very own bed.

I missed a big family wedding on Saturday to my great regret. Thanksgiving dinner is up in the air (so happy again to be a perpetual guest, not on the hook for hosting or cooking). I am likely to show up masked to chat for a while, and then take a doggy bag home to eat alone, unless I get negative tests by then. (Not yet). Still the little dripping nose and slightly sore throat, no fever.

As I assess my condition, I'm not sure what is fatigue, what is boredom, what is laziness. This is a perpetual battle for me. I've been for short walks, done small amounts of raking, worked out slowly, body weight exercises, with my trusted trainer over video. My big boy is living in my basement, did some grocery shopping for my empty refrigerator, leaves on Saturday. We've only talked in passing, me masked and keeping my distance. He turns THIRTY tomorrow, and we're going to have a partially outdoor celebration for him. 

So that's me. Poking along. Not terribly ambitious. But so happy to be in my sun-drenched room, in my favorite chair, not feeling too bad, puttering every now and then with my plants. Excelsior!