I tested Covid positive Friday, July 1st after a night broken by four hours of severe flu symptoms. I was tired and expected a five-day stay-at-home, plus another five days of limited outside time fully masked. It wasn’t that simple.
Staying at home felt strange. I called a few friends, commiserated, and agreed, “Let’s get together after 10 days. For sure I’ll test negative by then.”
I exercise regularly and thought I’d do the New York Times seven-minute home workout. But the bug had stripped my energy and interest. Being tired was the main symptom. I was taking two or three naps a day and had brain fog. I wondered, “Is this how I’ll feel when I’m five or 10 years older, or do I have long-term Covid, and this is how it’s going to be from now on?”
On day one I’d ordered an eight-pack of government tests and used one every second day, expecting I’d soon test negative. When day five and seven showed positive, I wanted answers, “Does a positive test mean I’m contagious? When will I start testing negative? Should I come in for a more accurate hospital test?” My health provider squashed that. They don’t schedule a Covid test within 90 days of your first positive test, because you’ll likely test positive during that time.
Another family member, who had contracted Covid at the same time, tested negative by the sixth day. I expected similar, and on the 13th day the Covid test indicator line was faint. I happily assumed my Covid was fading, but the internet said, “No. Covid tests are not qualitative. The density of the line means nothing.”
Around the sixth night of my exhaustion and confusion, I had two vivid dreams. In the first I was a child, happily walking with my mother. She was young, smiling and reassuring. In the second dream I was sitting chatting with Robert Hughes, who was in my architecture program at Sydney University and gained international fame as the author of several books, TV series, and as the New York Times art critic. I’d never talked with him much in Sydney. Now we were enjoying a friendly conversation. I was surprised and pleased until a high school friend appeared and walked off with Robert, both ignoring me.
My Covid-addled brain had stumbled into a deep-seated need and fear — the need to be recognized and the fear of being ignored. I know that being appreciated is a universal human desire, and the dreams reminded me of how those childhood anxieties still shape my life.
This week, a witness at the January 6 hearings described his motivation to ignore the truth and join the craziness of the White House December 21st democracy-busting discussion. He confessed his overwhelming desire to be close to powerful people and momentous events and be rewarded for that. I was impressed by his courage in admitting his driven need for recognition, here in the United States, with our iconic independent tough guy myth.
So here I was, weak and vulnerable, dredging up my lifelong neediness, admitting that I still want to be recognized and appreciated as the energetic smart, precocious little boy. But that’s OK. It’s part of who I am, part of my unique personal collection of needs and desires, hopes and dreams, longings and anxieties. We make our lives from the tools we are given. Looking back, I’m more than pleased with what I built.
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Now it’s day 15. This morning’s test was negative. See the top photo. YEH! I’ll swim again and return to my small discussion groups. HAPPINESS!!!!!
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If this posting seems more than usually confused and fuzzy, you know why. I was BUGGY!
Test regularly and stay safe,
(Now) Ex-Covid Barry
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