Back in 1999 when I had a car accident that caused amnesia, it will surprise exactly zero people to learn I constantly heard the joke that I should just hit my head again to remember. And to be completely honest, when the memories never came back, the re-bonking thing almost seemed worth trying. But this newsletter isn’t about that. It’s about Covid.
Back in May of 2022, after years of avoiding it, I did finally catch Covid-19. Back then, I think it was the Omicron strain. I was completely up to date with the vaccine, and thankfully Paxlovid had just been released for emergency use. So with Paxlovid, a pulse oximeter, and enough anti-inflammatories to shrink a Jovian moon, I dove in head first to an infection that would either kill me or not. Spoiler: It did not.
The thing is, I have a really compromised respiratory system. I had untreated asthma growing up, and thanks to the scar tissue from that, my lungs operate at about 70% on their best day. But after about 5 days of what was truly miserable illness, it seemed as though I would recover from Covid. Thanks to paxlovid-rebound, I was infectious for 22 days — but even delayed recovery is still recovery. And then I knew I could fight off Covid and survive! Yay!
But…
First off, I don’t think I got “Long Covid” after recovering. There were some significant changes though, which are hard to explain without at least giving Covid the side-eye. The brain fog lasted long past a standard recovery time, and I’m not sure if it eventually subsided or if I just got used to things being a bit foggy. The strangest thing, however, is that I could never return to my regular sleep schedule.
My standard schedule before Covid was to wake up at 4:50AM every day. I’d drink some coffee, spend a few hours drawing my comic, writing a bit, and prepping for a successful day at work. Then I’d go to sleep around 9:30PM. That’s how I managed to do a new comic 6 days a week. But after recovering from Covid, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get up at 5AM. In fact, it seemed like my body suddenly required at least 2 extra hours of sleep every night. And it wasn’t just for a couple months while my body recovered. I STILL need that much sleep every night. I can’t explain it, but it was devastating for the life of my comic. I’ve recently tried to go back to drawing weekly, but even that has been difficult.
Then last Sunday, I got Covid again.
Donna brought Covid home the previous Wednesday, and we’re not sure where she caught it. But while we were feeling pretty good about our isolation effectiveness, once she started feeling better, I started going downhill. But Covid is milder these days, so I should be fine, right? Right?!?
[Narrator: He was not right.]
It’s difficult to remember all the details, but basically on Sunday my head hurt, my throat was very scratchy, and I had a mild cough. I didn’t test positive for Covid all day though, and since Donna was already starting to feel better, we thought maybe I had something else. But of course, I was wrong. That night I did finally test positive.
Here’s the timeline, to the best of my recollection:
Saturday: Went fishing. It was pretty cold, and I was in waders. I remember thinking, “boy, I should be wearing more layers, this is how people get hypothermia…” — I also didn’t catch any fish, but I didn’t feel sick at all.
Sunday: Woke up with a headache and scratchy throat. As the day went on, I developed a mild cough, so took a Covid test. It was negative. All the symptoms got worse, so that night I took another test, and it was positive.
Sunday Overnight: Things got much, much worse. Thankfully, since I was already infected, I didn’t have to stay away from Donna anymore. Everything hurt. Literally every square inch of my body felt like I’d been beaten with sticks. Saying I had body aches just doesn’t approach the level of pain I was in.
Monday Morning: Donna called the doctor asking for advice, and potentially a Paxlovid prescription. I was alternating Advil and Tylenol every 4 hours, but still in unbearable pain.
Monday AFTERNOON: (Yes, it took that long for the doctor to call back) The doctor called back and did a telehealth appointment with me. His concerns were my oxygen levels and the inflammation which was likely the cause of the pain. Based on how much body pain I was in, he didn’t want that level of inflammation to move to my lungs. So he added prescriptions:
Paxlovid
Albuterol inhaler
Increased dosage and frequency of Advil (anti-inflammatory)
Tessalon Perles (prescription cough suppresent)
Monday Night: This was probably the most dangerous part of the infection. I was alternating larger doses of Advil and Tylenol every 3 hours now, and still couldn’t keep my fever below 103F. But in addition, when I would stand up and move around, my oxygen level would drop to 90%, which was the lowest level before I was supposed to go to the Emergency Room. The two most concerning symptoms were working against each other, and one or both felt like they might run away at any moment. Donna helped me into the bathroom, and I took a very shivery lukewarm shower. Our new shower has a digital readout, so we were able to keep the temperature at exactly 100F. It was warm enough to only feel uncomfortably cold, but still cool enough to lower my temperature. That shower is probably what kept me out of the hospital.
Tuesday: My memories are foggy on Tuesday. My fever stayed in the 101-102 range, and my O2 was in the mid-90s. So it really seemed like I was out of the woods. I was still very uncomfortable, and couldn’t really sleep. Like, at all. And coughing hurt really, really bad.
Wednesday: I can really only explain Wednesday based on text messages sent to Donna, and the total lack of clear thinking. While I think I was doing better health-wise, I was still unable to sleep or even find a position which would allow me to rest. I had horrible stomach pain, which got worse when I was prone. But I also couldn’t sit up for some reason. I couldn’t think well, which was probably due to Covid brain fog, but also because I hadn’t slept since the 2 hours of sleep I got after that shower on Monday night. This FELT like the worst day, but it probably wasn’t the most concerning, health-wise. Maybe. I can’t remember most of the day, just that it was truly horrible.
Wednesday Night: At some point, I fell asleep and got a couple hours of sleep. I woke up with a bit of hope. We ate dinner, and after another shower I was able to sleep most of the night.
Thursday: That’s today! I feel like someone recovering from something horrible. But the sleep overnight helped a lot. Heck, I’m typing out a newsletter!
And now?
Well, I’m hoping this is my Covid head-bonk. After I recover completely, maybe I’ll be able to get up at 5AM again! Maybe I’ll have a new lease on life! Maybe I’ll win the lottery! (Ok, I might still have some brain fog…)
Of course it’s also possible I’ll require two MORE hours of sleep every night, and I’ll basically sleep like a teenager during summer vacation. I certainly hope not. Sleeping late hurts when you’re almost 50 years old. My body gets sore from resting apparently.
Honestly the moral of the story is — Covid is still real. Just because it seems milder these days, that’s not always the case. Take care of yourself and those you love. And for all those who have been sending me well-wishes, thank you!
I’ll probably still be recovering through the upcoming weekend, but after another week or so I should be healthy enough to get back to normal. Hopefully that means 5AM wakeups. But I don’t think cartoon bonks are based on science, so I’m not holding my breath.
