Not Invincible.

I thought maybe I'd never get it. It would be me, Dr.Fauci and the cockroaches until the end. Then a few weeks ago Dr. Fauci tested positive, and I knew it was a matter of time. ALL of us were doomed. I am not one to throw shade on Dr. Fauci. Unless you've been in the arena, battling everything from AIDS and asthma to Ebola under 7 different administrations since the 1980's. No arm chair infectious disease experts allowed. But, expert or not, apparently I outlasted him. By a few weeks. Once he got hit, I felt like the middle school dodgeball amateur who had gone under the radar, hiding behind team mates until I finally found myself exposed. And of course slammed. As someone who is now part of this collective, historical experience, I feel a need to record my personal experience. At the time of writing this it is July 2022, the third summer of the pandemic, and the most common variant going around is BA.5 Omicron Subvarient of COVID-19. It seems to be much less dangerous and deadly, but far more contagious than past versions, and slides past antibody recognition pretty easily. MANY of my friends getting this are vaccinated, boosted, and may have even had previous infections with other varients. Or for some, like me, this is their first rodeo. Here's my story: After following all the rules for a very, very, very long time, I'd just recently gotten a little more complacent. Maybe a slip in judgement. Or maybe just adapting to an ever-changing situation. In the past six months, I really only wore my mask in unventilated places with 50 or more people for an extended period of time- places like the Hale Theater, a full worship service, or a sold out movie theater. I also wore it to teach Sunday classes the week I'd been sick with a cold, although having gotten out of the habit I noticed myself pulling it down when I didn't feel heard or needed to communicate quickly. Would wearing it more have made a difference in what happened next? I'll never know, although I wish I had reached for it a bit sooner. On Sunday, I taught kids' class as I often do. I held crying toddlers, changed diapers, sang songs, and served snack. The usual. I saw very few adults that day. Moday, I headed up with a group preparing to teach the toddlers and preschoolers at our denomination's Camp Meeting where congregations from our over 60 church District gather. Monday night we unloaded and then ate dinner in a loud and crowded but VERY good hamburger restaurant. Tuesday a friend of ours up there was feeling unwell, and asked for a COVID test from our stash. Negative. But, feeling worse and worse he eventually went home to wait on results from a PCR test, as well as some other possibilities. Our interaction was fairly brief. Wednesday came and went. I held babies, I sang songs, I ate in the cafeteria, caught up with old friends, and played cards and Telestrations until late into the night. I felt great other than the fact that I laughed so hard my face hurt! Thursday came and went. All was well with me. Although I did get word that someone I had not had any direct contact with went home with COVID. Thurday grew stressful, as a dear friend and part of our group was taken to the hospital with a sudden acute pancreatitis attack. This friend also happened to be a diabetic and double kidney transplant receipient. This is a long story and deserves its own blog. But, needless to say, our group felt the strain of concern for our friend as we scrambled to help figure things out from our end. Then, that night Moses and I watched a centipede race under his bed, just as we were turning out the lights at almost 11:30 p.m. I woke up early the next morning feeling like someone who hadn't slept well. Understandable, right? But something else was odd. Something I wish I would have paid more attention to. I had the tiniest little tickle feeling in my throat. Barely noticeable. Not sure. Just this dryness. And my voice sounded husky and strained. I commented on it to my friend after our first session of baby holding for the day. "I always get like this at camp from the allergies, and lack of sleep plus teaching. But I'm probably going to loose it entirely by tonight." At lunch I had trouble focusing. I just needed a nap. But Moses needed his mom to trail behind him for water games at the ball field. I took a book and stayed far away from everyone. Feeling a little warm after sitting out, I texted Dan and asked him to bring the thermometer up with him when he returned to camp that evening. Sure enough, I came back to my room with a low grade fever. Low enough that perhapse I needed some coconut water and rest? I wanted to believe it. I texted my group that I needed to hydrate and rest in hopes I was fine. I wasn't. I got worse. COVID test 1 that night was negative though. However, waking up drenched in sweat the next morning, we knew none of us were leaving the room except to leave the camp. I tested again and got two solid lines. Barely 8 hours after the first test. Even that day, even at it's worse, I'd say I've had colds that hit me harder. I didn't feel great, and the two hour drive home in the backseat of a church van with a mask on was definitely not where I wanted to be, but it was manageable. After all that had happened I suppose it felt a bit like the closing scenes from any of the Jurassic Park movies, our church van bumping over the rocky paths like the Park Jeeps rolling out of such a beautiful place after it had just dished up so much wrath. Despite this, I was able to text all kinds of people instructions for packing up and going home without me, as well as arrange rides for those we brought up. At home I slept a lot the first day. I kept dreaming that I forgot I had COVID and went out to a party. Perhapse the worst time of it was in the middle of the night on Day 2. I woke up feeling kind of like I was choking or drowning. I was breathing through something thick, and so I sat up straight and coughed with all my might until it came loose. Warning: TMI: what I coughed up looked exactly like honey...a dark golden brown and thick and STICKY. The thick goop was a true "wake-up" moment. It occured to me then, this is one reason why people died of COVID. They sufficated in this. It settled deep down in their lungs, stuck there, and grew bacteria that led to those fatal cases of pneumonia. Mine was all just draining down my throat, and had not settled in my lungs. But I sat up straighter in bed, heart beating rapidly. I reminded myself that the oxygen reader was good and my breathing was fine. And then I paused in respect for the fact that this virus which was turning out to be little more than a disruption and annoyance for me and many others, had been the cause of terror, grief, and death for over 6 million children of God in the past 3 years. Six million people every bit as loved and valued as me. Mommies, and daddies, cousins and children. It's not fair, and it's not how it's supposed to be. For those still reading this who have one of those 6 million missing from your life, know that God weeps with you. And for that reason I pray that this post does not feel unempathetic or as though it makes light of this in any way. I can pretty much gauranted that everyone reading this has lost someone to COVID and while I am grateful for how quickly this has come and gone for me, I'm painfully aware of how permanently it has damaged so many other families and lives. I may have a light case. But this has not been a light 3 years. Despite a rough patch during the night Sunday, when I woke up Monday I basically felt normal. Normal! In fact, I have to admit that for a little while I felt better than normal. There's this sweet spot for the busy, working mama, where you realize you're sick enough that no one expects you to make decissions or leave your room, but you're well enough to not be too miserable. It doesn't last long, but the release of stress and realizing you are not a bad person for sitting and watching a show or doing a jigzaw puzzzle is glorious, if just for a moment. Since then, it's been harder in other ways. Since then others have gotten it too. Some I spent time with, like my husband, and some I never had a chance to even speak to face to face last week. Who knows just how many patient zero's were walking around in the midst of this new wave. I suppose it was a risk we knew we were taking. In the last few days I've worn out a little faster than usual I guess. I sleep in later than normal. Some things smell a little strange and certain flavors like mustard, pepper, and sweetness stand out while less profound flavors fade into the background. My ear feels maybe a bit clogged on the left side. Other than that, I'm just feeling down. Sad over things missed. HUGE missed things. Frustrated over work undone. Tired of postponing life once again. And a little haunted over what I could have done differently to protect the most vulnerable. I've had some bitter melt downs this week over how unfair it feels in both big and stupid ways. I know with so many vaccinated people, our president included, finally coming down with this, many ask, "Why even bother getting a vaccine?" Or "Why did we even bother with everything if we're all just going to get it anyway?" Trigger Warning: I'm going to be honest with my answer to this question. I am, once again, not a scientist. I am not a doctor. I just write a blog, and if I've said it once, I've said it a million times...please don't get your medical advice from anything with blogger.com in the URL. But, if you really want my personal thoughts, based on anecdote and this current experience, no I do not regret wearing a mask, pacing myself in re-entry, or getting two shots and a booster for me or my children. I am thankful that in my case the virus has had a chance to calm down and science had a chance to catch up. The hospitals had time to catch their breath, even a little. I have asthma, and so does Moses. We've seen what just a cold can do to our lungs. I am so glad I made it 28 months. My body quickly recognized this villain and knew how to respond. I can't make others' choices for them. That is way outside my pay grade. But, despite how things are shaping up for me and many other disappointed people, I still stand beside doing the best we could with the information and resources available as they came, and I have faith that ultimately we're all headed in the right direction. After all, we all want the same things, don't we? Healthy friends and family, happy children, vacant hospital beds, more Christmas carols and birthday cakes? Faith, hope, and love? I can see it, even if right now it still feels a little out of reach. Because, I remain, even on days like these a "prisoner of hope."