I'm recovering from a bout of illness that started on the evening of Friday 29 January. It became so severe, with a series of symptoms that looked so much like Covid-19, that a week later I ended up going for a test. Fortunately, about 25 hours later, I got a negative test result. Still taking meds to address the symptoms, some of which have abated, I can only conclude that I had stomach flu, which progressed to normal flu.
The thing is - I can't remember ever feeling that sick. Either my memory's failing me, or I really have just experienced the harshest bout of flu I've ever had. I was so weak, that I just lay in bed for days. In the first few days, I didn't even have energy to crochet, or play my guitar - things I would typically do if I was bedridden for any reason. I basically watched movies and journalled. When I was dealing with the stomach flu, I ate such a restricted diet, that I lost about two kilos in 4 days - which was alarming and extremely draining. I had been watching my diet before, and had been losing about 400g a week, which was fine. Losing weight rapidly when you're sick is not fine, by any means. You feel wrong.
The thing is that, almost a year after Covid-19 hit our shores, and now that we've just had a very scary and tragic second wave, when you suspect you've contracted the virus, you have very dark thoughts. No matter how high the recovery rate in our country may be (currently, 89%), I still kept thinking about the people I knew who had died from the disease and how shocked their families had been at the speed at which the disease had taken their loved ones.
My daughter remarked how differently I'd handled this test to the one I'd had in June/July last year. Then, I'd been sharing every thought in my head on Facebook, and I'd basically announced on Fb that I'd had the test, they all knew it took ten days for the results to reach me and all received the announcement that the test had been negative. This time, I told my immediate family and a few close friends and colleagues that I was sick and kept them informed about the test and the results.
I had a lot of time to think, last week. A lot of time to re-evaluate my choices and to challenge myself to live the rest of my life unapologetically, with a greater sense of the value I add wherever I am. I came across some inspiring quotes, on the internet, and took them to heart. Movies I watched filled me with a deep sense of the power of women to step out into the world and make a significant difference, doing what brings them joy.
Today, I'm still taking meds, but I can feel my symptoms receding, in response. I'm grateful to my close friends who gave me advice and basically buoyed me, when I was feeling extremely sick and low in spirit. I'm grateful to my children, one of whom lives with me. They are incredibly supportive and compassionate beings who fill my soul with a sense of pride and accomplishment - because of the adults they've grown into.
Interestingly, one of my greatest worries, when I thought I had Covid, was how it would impact on my daughter. She's in her final year at college and for most of last year had to do her courses remotely. The nett effect was that she feels like she missed a year. I can see how important this year is to her and I hated the thought of my sickness causing her to isolate and miss more college time. Anyway, for now that's not necessary.
Another weird thing about when I got sick was that that day I'd had a one-on-one training session with my fitness coach (I usually train in a small group) and had done a particularly hard workout, which had made me feel ecstatic about my steadily increasing fitness. I journalled that night about my running goals and how I could see myself getting there, with regular training, a goal-oriented mindset and a sensible diet. And then, later that night, my stomach turned inside out and my world upside down.
Anyway ...... I'm well on the road to recovery. Tomorrow I'll resume work - from my lounge, at home - and start wrapping my head around whatever I missed out on last week.
Oh, another very interesting thing, which I can only attribute to a healthier state of mind than before (or maybe just the clearer perspective of a 59-year-old): I did NOT feel guilty about taking sick leave. In the corporate world, there's a tacit understanding that, when you're off sick, you'll be checking and replying to work emails, and maintaining some kind of involvement in your work tasks. I was literally too sick to think about anything other than taking my next meds, forcing myself to eat the next bland meal, drinking enough fluids and getting well again. That was progress, for me. You don't need to apologise when you get sick and have to miss work. You are human. Humans get sick. Employment contracts make allowance for that. Stop feeling guilty about everything. (Me talking to myself.)
Today I have a whole day alone at home. I'm about to take meds and get back into bed. I am now busy crocheting a blanket which I will donate to the 67 Blankets for Mandela Project. The idea was to use leftover wool, but I love symmetry so much, I can see myself going to buy a few more balls of the colours I've started with. This is the 6th blanket I've done since lockdown started, and I'm very happy to have reconnected with this side of myself. I suppose you could say I'm hooked. 😉
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