Tuesday, April 7, 2020

Covid 19 Blues


          

  As I looked ahead to March 2020, my biggest concern was adjusting to life without plastic bags at grocery stores in New York. On Monday, March 23, I had a fever and mild cough and instantly suspected it was Covid 19. Three days later, I woke up with backaches. It felt like I’d spent the previous night being interrogated in a Turkish prison. I never have back issues. At this point I knew with certainty I had the virus. Over the weekend it felt like I was on the mend but I had another week of fear, fever, and loathing before I overcame this insidious virus.
            I’m sharing this tale because Coronavirus is a road untraveled for mankind, and the uncertainty of it all is scary when you realize you have it. I eat healthy and hit the gym regularly, but I’m 56. Week two with Covid 19 was a grind. Every day was Groundhog Day. I woke up with a 101 fever, took Tylenol and sweated the fever out in a reclining sofa as I listened to Howard Stern. I took Tylenol every six hours to keep my fever below 100. My appetite was good all the way through, but I couldn’t crack the fever and the mild cough. I also suffered weird headaches. It was as if the virus was applying pressure to certain parts of my head. I watched two seasons of Narcos Mexico, and re-watched the Ken Burns New York series. When I’m sick I don’t write, and I don’t enjoy music as much. When I registered a 101.4 on Saturday morning (day 13), I was pissed off. I felt like I should seek medical attention, but I wasn’t going anywhere near a NYC hospital. The relentless strain of this was wearing me out. I couldn’t rule out a visit to an Urgent Care joint if I wasn’t better by the early part of the following week. The psychological toll of Covid is immense, especially as I watched the pandemic unfold on TV. Doctors, nurses, policemen, and firemen younger than me were dying from it.
            As I watched the Ten Commandments on Saturday night, I began to feel better. Let my fever go. Thank you, Moses Heston! I paused the movie to listen to some music. I transcended with the Grateful Dead, and viscerally felt the music as I did when I was at the show 35 years earlier in Providence (4-4-85). The next morning, I woke up with a 99.3 temp and kept the fever away most of the day. On Monday I had no fever at all, just a slight cough. I celebrated with a quick bicep/ab workout. I loaded up on a lot of Vitamin C, soup, juice, water, green tea, and healthy eats during this two-week battle. I’m not sure it helped but simply fighting this disease anyway you can is a must. Hopefully I can take the test to see if I have the antibodies when they get that quick same day test up and running.
            You really have to battle Covid.  A cold or flu will go away. The peak of a flu is worse than Covid, and a cold cough can be more irritating, but this thing is mysterious, deadly, and persistent. Outside of the remaining congestion, I feel great. If the city parks weren’t locked, I’d be shooting hoops by myself this morning. Oh well, it’s back to work on Deadology Vol. 2. My first draft should be done in a few weeks. I was planning on having this published by July, but in this strange new world of eternal pause, I no longer have timetables. All one knows is the wind that blows. I’m bullish on the future. As things slowly return to a new normal this summer, it will give us a feverish appreciation for all the things we used to take for granted. Peace. 








1 comment:

ThinManSpits said...

Oy! Thanks for sharing your short, strange trip on the C-19 bus: some scary shit. Glad you came thru ok, b/c I enjoy your writings immensely. Stay healthy and keep it up!

8-7-82 LET IT GROW

  Thirty-eight years ago today, I witnessed a remarkable show in Alpine Valley. This was my first major road trip to see the Dead (eightee...