My Fiancé Has Been Sleeping On the Floor for Three Nights

Last long weekend we got away to Vancouver Island with some friends. It was the first time in a long time that we had hung out with more than two friends at a time or had a mini vacation. Both were much needed. The next few days that followed after the weekend ended, I found myself struggling to re-adapt to normal life. I felt like I was having a typical post-vacay hangover, but a little worse than usual. I figured it was because we were both pretty burnt out to begin with.

We had come back Monday evening, and by Wednesday I was having really severe allergies. This isn’t out of the ordinary for me either since I usually experience seasonal allergies, and our cat has been shedding like crazy. But I was also really fatigued. I thought maybe it was a sinus infection since I also get one of these about once per year.

Then on Friday one of our friends reached out in the vacation group chat to inform us she had tested positive for COVID-19. I had a sinking feeling then that what I was experiencing wasn’t allergies or a sinus infection. I was supposed to be going out in under a couple of hours, so I snagged an at-home test from a friend, gently poked my brain a couple of times, and was hit with two pink stripes on the little test stick.

I spent the next two hours letting people know, cancelling my plans, and feverishly (luckily not literally) sanitizing the house before my fiancé would return home from work later that evening. I was dead tired, but I had been meaning to clean the house all week so I appreciated the motivation. I lysol-wiped all the surfaces before lugging myself into bed.

We live in a small one-bedroom condo that is not conducive to your typical couch-and-TV setup, so we don’t have a couch. We also, of course, don’t have a spare bedroom. Our air mattress is unfortunately buried in a storage locker in another part of town. There were no hotel rooms under $300 per night available in the greater Vancouver area. Tired from work and stressing about the news, he gathered the cushions from the patio chairs and some spare bedding and created a very unsupportive bed on the floor of the kitchen area. I felt terrible, especially since despite him testing negative, he had kissed me before heading to work that morning, so it was probably only a matter of time.

Yet, we were both optimistic. We both wore our masks around the house, I stayed out of the kitchen as much as possible and we washed our hands about a hundred times per day. He slept on the floor for a total of three nights, very clearly testing negative until this morning, when a solid second pink line showed on three tests in a row. He was supposed to fly out for work tomorrow, so sadly it has resulted in missing out in a significant amount of pay (the perks of being self-employed).

Turns out he wrecked his back on the floor for nothing.

The hardest parts of having COVID weren’t what I expected

We’re very lucky to report that so far neither of our symptoms have been severe. We’re both fully vaccinated and boosted, and like to think that has made a difference. Speaking for myself, given that my symptoms have been very mild, the hardest parts of having this virus are not what I expected. The mental and emotional side effects have been the most challenging.

First was the moral dilemma of whether or not to test at all, since it’s not technically required (as far as I understand — the rules are always changing and often confusing). Since the virus has been more known to cause symptoms like a cough, fever and loss of taste or smell, and I had none of these, my typical seasonal allergy or sinus infection type symptoms weren’t even on my COVID radar.

As regulations and personal opinions of the virus have become more lax, I think many people have adopted the “ignorance is bliss” mentality, preferring to believe they have the usual sniffles rather than taking a test to know for sure. I was really excited to go out with my friend that night, so I won’t lie that I did consider, for a brief moment, not testing and just being extra careful with my mask and extra generous with my hand sanitizer. But in the end, I just couldn’t bring myself to risk it, and I’m glad I didn’t after seeing those two pink lines.

Next was the emotional rollercoaster of the test results. It’s a weird time right now, as we have a history with this virus greater than two years, in which measures have gone from extremely strict and limiting to now loose and casual. We’ve gone from terrified to leave our homes to more-or-less back to our usual freedoms. This virus has killed millions of people, and yet is now being treated more in line with a common cold or flu, with a self-isolation window of only five days from the onset of symptoms, or from a positive test if asymptomatic.

There was a huge moment (or several moments) of panic after seeing the positive test. My own mentality about the virus has relaxed a lot in recent months with the more laidback regulations, and yet when faced with this reality it hit me that after avoiding it for over two years, I now had the virus that has killed over six million people globally at the time of writing this.

Despite being a vaccinated and generally optimistic person, the “what-ifs” started flooding in. What if I’m one of those vaccinated people who doesn’t fare well and ends up needing hospitalization? What if I’ve potentially spread it to more people than I’ve realized?

It’s been a relief that, so far, things are turning out okay, and I spent most of last week at home anyway, and wore my mask out when I did leave the house, so the chances of me infecting others is low.

Another challenge was not being able to go near my fiancé. As a highly affectionate person, this was very difficult and further physically isolating. He massaged my feet for five minutes while he was still testing negative (and proceeded to wash his hands vigorously), which made a huge difference in my mood and outlook. I was stressed about the fact that he would be flying out for work tomorrow and I probably still wouldn’t be able to give him a hug by that point. As much as it sucks for him work-wise, now that he’s also positive we’re finally able to hug again and he doesn’t have to leave until next week (having this virus has resulted in a lot of looking-on-the-bright-side moments).

The final challenge has been a psychological one. It’s been simply knowing that I can’t leave our small apartment making me want to that much more, and feeling sad and depressed that I’m stuck in here (this, coming from a proud homebody). Technically I’m past my five day isolation period now and my symptoms have improved, so I can “resume normal activities” like going to the grocery store—masked, of course—but I’m hesitant to do so just yet.

Despite these unexpected challenges I’ve been reminding myself to count my privileges and blessings. My symptoms could have been far, far worse, to the point of hospitalization. I could live alone and therefore not have any help or company at all, even from six feet away. I could have had a busy week out and about, infecting people without realizing it. I could live in a studio apartment with no balcony and very little natural light. I could have no home at all. I could have slept on cushions on the floor for three nights and had a sore back for ultimately no reason.

Stay safe and if in doubt, take a test! They’re free now!