I Did Everything Right...

On Wednesday, March 16th, at 6:43PM, I tested positive for COVID-19.

I'd figured it out about 18 hours earlier, what with the muscle pain, fever, congestion and headache, but I'd still been desperately hoping that it was just the side effect of a month of solid rain and wet weather.

I had plans to travel for the first time in two and a half years coming up that weekend. Another trip in mid-April. My first bookstall in almost three years, for which I'd bought a new marquee and re-stocked all my books! Friends I hadn't seen in far too long! My father and stepmother were coming for a long-overdue visit in only a few days!

Please, please, anything but COVID-induced self-isolating...

The ping of an automated text message had never been so terrifying.

Statistically, I had very little to fear from catching the virus.

I had both public and private health insurance, and my pre-existing medical conditions were neurological, rather than respiratory. I was young, (comparatively speaking, even if I was officially closer to 40 than 30) and I'd had both doses of the vaccine, plus a booster shot last December. I lived alone, in my own house, in a country with a good social security network and an ongoing temporary payment system for anyone who couldn't work from home while isolating. Friends and family lived nearby, close enough to do a quick shopping run for anything I might need.

I wore a mask while indoors at shopping centers and at TAFE, I avoided non-essential travel, particularly public transport. I social distanced, no matter how often strangers yelled at me for telling them to please back off. (Telling people I was working in the infectious unit got better results than saying I worked with vulnerable people) I carried hand sanitizer around in my purse, and used it regularly.

I'd been so careful.

I'd done everything right.

Why me?

On Saturday, March 12th, I attended a wedding.

I didn't socialize much; the bride was a friend of my partner and any familiar faces I only knew from the Kitchen Tea and Hen's Night.

The wedding took place in a small and very crowded Pavilion, followed by drinks while the official photographs were taken, and a five-course reception dinner, eight to a table. That meant that social distancing was basically impossible, and even the people who did wear masks took them off to eat and drink. At least a hundred people were in attendance.

You don't know how much I wish I'd begged off in favor of a small games night with friends...

Sunday was spent at home recovering from the late night and social burn-out.

Monday I had a single 1-hour shift and a six-hour day studying at TAFE.

Tuesday I woke up with a slightly dry and scratchy throat, which I attributed to sleeping with my mouth open on a early-Autumn night. Same routine as Monday.

Around 11, I had the chance to check Facebook for any status updates, and saw that someone else who attended the wedding was being tested for COVID. Well, crap. About half an hour after that, my Partner messaged me to say that she had symptoms and was going to get a test.

Double crap.

Well, I'd already been in the classroom for almost four hours, so anyone there that day was already exposed. I was nearly finished the day's assignments, so I'd go and get a PCR test immediately after that.

I lucked out in being able to afford RAT tests, but that didn't mean I liked or was good at administering them to myself.

As an essential worker, I usually had a pretty good turnaround on negative tests, so the longer I waited, the more worried I got.

I spent the rest of the afternoon sending off emails. To the person I was supposed to be sharing my bookstall with; a warning and asking if they wanted to do the stall without me (I had all the equipment, but they could probably beg something from friends at short notice). To the person I was supposed to be working with the next morning; telling them that I was waiting for the test results, and they needed to monitor for symptoms, just in case. To my TAFE Instructors; warning them that I would be off sick (the horror: some of the other students might actually have to answer questions for once!) and a request for what material we would be covering.

Then I settled in to wait for the most nerve-wracking 16 hours of my life.

Late on Tuesday night, my partner messaged to say that they'd received a positive result. I missed it, already being asleep at that point. On Wednesday evening, I received the notification that I was also positive, here are the instructions for your self-isolation period.

I wanted to cry.

I'd spent the last two years paranoid about catching the Coronavirus. I'd been so careful. It takes me weeks to fully shake a normal cold; COVID had the potential to be so much worse.

I'd experienced a bit of muscle ache and a slight fever with my first vaccination.

I hadn't expected 'muscle pain' to include my facial muscles. It wasn't enough that I could barely limp across the hallway to the bathroom and my throat was on fire, but my face had to get in on the action too? Sweats and chills I'd expected, and coughing myself awake every other hour. The brain-fog and headache was particularly annoying, since it meant that I couldn't even focus enough to do any of my usual quiet activities like embroidery or writing.

I managed a short email to my family on Wednesday night, and I'm blaming the brain-fog for titling it "Nobody Panic...". Honestly, I just couldn't think of anything else that wouldn't make them panic more.

I made things Facebook Official the next day, Thursday, and was promptly inundated with get well wishes and offers to do shopping runs for anything I needed.

I'd already put in an online grocery order, but I promised to keep them in mind if I ran low on tissues or toilet paper. I tend to cook in bulk and freeze things, so I had a freezer full of Taco Mince and Vension Stew, plus a few chicken fillets and pastries, if I managed to muster up the energy to actually operate my oven.

Mum came by with orange juice, lemons, honey and most of a rye sourdough loaf, because she'd got hungry while shopping, but since she was going to visit my sister and the grandkids over the weekend, didn't want to leave it in the house by itself. This was explained in a semi-shout from opposite ends of the driveway, so she could see that I wasn't dead, but didn't get close enough to risk infection.

I had enough energy to use my electric juicer to fill an ice-cube tray with lemon juice and freeze it, which meant that I could pop a few lemon ice cubes out to mix with honey and hot water, alternating with mulled ribena and orange juice in an attempt to flood my immune system with Vitamin C.

By Friday, I'd regained a little of my appetite, enough to have a slice of sourdough with banana and peanut butter for breakfast, and a pie for lunch/dinner. The entire day was spent sipping on mug after mug of honey-lemon water more or less constantly, and messaging my partner who was likewise bedridden.

At least misery had company.

I also managed to video-call my dad, and a friend from Canberra. I expect to be making a lot more of those calls over the next week, to keep myself from going nuts with boredom and no-one to talk to. Perhaps I should make a list...

At the end of the seven days of self-isolation, I'll have to get another test. If that turns up negative, I'm free to go, but will have to stay masked for a further seven days. If I'm still positive, it's back into lockdown for another week, repeat ad infinitum until I get a negative.

Here's hoping...

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