Long Covid.

I googled long covid everyday for a while. I guess I thought it would help. Maybe give me a way to stop it. But it’s been a year and all I can do is list way too many stats.

100 million people globally have long covid.

11 million Americans have long covid.

2 million in the U.K.

1 in my house.

Good for cocktail parties. Terrible for my health. Because it doesn’t matter. These numbers don’t tell you the cure. These numbers don’t give you the solution. These numbers don’t change the reality. That I’m sitting here in bed with a headache that hasn’t gone away for 2 days and I can barely sit up or think. Just feel. And feel. And feel like shit.

I’m exhausted. Even though last week I wasn’t. But the week before I was. And the month before I was. But the month before I wasn’t. But the 6 months before I was. That doesn’t make sense and it shouldn’t. Because long covid doesn’t make sense.

Once you feel like you have a knack for it, it hits you with something else. It becomes something else. Bigger. Scarier. Because you thought you could control it and yet here is a fresh monster in front of you that you haven’t seen before. Your old tricks aren’t working anymore. This one will tear you down into little pieces like a high school bully only leaving a shell. Again and again and again. I am a shell of who I was. I miss her.

But she’s not here. This new person’s body is a battleground trying to figure out what it is today. Is it a cold? Is it covid? Is it the flu? Is it long covid? Is it anxiety? Is it depression? Is it long covid? Is it long covid? Is it long covid…. or is it just… me? Yes, it’s long covid… Yes?

What does it mean when I can’t get up for a run but exercise is supposed to help?

What does it mean when I can’t get out of bed when I have a meeting in 5 minutes and no more sick days?

What does it mean that I can finish writing this piece and fall asleep for 6 hours even though I just woke up after a “full night’s rest?”

Eat this. Take that. Scan this. Do that. Do this. I can’t keep up with all the advice, changes to diet, regulated sleep schedules, doctor appointments, ‘OOO for a sick day’ emails. I can’t keep up because after all of this, I still don’t know what works. Do they know?

What does it all mean?

Can we beat this? Will we beat this? Will I not even remember this year of chronic illness in 5 years? Will I be worse in 5 years? Will I be dead in 5 years?

What does it all mean?

The doctors can’t tell me. The therapists can’t tell me. Friends. Family. Myself. No one knows the answer. So what do I do? What do we do?

In group therapy, almost half of us are there because of long covid. I guess it’s supposed to make you feel better or something. I don’t know if that’s the case, but I’ve only been one time. During our 1 hour of guided communication, a boy said, “Long covid feels like mourning your old self. Like they passed away and you’ll never get them back.” I agreed. I just wish I had added that I really liked who I was and I didn’t want her to die.