My first thought when I looked at the two lines showing on the Covid rapid antigen test was, “I am triple vaccinated! How did I get Covid?”
I had taken every precaution. Yes, I had gone to a grocery store, I had gone to church, but everyone was masked. No close contact. I sanitized, washed my hands, basically I had done everything right, short of locking myself in my house, and I was now sick with Covid. Government health officials in Alberta had said to expect that one in three people would get this new variant: Omicron. The sci-fi named variant now had me in its grip.
It had started with a sore throat, then a bad cough and sinus cold. When the symptoms included a migraine, some friends dropped off a rapid test to “rule out Covid-19”. It was negative. I was so relieved. “Just a bad cold,” I thought. Two days later, the symptoms, along with the constant cough, now included joint pain, fatigue, and a host of other unpleasantness that refused to abate. I phoned my daughter who suggested taking another antigen test.
It was positive.
Did I mention my husband was out of town? He was supervising a seismic project way up in northern Alberta, so I was alone. I was scared. I was sick. I was cold.
Oh, I forgot to also mention …the old boiler that had been heating our home for the past forty years died. The day after testing positive for Covid, I was dealing with having to line up plumbers, trying to figure out how to isolate and deal with people at the same time. I was overwhelmed. I coughed out a feeble “help me!” prayer to God.
In tears, I texted my oldest daughter, Laurelle. Within a half an hour, she had mobilized her two siblings into action. Masked up, my son, Brett came over immediately and lit a fire in the fireplace for me. While he was doing that, Laurelle had phoned a plumber and she was ready to meet him at the house, while I isolated upstairs in my room. The plumber managed to resuscitate the boiler, and perform a bandaid fix on it until we could replace it in the Spring. That evening, my youngest daughter, Carmen delivered two bags of groceries to my door. I was still sick, but I was warm, well-fed, and their acts of service in my time of need showed I was well loved. When they shared news of my testing positive for Covid on prayer chains, phone calls, and offers of help poured in from my church family. It overwhelmed me.
I am on day eleven since the symptoms started. I retested again yesterday and it’s still positive. So, I will stay isolated a little longer. The cough still lingers as well as the fatigue, but I can feel myself coming out of the fog.
My husband phones me two to three times daily, checking up on me. My kids do the same. I’ve binge-watched more Television series than I can count. I’ve spent time in the Word, and hours praying. Every day I hear another friend downed by Covid. Thankfully, most have managed to avoid being hospitalized. I am grateful I have managed to avoid hospitalization too. I credit being fully vaccinated for that.
It’s been a challenging start to 2022, but I’m POSITIVE it will get better!