“Come to the edge,” he said.
They said, “We are afraid.”
“Come to the edge,” he said.
He pushed them and they flew.” ©Guillaume Apollinaire
There’s such a comfort as you arrive at the town where you live. I’ve been living in this home for 29 years. I love the tranquility there is within every wall.
During the drive home, I started to feel chills. I wasn’t surprised. Sitting on a cold bench with the wind blasting your body could cause that. In the car, I decided that the minute I got home I’d take a hot bath and have a nap. I did.
I slept for 24 hours and didn’t know it. Hubby would come in but let me sleep. Finally, when I got up I was very weak. My head hurt but it wasn’t a headache. I felt nauseous but I wasn’t throwing up. I had severe muscle aches and I had a cough too. I thought I’d gotten a cold.
I take quite a few medications so I was hesitant to take any of the over-the-counter meds I have in my home medicine cabinet.
Two days later, with my symptoms getting worse, I conceded and took a liquid one. Then, some pills I had. In the meantime, hubby is down too and as weak as a weeping willow.
By the third day, he decided, he was calling for a doctor appointment. He wasn’t happy I didn’t want to go to the doctor. I’m allergic to all antibiotics except for one. Each time I go to the doctor he makes me aware of that and encourages me to wait until the last possible moment to request them.
By the sixth day, my cough was getting worse. I was having difficulty breathing. It felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest. The over-the-counter meds did nothing. Hubby was on antibiotics with no results. He went back for a different antibiotic. The doctor told him to stay away from me since he felt this was a very serious flu because he needed another prescription.
By the tenth day, I was coughing so hard it was difficult to catch my breathe; tears flowed and I had chest pain. My left side of my heart had enlarged a year ago so my cardiologist had done some surgery. I was at high risk.
I needed to see the doctor.
I’ve also had bronchial pneumonia three times and was hospitalized each time for that. I knew this cough was serious. I didn’t want to go to the hospital but if I had to go I’d go. I pleaded with the doctor when I saw him. I told him I’d been in bed and would continue to if need be. He gave me the antibiotic.
I did not get better.
Florida was getting a cold snap from up north. It was cold out. I didn’t want to venture out in it but the meds the doctor gave me weren’t working. I put on a jacket, wrapped myself up in my trusty forever-with-me scarf over my head, around my nose and mouth and off we went to the doctor again. His nurse called in a prescription for a cough medication and an antibiotic, he sent me for a chest x-rays and called my pulmonologist for a next-day appointment. The x-rays were sent directly to the pulmonologist.
She read them. She said my lungs had fluid. I guess I should add that I had pulmonary embolisms in 2006 from surgery I’d had three says prior. My lungs have severe damage because of that. She prescribed a different antibiotic. She felt the one I had been taking was for bacterial infections not viral infections like I had. It took another three weeks for me to get better. I had lived for six weeks with this illness.
The saga with COVID 19 and Me will continue … come on back for the next chapter …
Part 1 – COVID19 and Me
Part 2 – COVID19 and Me – Part 2
Part 3 – COVID19 and Me – Part 3
Part 4 – COVID19 and Me – Part 4