Covid Journal Day 8

Covid 19 - Day 8

This will be relatively short. 

First, I'm writing these for neither sympathy or attention, but to unscientifically describe what this illness is like in case you are so fortunate to join the growing statistical category of Covideers (TM). Also, in case Michael Chrighton wants to write a book about it, I just called dibs on that word. Please call my attorney. 

To be clear: I'm no where near the terrible stories you've hears on the news, hospitalized, unfunctional, intubated, in a coma. I'm managing, functioning reasonably well. 

I have the continued symptoms of fatigue and stuffy head. My taste is slightly improving. I licked my arm...yes, definitely I taste better. Kidding...kidding. 

If you've ever recovered from a bad flu, thats how I feel: just drained. The bad stuff is gone - even the cough has almost disappeared. I woke up this morning and felt great. I was thinking about going outside and tinkering in the shop while it was "cool." I got some things done to prep for Sunday service in my absence, sent some emails, and read for an hour. I grabbed a shower, shaved and generally felt human.

By 10am it was like someone popped the plug in my basin of energy. I grilled some dogs for lunch and my arms felt like those two one pound packages were lifting whole beef shoulders. I ate lunch and by 1 I was kicked back on the couch and dozed until almost 3. I've been awake since then but am still tired. I'm not going back to sleep, though, so maybe I can sleep tonight. Hope ever lingers. 

Funny thing is I'm starving. I talked with a friend who lost 8 pounds during her stay in Covidland. I, on the other hand, could go on auto-graze without any problem. It wouldn't taste like much, but such is life. I don't care either: carrots or cake, burgers or bok-choy, taters or pop tarts, it all is tempting. 

I promised this would be short, so I'll wrap for now. Again, please know I'm not trying to be an attention hog or a sympathy sponge...just telling a bit of a story for those who might want to know, "How bad is it?" Or "What's it like?" Official score: 1-10 rating

Fun: one star
Frustration: ten stars
Inconvenience: nine point five stars
Humbling: eight stars
Fear/worry/concern: eight, rapidly falling to two after getting under care.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Hero's Welcome for DDG-109

Image
Today, we welcomed home the USS Jason Dunham, DDG-109, and her crew of 300, give or take, after 9 months deployed. It was a scene rich in emotion as other ships blew their horns, tug boats sprayed water arcing into the air, and family members lined the pier cheering, waving, and calling sailors by name.  My wife and I were there among the throng. Dressed in everything from dress whites to cut-offs and Tshirts, the crowd waited to welcome our loved ones back to terra firma .  For a few moments, as the sailors came by, I was surrounded by heroes. I suspect if you asked them, they would not want that label. "Just doing our job," or some equally nebulous answer was probably repeated more than once. But the Combat Action Ribbons and the black-painted outlines of the enemy weapons - drones and missiles - the ship and her helos shot down all tell a different story. You don't get a CAR for getting a paper cut. You don't paint those outlines on the side of a ship f...
Read more

Moving on...literally

Image
Last evening, with the "thunk" of the deadbolt, we left the house that we called home for the last eight years.  On June 7, 2017, we arrived, fresh from the Houston metro area. I spent the night in the house with our three cats, sleeping on an air mattress and sitting in a folding camp chair. Laura and the kids spent the night in a hotel in Cuero. That night, I wrote one of my first blog posts saying that we were in a new house which had not yet become a home.  It did, very quickly, become that very thing: a home. Not just a parsonage - an old term for the church-provided dwelling for the pastor and family - but a home. It was comfortable, quiet, and country. We loved, laughed, cried, cussed. We yelled in anger and whooped with joy. Since we have been married, every home we lived in - apartment or house - we added to the family. It happened there, too: Reese, the Wonder Dog, the Goofball, Super Puppers, she became part of our family. Slightly less significant than a new baby ...
Read more

The Place I Like Least

Image
There are places that I love. My mom's kitchen, my back porch, my shop, sitting next to my wife, and the church sanctuary are easily in my top ten. Those places fill me with joy, peace, happiness and a sense of, well, being . Maybe a better word is abiding . Abiding comes out of Old English and means waiting, remaining, resting. When I am in those places and with those people, I am content to abide and simply be there.  There are also places I don't like. I don't like banks. I don't like chicken coops. I despise with all my being serpentariums - snake houses. I don't much care for oncology units; multiply that times 10 to the 23rd for children's hospitals. Dentist's chairs? No thanks. Oddly enough I don't mind funeral homes or emergency rooms: I have enough pastoral experience that those don't instill the same level of personal dislike they used to. I dislike those for different reasons - they are places where the brokenness of God's creation is ...
Read more