Encounters with Covid

Having somehow managed to escape the dreaded Covid-19 for more than two years (more by luck than judgement, although to be fair, I wasn't having parties, sorry, work meetings, during lockdown), I guess it was always going to get me in the end.

And while I would very much like to be out soaking up the atmosphere of the Commonwealth Games in Birmingham and catching up with friends visiting for that purpose, if it was going to get me this summer it was, on balance, probably the best timing I could have hoped for: I'd have been devastated if it had struck during refugee week or before the opera, and I should be well clear of infection before I am due to go away on holiday; and hey, I can lie on the sofa in my pyjamas watching wall-to-wall commonwealth games coverage without feeling as guilty about it as I would in other circumstances. All in all it definitely could have been worse.

Having woken at 5am feeling shivery and with a sore throat, on Thursday morning I knew I should do a test before heading out. Despite the fact that, at that point, I felt ok, the dreaded second red line didn't really surprise me. I figured that I'd have some commonwealth games watching, but also the opportunity to catch up on some long overdue admin as I sat out a few days of isolation. I exchanged messages with my colleague about arrangements for the day, and let a few people know I had finally succumbed.

It wasn't long before the middle-of-the-night paracetamol had worn off and I discovered that I was going to be in no fit state to do any admin or, in fact, anything much at all. By late morning I was back in bed and slept on and off all day. I woke up sufficiently to relocate to the sofa for the fabulous spectacle of the commonwealth games opening ceremony.

There followed two days of lying on the sofa in my pyjamas in front of whichever sports the BBC chose to throw at me because even selecting which stream I might most want to watch felt like a lot of effort. I don't think I have ever experienced exhaustion quite like it, where even the smallest of tasks feels like really hard work. I did manage to do some washing up on Friday evening but even just standing up for that long wiped me out and I genuinely needed to sit down and recover.

Today is day four and the fact that I feel up to writing this is an indication I am now well on the road to recovery. I'm not back to full strength but certainly have some energy back, about which I am both very glad and very relieved ... because I don't think I am very good at being ill. I have, fortunately, had very little practice. I guess the next trick is to not immediately overdo it and so give myself the chance to properly recover.

I still might get some of that overdue admin ticked off before isolation ends, and I am still optimistic that I will be out and about enjoying some of the Commonwealth Games atmosphere soon, but for today I'm going to appreciate walking to the kitchen to make a cup of tea not feeling like a massive effort.