After lavishing praise on the staff at the ER, I got home only to wake up the next day with symptoms of Covid. I'd been exposed, I knew, to at least four people who announced they were positive. But there may have been more.
Symptom # 1 was that very nasty taste in my mouth. It isn't a loss of taste, it's a constant taste of -- inside of litter box?, ashes soaked in bleach?, burnt straw?, Oh I don't know. Whatever it is, it's terrible, and it's constant.
The next day, I started having other symptoms. Fever, cough, runny nose, dizzy, pains, sore throat. Huh. I got out one of the home tests and screwed it up. I did another one. Positive. Then I started calling about what to do. Not easy to find out, despite the fact that I'd been told months ago to call right away to get immediate treatment if I tested positive. It was after hours so none of the nurses and such I talked to knew what to do or who I should get in touch with to get treatment, and one steered me in a completely wrong direction. Finally, though, one recognized that there was probably an on-call physician in rheumatology who could help. Why didn't I try. So I did, and behold, within an hour, I had a prescription for Paxlovid, the anti-viral treatment of choice. Picked it up an hour later. Took it for five days, and it cleared most of the symptoms. But... Ms Che got it, and we went through the whole routine again with her provider.
Ten days on, I tested negative, she still has vague positive tests, and her provider says she may have them for months. As long as she has no new symptoms she's good to go.
Of course this happened because I went to the Urgent Care and ER where I was exposed, as was everyone else, including staff. It's insane. Or rather deliberate.
It's why I tried to stay out of the hospital for as long as possible.
But the time came and there you are. It eventually will get everyone.
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