persist

I am recovering from Covid after a month of having a head cold, a cough, and lost of taste and smell. I had a slight fever and a few body aches in the beginning, but that subsided quickly. Due to the Graft vs Host Disease from the donor transplant, my airways are a little blocked and Covid exacerbated that condition. Just getting up to shower and eat breakfast was exhausting.

At my lowest point, I didn’t look forward to getting up at all. I missed participating in the Jewish High Holidays, had to cancel an anniversary trip with my husband at a nearby resort, cancel a concert, and drop a writing class at UCLA. In August we talked about traveling to New York, Israel and Spain, but I knew I wasn’t quite strong enough. So we settled on smaller goals and even those were scrapped. Covid showed up in early October and lingered for weeks.

There were times I felt well enough to hang outside— It was still warm during the day and the night, but mosquitos bit me mercilessly, even while I slept. There were always at least two and they worked as a team. One buzzed around my ear and the other ones bit me from my cheekbone down to my big toe. At night I scratched, coughed, drank lots of water, visited the bathroom, and shook off foot cramps. In the morning, instead of reaching for my meditative books and expressing gratitude, I’d survey my body to see how many more bites I got overnight. At most I had 20 little raised red marks that ran haphazardly down my thighs, legs, ankles and feet. One morning I discovered a big bite on my pubic bone! I scratched them all and then scratched everywhere else as if to “prime” a new area for the next bite.

After my readings in bed, I’d drag myself to the shower/bath and do another insect survey: count the number of ants crawling along the sliding door, in the tub and on the counter where I keep my pill boxes. I’d splash water in my eyes first because they were so dry and then splash water everywhere else. I’d get in the shower and knock down all the toiletries looking for those buggers who hid behind the bottles and turn the shower water and spray the bathroom floor. They were exclusive to my bathroom only. They never turned up anywhere else in the house.

Since I couldn’t taste or smell for the first few weeks, I craved potato chips and bacon for breakfast—at least I could taste the salt. Ice cream was cold and smooth and I could sense the sweetness on the edge of my tongue. Hot salty chicken noodle soup from a can was satisfying as long as I could noisily slurp the noodles.

After three weeks of being sick, I stubbornly acknowledged I needed some medical intervention and got daily IV infusions of remesdivir from City of Hope. Of course I improved quickly, and now I am Covid free.

Still though, I am gathering back strength from lack of sleep and lack of oxygen. I have to climb back up the hill again. Finding the bright spots in my life as I recover have been extra challenging. My brain is a tug of war between accepting limitations while dreaming up ambitious new plans. I am trying to sort it all out and reach for more help. My family and friends and the support staff at COH have been a lifeline and I cannot express how much they’ve done for me.

At least my taste and smell have returned. I can enjoy my favorite meal of the day: breakfast. As I heartily eat my eggs and drink my creamy coffee, my nose has awakened to the scent of putrid rich dark manure that the gardeners put down all over the front and back yard!

There is still one mosquito that buzzes around me at night and new ants return every morning, even though I drown them. They persist, and like them, I must persist. They refuse to give up and so I must do the same.

I’ll scratch my way up that rocky peak and lug a bag of oxygen if I have to. Please God don’t make me struggle to breathe. In return, you can plague me with a million ants in my path. I’ll march along with them.