Day 1,376

I’ve stared so intently at so many rapid antigen tests over the last few years, trying to discern if an impossibly faint second line was present, that I was entirely unprepared for how crystal clear my first positive result would be.

Covid-19 finally came for me on December 2, 2023, with aches, severe sinus congestion, and an obnoxious cough fully materializing three days later. Since all this arrived on the heels of a negative test and another persistent cough that had been badgering me for two weeks, it didn’t even occur to me to test again until after my third full day of symptoms, at which point that unmistakable second line appeared. So I only did two of what should have been five days in proper isolation, and while I didn’t go out and subject the public to my plague, L got plenty of exposure at home, and by the time my symptoms were receding, hers were just getting started. Thankfully she didn’t get hit too hard, and she was feeling better and testing negative again before I was.

Now I’m dealing with a leftover post-nasal drip-induced cough, so today makes five full weeks of coughing, and I’m told to expect a few more. Apart from a cold I had back in April, this is the first time I’ve been sick in over four years, so I wish it would have gone a little easier on me, but especially after reading one person’s devastatingly detailed account of her experience with long Covid, I’m counting my blessings:

• My illness could have been much worse (thank you, vaccines!).
• I wasn’t currently in the middle of any client work, and I finished the latest issue of Plus Equals just before the worst of it.
• L took good care of me, and Veronica Mars kept me company.