Covid Exposure Is Way Worse Than Covid Fatigue

When Covid first hit, I didn’t believe it was a thing. I could not wrap my head around the idea that a virus could shut down a city, much less the world. That kind of thing happened in third-world countries, but not in America. I posted on Facebook asking if I was crazy or was everyone else over-reacting? My friend Deborah assured me I was crazy, then went on to provide news articles and statistics as to why this was a real threat and I should pull my head out of my own…sand.

So, I got careful. I wore my mask. I stayed home. I used hand sanitizer. And then I got bored and there was an opportunity to volunteer with a charity doing work in North Nashville. I still took precautions, but I was out and about. I went to the grocery. We went out to dinner once that was an option. I went to water aerobics. I was careful, but summer was coming. Surely it would be better soon.

Evans and I went to Colorado for the summer. The trip out was enlightening as to where people wore masks and where they did not. In Crested Butte, which was hit tragically hard at the start of the pandemic, positive rates are very low. Almost everyone wears their masks (unless they are from Texas and have a great deal of money. I wish I was making that up.) We wore our masks, used our hand sanitizer, and had a fairly normal summer, just one without concerts, street fairs, festivals, or parties.

We did not get Covid, but I had a bad case of Covid-fatigue. Covid-frustration. Covid-depression. We stayed in more than normal. Our elderly dog almost died and required a great deal of care so that was distressing and demanding. Colorado was still beautiful, but I didn’t enjoy it like I knew I should. It is safe to say I was not my best self.

If you read this blog regularly, you know that there has not been a blog to read since August. When friends asked me to write I said there was nothing funny, clever, or even awkward about slogging through a pandemic. Writing that makes me realize what a self-pitying downer I was/am/have been.

So, now we are home and heading into the holidays. Evans is back in Colorado for what should have been a hunting trip, but it’s 2020 so that didn’t happen. I helped a close friend get ready for a move. We spent a lot of time together, especially because she is moving away. I saw her more in the last three weeks than I have all year. Aaaannnnddd, she has Covid. No, I did not wear my mask. Yes, I sat across from her and drank wine. No, I didn’t maintain six feet of distance. In my defense, I did not touch or hug her – which was very hard.

She called last week to tell me she was positive and I was exposed. I immediately called Langley and told her that since I was exposed, she was exposed. We began the desperate search for a Covid test on Veterans Day. We found one. Langley took it because she was banned from work until she had a negative test. I finally got a test the next day at Meharry. Langley got her test results on Friday and she was negative – YAY. Unfortunately, she could not go back to work until we had my test results. I finally heard Monday night at 9:30 that I too was negative. Langley was able to go back to work yesterday, but since I was exposed repeatedly, I have been housebound through the whole fourteen-day period.

I didn’t worry about Evans because he is in Crested Butte. He had a friend from here visit him last week. They had a blizzard so they did not do all the things they normally would do. Neither of them felt great, but thought it was just altitude and being tired and all the things we blame when we are puny. Our friend is home now and, since he didn’t rally when he got back to sea level, he had a Covid test. Yep. He’s positive. Tests in Gunnison County are not quite as plentiful as they are here in Nashville. The soonest Evans can be tested is tomorrow, Friday. He should have his results in three to five days. He is supposed to fly home on Monday.

I don’t think he has it. I pray he doesn’t have it. I’m scared he has it. Even if he tests negative, there is no guarantee that he will make that plane. He would never consider flying without a negative test result. His test results could come on Monday and his flight is out of Denver which is a four to five-hour drive from Crested Butte. It’s Thanksgiving week and the CDC just strongly cautioned people not to travel. So, if he dodged the first bullet, he is walking straight into a barrage of Covid sniper fire trying to get through three airports and flying on two airplanes.

I honestly don’t know whether to laugh or cry. For now, neither. There is literally nothing we can do but wait. I want Evans home, with me, safe and healthy. I want my family around my table on Thursday, but three of the eight people who should be there will have been on multiple airplanes within the last week. My brother has already begged off, as he should. I don’t yet know about my sister-in-law and nieces. Thanksgiving for three is not at all festive, but that maybe what we do this year.

I have a new respect for this virus. I will take all the precautions, decline the parties, wear the mask, wash my hands, stand six or more feet away. When Evans gets home, whenever that is, we will be careful together and no more traveling separately in airplanes. We will celebrate Thanksgiving somehow, someway, sometime. I welcome your prayers for quick answers, negative test results, full recovery for our friends, safe travel, and no new exposures. And, while I am still not my best self, I am committed to sharing the awkward and the fantastic more often.