Covid: The “Mayhem Guy”
Even though we were both “vaxxed to the max”, my husband and I still managed to contract Covid in early November of last year. I recently found a journal entry I wrote at the time, anthropomorphizing this unwelcome visitor. I’m sharing the entry here in the event any of you happen to be visited by this dude.
The night before Covid revealed himself, I’d left the windows in my bedroom ajar to allow fresh air in to wash away the stale, stinky, smells of an intolerably long summer. Maybe that’s how he got in?
Maybe it was when I let my guard down at the reception hosted by our new financial advisors. And, oh my gosh what a grand party it was, set in an architecturally spectacular venue, overlooking a lakeside park. All the crisp, cold white wine I could want. And I did want it. I kept going back for re-fills and flirting with the male and female bartenders, grateful for their focus. A Jazz combo nourished my ears as the delicious menu items nourished my body. I laughed and conspired with my friends. I felt free. “I’m having way too much fun,” I said to myself as I washed my hands observing my naked, maskless face in the mirror. Covid had previously made such occasions forbidden. Could I have somehow seen him lurking behind me in the bathroom mirror?
Two days after the party, I noticed his presence. He started out tickling my throat. I’m not sure of his point of entry but somehow my head became a body of water and my nose a faucet. My sinus cavities resembled the Hoover dam trying to control the battering moisture in my head.
I’d been dreading meeting this guy since March of 2020. He’s here I realized. It took two of those tests that require more hands than just two to verify his presence. After the first negative test, I found an N95 mask and went foraging for food. My go-to remedy is homemade chicken soup. My husband calls it “liquid gold”. it came in handy those first two days after the dark red T and C lines appeared on our rapid test kits.
He wasn’t quite as heinous as I had imagined, although the first two days of his visit resembled that of the “Mayhem Guy” on the Allstate Insurance commercials. There was definitely some bodily mayhem going on at the Kitchens’ casa. But after 48 hours, he pretty much vacated the premises. We quarantined for ten days, which wasn’t such a bad thing. I got several Christmas sewing projects completed and my husband devoted time to analyzing legislative results from the 2022 midterm elections.
“Oh well,” became our ten-day refrain. “Can’t go to the conference in Tampa? Oh, well, maybe next year.” Can’t go to Lake Mary to see a cousin’s soccer match? Oh well, I’ll FaceTime after the game.”
I hope our inhospitable and downright rude behaviors will discourage him from making any future visits, I grudgingly have to say, our “time out” gave us a much-needed pause before the onslaught of the holidays.