It Was Bound to Happen
“Is there anything that doesn’t happen to you?” Asked a friend of a friend.
Good question.
In the last eight months, I broke my foot, was rear ended at a stop light, and on Wednesday, I tested positive for COVID.
Given where I work, and what I do for a living, it was bound to happen. I’m surprised it took this long. I teach special education students who are in and out of the school, and the country. They travel to Mexico often. Students are absent for days or weeks and no one is sure if they are ill, ditching, or out of the country. And, the parents lie depending on what their childcare needs are.
My district has a mask mandate. However, sped students often wear their masks over their eyes, dangling from their ears, and I admit there are times when I must lower my mask so the students can see my lips and hear an unmuffled voice to understand me.
It has come to light that the Pfizer vaccine efficacy rate diminishes over time. I could have gotten a booster a couple of weeks ago, but I decided to wait until after my trip to New Mexico to visit my favorite hot springs with my daughter. I didn’t want to risk screwing up fall break. Now, I'm quarantined, alone, in my home, for twelve days. Shit!
Last Sunday evening I felt unusually exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. I was awake all night, restless, hot, cold, uncomfortable. In the morning, I had the worst hangover ever. I had not had a drop of alcohol. I dragged myself into work. Later in the day, after a two and a half hour meeting, I had trouble standing up from the small plastic chair, my leg muscles nearly paralyzed. And, a pounding headache. I had begun to experience fits of sneezing and my nose ran like a sieve. Inside my mask. Yuck!
I was barely able to drive myself home and collapsed into bed at 5:30 pm. At 3:00 am I woke shaking with chills, a stabbing pain in the middle of my back, and a throbbing ache in the face. Even my hair felt like it was on fire.
On Tuesday morning, if someone had offered me $1,000. cash to crawl from bed and go to work, I couldn’t have done it. I didn’t have the energy to scratch my own nose. There was nothing I could do, but sleep.
Finally, late afternoon I was able to get out of bed and make a cup of tea and toast. Which made me nauseous. I thought of the meeting I had attended the previous day.
If that was my last Monday afternoon on Earth, is that what I wanted to be doing? Hell, no.
I took Tylenol and naturopathic muscle relaxers and went back to bed to try to sleep it off. I was in agony.
Wednesday morning I was able to rouse myself and drove to work with the sole intention of getting a COVID test. The health aide administers rapid result tests to students and staff. Not a surprise, twenty minutes later, I was asked to leave the building immediately and not come back for twelve days. Oh, and the district is out of COVID funds, so I’m using my own sick days.
Thank you for mismanaging funds Governor Ducey.
I did my own contact tracing. I called friends, family, and anyone I could remember being with for the last week. So far, no positive results.
People have been really thoughtful. Food delivered, flowers, and good advice. One really smart friend suggested I get the Monoclonal Antibodies Infusion.
Anytime the word infusion is used, it means it is expensive. This cocktail is around $2,100 according to Healthline.com.
As it turns out, Monoclonal Antibodies Infusion was one of the cutting edge treatments used to save Donald Trump’s life. My recollection is that he came out of his COVID illness a bigger A-hole than ever. One year ago, on October 10th, Trump said, “the virus was no big deal, and there was no reason to be afraid of it.” And, “the pandemic was disappearing.”
He forgot that most Americans don’t have access to Marine One helicopter, Walter Reed Hospital, thousands of dollars in experimental drugs, and an entire team of medical experts.
Trump did recover and then to tried to over throw the U.S. Government. The same government that spent thousands of dollars trying to save his obese ass.
The COVID-19 Monoclonal Antibody Infusion is man-made proteins, developed in a lab to fight the virus. It has been shown to decrease symptoms, lessen chances of hospitalization, and perhaps prevent some of the reported “long-haul” effects of the virus. The FDA has granted emergency use authorization for patients with mild to moderate cases of COVID.
Sign me up!
My doctor wrote the order, the clinic called and scheduled the appointment. I was fortunate to get a slot. The Abrams COVID Infusion Clinic is the only game in town. They see around thirty patients a day. The IV procedure takes two hours. Thirty minutes for the medication, the wash, and an hour of close monitoring by a nurse who did not leave the room. It’s a well oiled machine.
I could have used that Marine One helicopter. The drive to and from South Tucson did me in.
My goal is simple. I want to be able to stay off the couch for 20 minutes at a time.
The good news is that I don’t need to worry about another COVID-19 booster for 90 days. Not until January 6th. The first anniversary of Mr. Trump’s insurrection.
An event that had been in the works since he lost the election to President Biden, and was bound to happen.
