Fashionably Late

That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.
—Friedrich Nietzsche

And Moshe cried unto the Lord, saying 'heal her now, O god, I beseech you'.... And Miriam was shut up outside the camp for seven days.
—Bamidbar 12:12-15

Be safe, be smart, be kind
—Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, Director General of the World Health Organization

I am a very punctual person. If I am more than five minutes late of being an hour early, I get nervous and anxious. 

But for this particular party, I was happy to be fashionably late. 
27 months ago, when the Coronavirus first hit the shores of the HolyLand, and we were in lockdown, I began to write about our adventures. They ranged in tone from light to silly, from thoughtful to anxious, from angry to grateful to joyous. I think I covered most of the emotions I felt over this last period of history. And there have been many. 

Over that time period, we were meticulous in keeping to the rules. We wore masks, over nose AND mouth; we washed our hands while humming the tune of Star Trek (de de dee, deede dede dee dee!); we never gathered in large groups; and I didn't stroll around any shopping malls. (Not to brag, but I hadn't been doing those last two for years. But hey) And believe me when I say that I pushed aside many a 90-year-old to be the first in line to be vaccinated. 

My household has been supremely lucky. We never had to quarantine, we didn't lose income, I didn't have to homeschool anyone or have small kids under my feet going crazy. The four of us in the house each had our own computers and space to binge watch any series we wanted. Except for the regular everyday anxiety, stress, and depression, we were very blessed.

 
We managed to stay safe and healthy, even when the numbers of infected skyrocketed this past winter to over 80,000 a day (almost 1% of the population of the country, each day became infected). Almost everyone we knew had caught the virus, some more than once. 

After 27 months, we finally succumbed last week. 

Fashionably late. 

After the Passover holiday, the Israel Ministry of Health declared the coronavirus crisis over, and that mask wearing was no longer mandatory except in health care institutes. I nonetheless continued wearing a mask in all public areas - supermarkets, public transportation, the bathroom at work. And I still avoided going anywhere unless absolutely necessary.  (again, not bragging.) But because nobody else was wearing a mask, and people were even ignoring symptoms and not taking precautions, we stood no chance. 

It started on the Shabbat immediately preceding the Shavuot holiday, with a Headache. My son, A, never gets headaches, but he got one that day. That Headache proved to be highly contagious. 

Covid is no joke. I know people who did not survive infection, others who suffer from symptoms months after the virus was no longer in their bodies. I know people who have lost loved ones, people who died weeks or months later from complications that were exacerbated by the virus. (On the other hand, I know nobody who suffered from lasting affects from the vaccinations, or from wearing a mask - though my Facebook feed would have one believe otherwise.) I do not make light of the disease, and I will be the last one to say that Covid is 'just a heavy cold'. 

And because I take medication for high blood pressure and eat too much chocolate, right from the beginning I understood that I was at risk for a lethal attack. 

When that Headache hit  A, I prepared to die. 

Spoiler - I didn't die. 
Spoiler 2 - It was like having a heavy cold. 

A couple of days after A had his headache, I beginning to feel a tiredness that even for me was unusually heavy. But I soldiered on. 

A home test coming out positive, I went to do a PCR test to confirm the results and receive official sick leave from work. 

I was given 5-7 days to stay home and be sick. 

And so I stayed home to be sick. 

I also did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, made lots of tea, and baked challot for Shabbat. 

And I never complained. 

I also don't mind being left alone to sit in the dark. See if I care. I just hope this cough doesn't make me burn the chicken. (cough cough HACK)

And from now on, any time I misplace the car keys, or forget why I came into a room, or don't get my colleague's jokes, it will be because of Long Covid. 

I'm covered for the next 25 years. 

Or at least until the next Pandemic.