It Happens To Me

 For more than two years, I have kept myself safe and clear of COVID. That all ended this past week when I at last became the lucky recipient of the plague. 

There is a lot of speculation around our house about who got what when, but I will not rule out the cat. What frustrates me most is the number of times I was sure that I was going to get that second stripe on my rapid test, but there was none forthcoming. Yea though I walked through the valley of germs, I received no evil. I worked at an elementary school where I waded through snotty noses and coughs with an air of invulnerability. While others went down and out and stayed in quarantine for days at a time, I kept showing up, certain that one of those two tests a week would come back positive. "Pull your mask up," was the phrase that pays in the hallways and classrooms, and even the playground as we made every effort to keep us all safe and disease free. 

When my wife got her symptoms, and then her extra stripe on her test, we sent her to her room and spent the next few days shouting at one another through the door. We took our meals separately. We delivered supplies while we both wore masks and played a game that felt like we had things under control. A game that pretty much discounted the week we spent hanging around with each other after she returned from Italy, where COVID is an international symbol of friendship. 

So, I have a couple of takeaways: First of all, I am relieved that this did not take place while school was in session. If I am going to loll about my house watching Netflix and reruns of NFL games from last year, this would be the best time for it. Second, I spent a few days at Disneyland in late June and managed to steer clear of all manner of phlegmy things. My son and I were hyper-vigilant about masking even though our fellow visitors at the House of Mouse seemed to be less concerned. 

It wasn't until I got home and the streams of Southern California and Europe were mixed that the door finally caught me on the way out. My symptoms have not been debilitating, but the blow to my ego has been somewhat catastrophic. I am now part of a club that I never wanted to have me as a member. I have made a life's work out of not succumbing to peer pressure, and suddenly I find myself on the ground floor, looking up. 

Here is the best news: This is 2022. My current illness is an annoyance, and even though I took all the shots and precautions that I might have, I feel frustrated. I don't feel like I am going to die. I look forward to the story I can write about recovering from COVID.