Journal entry from 1.10.21
Covid-19.
It's here. In our home. Sucking our energy. Meddling with our plans. Sending up fevers, throwing up dinners, making our muscles ache, stealing the sweet from our brownies and the scent from our candles, fighting our bodies while we sleep.
But we're among the lucky ones.
It's not ravishing our lungs.
We're home. And at this point in my life I don't think I've ever actually seen a ventilator.
We watch movies. We play games. We read books. We study our scriptures. We compare symptoms and commiserate together. We drive ourselves to the testing drive-thru and we stick a cotton swabbed stick up our own noses. We can do all of this because we still have much of our health.
We're among the lucky ones.
I don't mean to be dramatic... I've said again and again that I never really feared contracting this virus for myself. I knew we were in a category with odds overwhelmingly in our favor. I expected it to feel like this.
Even so. Because of Covid, there are seats in our ward that will remain empty forever. There are friends crying and pleading for miracles.
We're among the lucky ones.
It's been seven days since symptoms first arrived. I'm tired. So tired. But I'm breathing deeply through my nose without a fight. My muscles are achy. But I'm walking myself everywhere I need to be. I'm sad about our cancelled trip to Hawaii. But we'll just postpone it.
We're among the lucky ones.
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