It took more than two years, but finally the virus we have been running from arrived in our home.
I guess we shouldn’t be surprised, “Everyone will get it eventually,” experts claim.
On Tuesday (April 19) my husband said, “I feel weird.”
By Wednesday he had a bad cold. He was convinced that was all it was, but wore a mask just in case.
I was ready for this. I had picked up two boxes of home COVID tests at London Drugs because I was once a Girl Guide and knew too, ‘be prepared.’
My daughter, who is a nurse, tested us because she knows how to get the best snot. The swab went up our noses, we both winced.
“That’s nothing compared to how deep I used to go,” she said.
Phew, glad we didn’t have to test in the old days.
We hovered around my husband's test tray.
“It’s like waiting for a pregnancy test,” I joked.
The result was instant, in a few minutes the line went dark green. He was positive.
My results came next, I was negative. How could that be? We had taken a short trip to Victoria over Easter weekend and were inseparable.
It’s true we let our guard down at restaurants, bars, and shops. It was our first getaway in two years and we thought we could breathe a little.
No need to panic. We’ve been triple vaccinated I reminded myself. Yet COVID effects everyone differently, and long COVID is a possibility.
Last Thursday and Friday were rough, but by Saturday my husband turned a corner.
On Sunday he just had a bad cough and fatigue.
I wondered how I could thank those faceless scientists who designed a vaccine that had prevented him from getting seriously ill. He was one of the lucky ones to slide through COVID unscathed.
I thought of the early days of the pandemic when people all over the world were dying in the thousands. Hospitals were begging for ventilators. Loved ones died alone.
It’s easy to forget when today we can relax a bit and we know vaccines will protect most of us from visiting the ICU.
Now we can test at home, treat the virus like a cold or flu, and return to work after five days. I am forever grateful.
The sixth wave is upon us. Stay diligent my friends because chances are it will come knocking on your doorstep too.
Ingrid Abbott is a freelance writer who is returning to wearing her mask in public places.
