We now can describe the symptoms of COVID-19 from first-hand experience. In our case they are quite similar to the symptoms of a severe cold—chest congestion, sore throat, coughing, headache, chills, body aches, nasal congestion, and general malaise, among others. Two recently-purchased COVID-19 tests verified the diagnosis mi novia had suspected. Local authorities correctly continue their strong warnings to stay off the roads due to black ice, so getting out to buy medicines is out of the question…I am not sure whether any over-the-counter medications would have much of an effect on calming the symptoms, anyway. Fortunately, the fact that we’ve both been vaccinated, along with getting available boosters, probably keeps the symptoms far less threatening and dangerous than they might be in the absence of vaccinations. Ah, but give it time; Kennedy and his lunatic pseudo-scientist friends probably will make vaccines illegal…and getting a vaccination will become a felony punishable by death. In the interim, we will do our best to suffer through the symptoms until they pass. According to a Google search AI overview, the duration of symptoms vary depending on the severity of the infection: 1-2 weeks for mild cases, 2-4 weeks for moderate cases, and weeks or months for severe cases. I am hoping for mild…which would mean just another week-plus of dealing with these damn symptoms. Until learning that the COVID test was positive, I was not especially concerned about the likelihood that my immune system has been compromised by my chemotherapy. That possibility suddenly gave me a reason to be conscious of a sinister new worry. But the symptoms have been apparent for several days, so I figure my compromised immune system would have opened me up to the worst of it by now. Whether that is just my self-protective attitude rising to the occasion or a legitimate obstacle to worst-case disease, I’ll take it. Who needs to worry about something that’s already happened, that cannot be undone? Not me, if I can help it.
+++
Nightmares. They lately have become more common intrusions into my sleep. Frequently, they have involved getting separated from friends and/or family, then realizing we were planning to meet somewhere miles away…but some of us had no transportation to get there. And “there” was an unknown place…a town that had once been small but had grown into a monstrous metropolis jammed with drunken revelers. None of us had an address to look for, only a town name. In one case, it was a place to which my late sister said she would walk, but I realized it was at least 15 mile away and she was in no condition to walk that far. I wonder how many versions of this dream I have had? I have awakened several times in a state of intense worry; even after shaking off the fact that it was “just a dream,” the artificial experience was enough to keep me on edge for hours.
+++
Nationalism is a disease. I’m convinced of it. It is a mental disorder in which the sufferer is inexplicably enamored with a geographically concentrated group of people whose characteristics normally would spark disdain or worse…but who, instead, engender respect and appreciation. Moreover, sufferers view opponents of those normally unappealing people as broken; enemies who must be subjugated and forced to worship them. I am not doing a good job of describing either group. I know who they are, though. And I am ready to expose them for what they are, when the time is right.
+++
It’s almost 7. Where has the day gone?
