One year and one day since I tested positive for Covid.

Yesterday, it was one year ago since I was tested positive for Covid, and I entered a three week period of sickness.

I remember it vividly. How weak I was feeling. How much I slept. How much blood I lost, because my nose decided to start bleeding. I was one of the rare cases where covid provoked nose bleeds. How my dreams were terrifying.

The first six days were spent in bed. Not a lot to eat, and not a lot to drink either. When I did eat, I ate multi-grain bread, and when I drank, it was either water or OJ/apple juice. No soda. Mainly because I didn't have the strength to open up a bottle or a can. Yes, I was extremely weak. I had to get my brother to do my food shopping, and then place it outside my front door, for me to come and collect it when he was at a safe distance. During those six days, I also developed diarrhea. 99% of the time, I would make it before it went bad, but 1% of the times, that weren't the case. I also experienced my first ever fever dreams. I wish I hadn't. The majority of them were terrifying. I am not easy to scare, but those dreams were.. Well, they were scary. They all started the same - in black and white. With a voice calling my name. In one of the dreams, one voice said "The next time you fall asleep, it will be your last. We are waiting for you."

A few of the dreams involved my family, where they were out to kill me with knives. It was so unpleasant, that I really didn't want to sleep, because I feared that I wouldn't wake up again.

Thankfully, a few days later, I was over the worst part, however I developed post-acute sequela. I was beginning to feel stronger, though, but I was still dizzy, and when I breathed in deeply, my chest hurt. I called my doctor and explained the symptoms, and she told me, that it was normal to develop post-acute sequela after a covid infection. I had to relax, and take it slow. The sequela would go away, but my doctor wasn't able to say when. It would be weeks before I was feeling back to normal.

This is where the blog gets a bit personal.

The following days were spent getting better. I also cleaned up after myself, because I had so many things on the floor, because I was too weak to go downstairs with them. Clothes were on the floor. Bowls were filled with bloody rags and underwear that had to be thrown away. Whenever I came back into my room, I had that distinctive metallic smell of blood in the air, so I decided to open up the window. Two weeks of not opening the window a single time, really made the air smell bad.. When I say bad, I mean baaad! A mix of blood and fecal matter. I was embarrassed by myself. It was the lowest I had ever felt. It got so bad that I just sat down on my bed and started to cry. I had just experienced two of the worst weeks I have ever had. A few minutes later, I pulled myself together, and I wiped my eyes, collected all the trash in a bag and placed it by my door.

A few days later, I was given the all clear to go outside again, so I took the trash bag by my door and threw it away. My phone buzzed. It was my then-roomie. "It's your brothers fault that you infected us all with covid".. I had no time or desire to deal with it, so I wrote him a reply back.. Admittedly, I probably went a bit OTT, but I wrote back an answer. I don't remember the exact wording, but it was along the lines of "Listen, what happened happened. If you were able to see past your own nose, you'd probably see that others were having it worse than you were having it". I probably wrote something more than that, but I have deleted the messenger thread, so I am unable to see the exact wording I sent to him.

It was after that, that I began to look for other accommodations, and less than three months later, I moved. If you think that went off without a hitch, think again. But that's a story for my next blog.

Today, I am feeling better than I ever have before!