Do you remember when I first thought I was infected that I didn’t think there would be any real value in getting a positive affirmation that I had COVID? I was wrong. Here’s the good thing about getting a positive result when you’re already sick: it’s validating as hell.
I knew I was sick. Nobody in my life accused me of faking it. Yet, there was some tiny, weird, inescapable doubt in the darker corners of my mind that maybe this was all in my head or nobody believed me. After all, there are a lot of things in my head. It’s stuffed to the gyri. Also, I use a lot of magical thinking while simultaneously wishing we lived in a world filled with magical realism.
So, I’m feeling pretty validated, which isn’t something I expected.
In more boring updates, I’m still sick. I told a friend today that after feeling a little better yesterday, today is a surprise end-credits scene. I took a step backwards on the health continuum, and I am not a fan. I just want my brain and my lungs and my throat back. I’m at that point where I’m not quite sick enough to feel justified in lazing about the house and yet not healthy enough to go about my usual business.
The one good thing that is happening is my senses of taste & smell are slowly returning. I can kind of taste most of my food and smell it. However, I can’t yet smell my delightful lilac perfume, and that is the goal.
I know all this is super boring. I have some thoughts about that Frank Turner song I mentioned the other day, and I’m obsessed with Hanya Yanagihara’s new book Paradise, but I don’t have the mental fortitude to think about things other than how I’m feeling and “Bob’s Burgers,” which is playing on repeat at my house.
Soon though, Darling Ones, tomorrow I’m making soup and that might be what brings my brain back to life.