Now We Are Sick

So.  Apparently I started the self-isolation thing a little late, because I am now unwell.

It’s a common cold, so far as I can tell, proving that just because everyone’s talking about one virus doesn’t mean the others go on holiday.  I started coughing on Wednesday, which raised a modest amount of concern, but I didn’t have the continuous dry cough that’s a symptom of COVID 19, nor did I have a fever, and until those things happened I was going to stay off the hot line, and let it try to help people who needed it more than I did.

At any rate, the cold took its expected track, and for the last five days I’ve been coughing, wheezing, gobbling OTC meds, trying to get my rest, and watching one fuck of a lot of TV.  The worst day was Friday (which was the only day when I couldn’t work), and I’ve been improving since.  Today I only occasionally have a uncontrollable spasm of coughing, and when I cough, my ribs hurt a lot less than they did yesterday.

Today my lungs are doing a lot of popping, creaking, hissing, and making strange whistling noises.  I hope this means the congestion is breaking up, and not that my lungs are turning into foaming scarlet goo.  Time will tell.

I’ve been trying very hard not to give the bug to Kathy, but it was probably impossible to keep her from getting exposed to it, and she’s starting to do her own share of coughing and sneezing.  Since she’s susceptible to bronchial problems, we’ll be keeping a lookout, but so far she doesn’t seem to be very sick.

And today, the local paper published an interview with me and two other New Mexico SF writers about COVID and other apocalyptic subjects.  Guess it’s just in the air.