COVID-19, Chronic Conditions, and…Telecommuting?

First, let me apologize for adding to what seems like a never-ending cycle of news and media about COVID-19, a.k.a. the coronavirus. But I wanted to write this post because a friend of mine works for a company that sent out a communication about it that I found…interesting, to say the least.

The email in question was about the company’s current coronavirus protocol. The following is an excerpt from the email, provided by my friend:

If you have or live with someone who has a medical condition that the WHO has highlighted as being at higher risk for complications from the virus (elderly, immunocompromised state, chronic conditions such as diabetes, chronic lung disease, and cardiovascular disease), you are strongly urged to work from home if possible with your job function. If you cannot work from home, please consult with your manager.

So…the wording of this email struck me as a little odd for a few reasons. If I worked for this company, I’d wonder: 1) Just because I have one of the named chronic conditions, does this mean I must seriously reconsider my present working environment even though nobody in my office travels internationally? 2) What exactly does “strongly urged” mean, anyways? and 3) What is a manager expected to do if someone cannot work from home, for whatever reason? Make up their own set of rules? Force someone to come in or not come in? And if the latter is the case…would a paycheck have to be forfeited?

hugging the cactus - a t1d blog
I’m absolutely amazed that I managed to find a stock image that wasn’t terrifying for this particular blog post and topic…

As I pondered the answers to these questions, I also started to think that there was a chance I was overreacting to the wording of the email. So I asked other friends how they felt about it and they reacted the same way I did. Everyone was generally confused by the message that this was saying (or not saying) about people living with chronic conditions and how they should handle a situation like this.

Plus, I can’t shake the feeling that emails like this just add to all the hype/panic that we’re already being inundated with, and if I were to receive something like this, it certainly wouldn’t do anything to ease my normally-anxious mind. It’s getting more and more challenging to tune it all out…

…but on the bright side, at least I know how to properly wash my hands and sneeze/cough into my elbow. So I’ll continue those common-sense practices every day, and when I’m doing my own work, I’ll be glad it’s from the comfort of my own cubicle.

“Real People” Sick

I’m sick. I’ve just got a cold, but my throat and head are aching so much that it’s knocked the wind out of me.

I spent the weekend confined to my bed, only getting up to blow my nose, use the bathroom, and eat something every now and then…not that I’ve had much of an appetite.

I think this is my body’s way of punishing me. It’s trying to force me to slow down, and I have no choice but to heed its commands.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised…I’ve purposely kept myself as busy as possible in the last month. I’m always involved in something, whether it’s making plans with people, distracting myself with a new pet betta fish (his name is Tyrion and I love him), or crafting up a storm (I’m almost done knitting my first sweater and I’ve made two hats within the last two weeks). I’ve had a rough start to the year and unconsciously decided at some point or another that the best way to cope was to not cope at all. Hence, my body is rebelling against me, making it impossible for me to engage in any of the activities that would keep me busy.

And I’m annoyed.

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A sick PWD must have these essentials: a fully loaded test kit and a cup of tea made with honey and lemon. (Don’t forget to bolus.)

The silver lining is that my blood sugar/my diabetes don’t seem to be bothered by the cold. I’m sure my numbers would be better if I was exercising regularly, but that’s to be expected.

So I’m what we, people with diabetes, call “real people” sick: I’m definitely fighting something, but since it’s not affecting my blood sugars, it doesn’t have anything to do with my diabetes. And that’s a relief. Because handling sickness ON TOP OF out-of-control blood sugars/diabetes would be enough to drive me insane right now.

It’s almost nice that my blood sugar isn’t the first thing I’m worried about at the moment; instead, my priority is on relieving the pressure in my head and catching up on sleep. But I admit that it’s also frustrating because slowing down means that all of my other concerns, bothers, and feelings have time to catch up with me.

I guess all I can do now is practice being patient with myself (ha) so I can resume my routine of going from one thing to the next as soon as possible. And hey, I’ve had a genuine excuse to lay in bed and binge-watch Sex and the City for hours, so it can’t be all that bad, right?

Just Breathe

Just breathe…a mantra easier said than done when each breath flows in and out smoothly, instead of in ragged, wheezing gasps.

I’m no stranger to asthma. I dealt with it throughout most of my childhood. The details are blurry on when I experienced my first asthma attack, but all I know is that it left me rasping and feeling (on top of sounding) like the cute little penguin from the Toy Story series, Wheezy.

The only thing that would keep my asthma symptoms at bay was nebulizer treatments. The nebulizer is one of those loud machines that generates vapors – albuterol medicine – that must be breathed in through a mouthpiece. I hated these treatments because they left me feeling shaky for a long time afterward and often caused high blood sugar, but it was much easier and more comfortable to breathe after them…so they were worth it.

Throughout my teenage and most of my young adult years, though, asthma slowly became a distant memory. I experienced it less frequently until it stopped altogether, and suddenly diabetes was the only thing I had to worry about. And I was glad for it.

But then…let’s fast-forward to the week leading up to Christmas. I was busy. I mean, wicked busy. I was running all over the place, jetting from one party to another, interacting with all sorts of people who were bringing germs from all over to each of these merry gatherings. I was getting run down and sleeping less due to the holiday celebrations, so really, it shouldn’t have surprised me when I felt the first tinge of a sort throat in church on Christmas Eve. But when that sore throat was soon followed by a tight chest and a whistling sound whenever I exhaled, I was taken aback – not to mention straight-up annoyed.

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The rescue inhaler that’s been my best buddy the last couple of weeks.

I treated the initial waves of wheeziness with my rescue inhaler. But when that started to be less effective over shorter and shorter lengths of time, I knew I needed to get in touch with my primary care doctor. So I did, and I met with a nurse practitioner who diagnosed me with something new: reactive airway disease. I left the office feeling shell-shocked over a new diagnosis that would mean that I would have to use a different kind of inhaler twice daily for the next two weeks.

I was afraid to start it for many reasons, but the two biggest ones were 1) I was nervous it would make my blood sugar go up and 2) it can cause thrush (also known as an oral yeast infection, which sounds positively nightmarish) if I forget to rinse my mouth out with water after each dose.

Overall, though, it doesn’t sound like too big of a deal, right? If it helps my breathing, it shouldn’t be an issue to add this inhaler into my morning and evening routines.

Silly old me, however, did turn this into a big deal. I wasted far too much time fretting over this inhaler and saying “woe is me” for having to deal with yet another medication that was extremely expensive (I paid $56.83 for the darn thing…I have no idea what the total would have been if I was uninsured).

My logical self knows that this won’t do any good. So now, I’m getting my act together and just rolling with the punches.

I’m trying to gently remind myself…just breathe.