sick days – Hugging the Cactus

Remember that post I wrote last month about my bout of covid? If not, you can read it here…and then come back to this post for the update.

The update is that my covid experience wound up lasting longer than I thought it would. You see, after completing my doses of Paxlovid, I was starting to feel great! I think I had about 5-7 days of normalcy before things took a turn and I officially got a case of rebound covid.

That’s right, it came back to haunt me. On a Sunday, days after finishing my Paxlovid, I noticed that my throat began to feel a little funky again. It was just as tingly as it felt at the initial onset of covid, which was a sign to me that perhaps I wasn’t out of the woods just yet.

I spent most of May feeling…a bit under the weather.

Sure enough, the next couple of days my symptoms intensified slightly. Only they were a different set of symptoms compared to my first round – this time, I was dealing with an extremely itchy and agitated nose. It could’ve been so much more worse, and I’m grateful it wasn’t, but my mental health seriously suffered when I took another at-home covid test that Monday and learned I was still positive.

At that point in time, I’d been in isolation for three weeks. This meant I’d have to complete another 10 days, at a minimum.

I was devastated. I was missing my family and friends. I felt like a prisoner in my own home, bound here because it was the right thing to do in order to protect my loved ones, but also resentful of how confined I was because overall, I really didn’t feel that bad. But I wouldn’t change a thing about my quarantine period because it was ultimately the only thing I was in control of throughout the whole experience, and having control over whether or not I exposed people to covid provided me a sense of comfort.

I was also extremely distraught because my business trip to New Orleans was rapidly approaching, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to travel again unless I started testing negative. So the following Tuesday after I tested positive again, I began consulting my healthcare team and we decided that I might benefit from receiving a monoclonal antibody infusion to help my immune system recover faster. Just like that, all my hopes became tied to this infusion as I longed for it to both alleviate my symptoms (even Benadryl wasn’t helping my itchy, sneezy nose) and help me produce a negative test as soon as possible.

Fortunately, the infusion did its job. Within 48 hours, I was feeling much more like myself. Even better, four days after receiving it, I began testing negative. I was beyond elated and relieved.

My covid ordeal taught me a few things. Number one, I feel so very lucky that I had access to the means to get better: a capable healthcare team, medical treatment, an understanding employer who let me take as much sick time as I needed, and the like. Number two, I feel similarly lucky that my diabetes seemed totally unaffected by the illness. I can’t imagine how much more difficult (and frustrated) it would’ve been if I’d also been chasing lows or highs. Number three, I’ve got so much more appreciation for the people and things I took for granted prior to my quarantine. I was absolutely giddy the first time I left the house after testing negative, and honestly, that feeling hasn’t changed with every subsequent plan I’ve made in the weeks that have followed.

Most of all, I’ve got a new level of gratitude for my support system: my family, my friends, my partner, and everyone who checked in on me when I was feeling depressed and lonely in quarantine. I would’ve been lost without them.

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.

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.