I’ve felt like absolute crap with COVD for nearly two weeks now. I guess it had to get me eventually so I’m not sure why I was so shocked to test positive. It’s literally everywhere at the moment so although I could have caught it from anyone, I certainly felt a lot of guilt about who I might have passed it on to.
I also marvelled at the fact that not only had I unknowingly run the Wakefield 10k with COVID, I’dfelt like I had some energy left in the tank afterwards too. Just a few days later I had the demeanour of an apathetic sloth.
Although the coughing has faded, the headaches and exhaustion are taking longer to shift. I’ve finally upped my game in the personal hygiene stakes but at one point I stayed in the same clothes for three days and couldn’t be bothered to wash my face or hair. Conscious of the mountain of jobs that weren’t getting done, I tried to vacuum my stairs, but I had to stop halfway up because I started getting cold sweats.
One of the other, more surprising side effects of COVID is being ravenously, stomach grumblingly hungry constantly. It’s bloody typical for this to be the case for me as I know most normal people lose their appetite. I hoped I might lose some timber, but instead my living room’s been like a scene from Seven. Being in isolation has also brought back severe lockdown de-ja-vu and made me realise how much I miss doing ‘normal’ stuff when the option is taken away. I’m now back to that lockdownesque feeling of no man’s land where going running or grabbing a coffee has the same level of exoticism as a holiday in Mustique.
In better news, I’ve finally tested negative so I’m going to attempt to not look like I’ve been dug up and pop to the shop. I really like the idea of being carried there on a chaise long a la Mariah Carey, but given that I’m not a bestselling international artist I guess I’ll have to walk instead.
I’ll hopefully have something more exciting to write about next week.