I Got Bored Really Fast.
Last week, I caught a cold. I think. I woke up with a scratchy throat that lasted all day. Shortly after dinner, I thought, I don’t feel well. I think I’ll go lie down.
My head had barely hit the pillow on the living room couch when I panicked: I AM SICK!
Suddenly I remembered: About a week before, I’d been inside a Burger King where the employees refused to wear masks. I’d even confronted them about it. One employee pretended not to hear me while her mask lingered on her chin; the other said he had a “medical condition” and therefore felt justified in wearing his mask on his bottom lip.
I got up off the couch and put myself into quarantine.
Bill made an appointment for me to be tested – two days later, since that was the first available appointment. I went to sleep for ten hours. I was sick. By the time I went to get my test – a drive-through, no-contact place where I literally swabbed myself and deposited my nasal sample into a bin – I felt pretty awful.
I went straight back into quarantine after the test, and stayed there waiting the two-to-three days for the results. It’s amazing how being actually sick reminded me how quickly it can happen, and how many people I could have contaminated.
During quarantine, I stayed in my closed bedroom. I had a smart phone, a TV and access to my own bathroom. Life was pretty good, although it did feel like I was imprisoned. I missed my kids. Even my dog didn’t want to hang out with me for very long, especially once he realized that I wasn’t going to feed him or walk him.
I was fortunate enough to have people to feed me, too. Dylan went out and got soup for me; Bill got me more of the same soup two days later. I did feel awful – but then, I started to feel better.
Once I felt better, I got bored really fast.
I read some of my book. I stared out the window at the leaves falling from the trees, at the birds flying to and fro, and – when I was lucky – at the deer wandering past. When it got dark, I binge-watched Young Sheldon and NFL football. After it got late enough to claim “bedtime,” I slept for 10-12 hours.
I felt mostly better after four days, but I was a slug. It didn’t occur to me to clean the room until near the end of my 72-hour wait for COVID test results.
I didn’t clean, though. Instead I checked Facebook and email and – again – my health portal, which still showed no results. Three days had passed, and all I had was a note saying: “Test results are usually available in 2 to 5 days; during peak times, this may take 6 to 10 days.”
I watched more news, describing the worldwide virus surge, and assumed I could be stuck in that room for another full week.
Then, sometime after dark, I got a text: “Your results are available.”
Fully recovered, I bounced upright on my bed to see those results. At first, all I saw was the five-paragraph explanation – and had to scroll back up to see what I had missed at the top of the announcement.
The word NEGATIVE was at the top, in green letters.
I’ve never been so happy to see that word in my life. I took a screenshot and texted it to my family with the caption: “I am free!”
And indeed, five long days after my self-imposed isolation, I am free.