I went to bed on a Tuesday night feeling like a million bucks. Actually, I have no clue what a million bucks feels like, so let’s say that I went to bed feeling like a few hundred grand. I woke up Wednesday morning making a mad dash to the toilet for the opening salvo of diarrhea. Thank God I had recently bought an 18-pack of toilet paper.
“Where did I pick up the flu?” I asked my service dog, Tye, out loud, never once seriously thinking it could be anything else. Especially not the “C” word.
You see, I’m autistic, which means I’m socially awkward and shelter in place most of the time, social distance as a lifestyle choice, and sadly hadn’t traveled outside my small rural-ish county in nearly four months. So, it couldn’t be that.
For the next couple of days, the toilet and I formed that special bond one does when they have the flu. I got to know it and it got to know me. I even started calling it Mr. Hanky. If you don’t get that reference, just Google “Mr. Hanky South Park.” Best to not have the little ones nearby when you do. You’ve been warned.
As with the typical flu, the runs gave way to a fever and chills. It was in the 70’s outside, yet I was bundled in flannel pajama pants, a hoodie, and superhero tube socks and I was sweating like a pig, yet I was still freezing. And I was achy.
If you have a problem with my superhero tube socks, tough. I’m autistic AND I’m a nerd. There are more of us than you realize and we’re a force to be reckoned with. Don’t even get me started talking about my X-men boxer briefs or my Yoda queen size sheets. You might think they sound stupid, but some women like them. Never underestimate the power of a guy in Flash underwear and socks. We can be chick magnets.
The typical flu should have been over by now, but it wasn’t. I still felt like, as my mom would say, “death warmed over.” My muscles started to ache, and I was sleeping abnormally long. That scared me a bit as that wasn’t usual for me, but I still wasn’t too worried.
Then I started coughing. A lot. So much so that at one point I thought I saw a chunk of lung on the coffee table, but it was only a small piece of chicken. Things started tasting funny, which really sucked because I’m a rad cook and my stuff usually tastes delish. I can’t have my food tasting bad.
At that point, I knew I should call my doctor, but I’m a stubborn ass and I was determined that it wasn’t The COVID (said like one would say, “The Cancer.”) and I kept pushing through my daily life, sad though it was, as best I could. I started forgetting little things and getting confused about what I had and hadn’t done and that started scaring me. According to my neurologist, I’m a candidate for early-onset dementia and I was hoping this wasn’t the early onset as I’m barely in my 50’s.
I finally hit rock bottom and decided I needed help (that sounds like an addict seeking treatment, right?) when I got a bowl of ice cream, sat down on the couch and fifteen minutes later decided to grab a couple of Oreos, only to find the ice cream sitting on top of them in the kitchen cupboard. At that moment I knew I had lost it and would call my doctor the next morning.
Tossing and turning all night and scared like I can’t remember being scared, I climbed out of bed at the moment the office opened, dialed the phone, and said, “I need to make an appointment with Ronnie. I think I probably have “The COVID.” This started the list of questions I have probably been asked close to a hundred times in the ten days since.
I am so sick of answering them, and they’re always the same. I seriously thought about writing out the questions and my answers, making a bunch of copies, and when the interrogation starts, just handing them a piece of paper. It started like this:
Do you have a fever?
Probably.
You don’t know?
I don’t have a thermometer.
Have you had a cough or shortness of breath?
I thought I coughed up a piece of lung. Turns out it was only chicken.
Have you been out of the country or the state in the last thirty days?
Sadly, I haven’t left the county in the past four months.
Have you been around anyone who you know to have or suspect to have the Coronavirus?
This is J.R. (they know I’m autistic and don’t do anything or see people.) Two months ago, I saw urgent care about my broken foot, and other than that it’s been ordering ahead at Sonic, the drive-thru at Walgreens, and curbside delivery of groceries at Walmart.
There have been more questions, but you get the drift.
I’ve been diligently wearing my mask, even before I started feeling sick and continue to do so. After I had my test, it was a couple of hard days waiting for the results to come in because I know that if they were positive, I was truly alone in this.
I have no girlfriend to talk to and to help comfort me, my friends from my now-online D & D group arent going to be of much help either. Their typical response to personal tragedy is, “Aw that sucks, bro.” Yeah. I know it sucks. That’s why I called you!
My family is in California and I’m in Southwest Missouri and they would find a way to blame me for it, so I didn’t tell them. I’m not worried about writing this here and having them find out as they never read my writing.
So, for the past couple of weeks I’ve been holding onto my mental and physical state as best I can. It’s been tough and there are days when I feel like I need to triple up on my depression medicine. My sleep pattern has been all over the place. Some days I’m sleeping fifteen hours a day and others I toss and turn for three or four hours a night.
I’m doing everything I can, not shooting up with Lysol to kill the Coronavirus in my body (although Trump thought it might be a good idea at one point) and just doing what my body feels like it needs to do at any given moment to heal itself. I’m deathly scared to go into the hospital as I fear I may never come out. I raised my daughter alone from age five and now she’s twenty-two and having her first child in September. That’s something I want to be around for.
If it can happen to a stay at home autistic introvert like me, it can happen to you. I know some of us hate the masks and we feel like the one-way grocery aisles are an infringement on our freedoms and our right as Americans, but feeling the way I do (and I’m getting off easy compared to many with COVID) I can tell you without a doubt that it’s worth it.
The only good thing to come of this is that I’ve gotten to binge some things I forgot to watch in the Spring, such as Survivor 40, re-watch Umbrella Academy (again) in hopes that will make season two come out sooner, and I’ve been taking advantage of a lack of new comic books on Wednesdays by using my DC Universe and ComiXology subscriptions to catch up on some of the older series I haven’t read. Plus, I’ve been getting pumped for the Spider Gwen movie coming out this summer on Netflix.
Having The COVID doesn’t have to be a terrible thing, it’s all in how you look at it and how you choose to see it. Yes, I’m alone and lonely, but I’m not in ICU hooked up to a ventilator and I have my Harley Quinn cartoons to watch on DC Universe!
Do you or a loved one have COVID? First off, I’m truly sorry for what you’re going through and hope that everything turns out well for you in the end. If you would, please share your stories with us, good or bad. We can learn from them and understand what we’re truly dealing with. You’ll be helping a lot of people.