log: Covid Comes Home

9,582,815(+209,169): 1,030(+97): 12,757(+329)(0.13%)

Case numbers have started to rapidly decline here. Means we’re probably past the Omicron peak. But, in some ‘one day before retirement’ type shit, Wife has caught COVID.

After a couple of rapid antigen home tests missed it, a test at the doctor’s office caught it. They gave her a huge bag of pills (free of charge, thank you, South Korea) and sent her home. Right now, she’s sick in bed. Quarantine for the next 7 days, if all goes well.

I still feel fine. Tired and I bit of a headache but that could just be how I usually feel, and it could be a lot of things. I’m assuming that if she’s got it. I’ve got it –partly because that’s what she’s been shouting at me for two months (“IF I GOT IT YOU GOT IT”) and partly because, well, I’m locked indoors in a one bedroom with Covid.

So, we’re stuck at home for at least a week. With me bleaching door-handles and the like because, yeah, if I don’t already have it, I’m probably catching it. But I’m sure af not trying to.

In practical terms, this means masking, handwashing, distance, locking Wife away in the bedroom, and bleaching surfaces. It also means leaving a window open, having the aircon fan on. But because it’s still fairly chilly here, currently 6도, the heat is also on. It’ s a fucking madhouse, basically. Probably futile but I’ll do what I can. With any amount of luck, I’m hoping I can delay catching the shit for a moment. Hopefully, she’ll be on the mend as I’m going down and we can baton the caregiving duties. Hopefully.

The dogs are a little upset by the whole thing but, all in all, handling it better than I would have expected. Davy keeps waiting for Wife to come out of the room but she somehow seems to get that, for the moment, she has to be in the room. She isn’t kicking up a fuss. And Lobo? Well, Lobo doesn’t care. As long as I’m around, Lobo is happy.

I’m not all that stressed. Some of that is that I pretty much expected this to happen. Wife works in a high-risk area and it just seemed like a matter of time. The other thing is, we have more than enough toilet paper in the house. More than anything, I’m aggravated with my Wife’s boss. That’s a bit of a long and complicated story and currently involves a water heater subplot, and I’m not going to get into any of it here, but, suffice to say, I’m aggravated.

This isn’t, however, a story with a lot of blame. It’s just one of those things.

And although I am maybe a bit worried about how this can all turn out, that’s not a thing that I have much control over. Basically, I just look after my wife, try to stay capable of doing that, and monitor the situation. I won’t lie, Long Covid frankly scares the shit out of me, but it’s not as if any of us are given some sort of vote about what version of shit we get or even how much of it we have to eat. We just get a plate and a spoon.

To be completely honest, I might even be a little jealous of Wife. Wasting away in a room, having my food passed into me on a tray, was always my dream. She gets to live it.

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