When Covid hit in 2020, I was scared shitless. I had enough anxiety in just trying to get through every day and convince myself we would be ok. And then we were thrown into a pandemic.
We washed our groceries. We wore our masks. We stayed home. I celebrated every time another one of us was able to be vaccinated. Because I was scared. And you can sit there and tell me all that you want about the chances of any of us getting really sick. Because statistically speaking, my Bennett should be alive too. So numbers are meaningless to me.
I lived in panic. None of us were technically high risk, however anytime we got sick, Perry (my youngest) got REALLY sick. At 6 months it was an ER trip with the flu because she couldn’t keep any breast milk down. At 18 months it was 2 ER trips and an Urgent Care visit before we finally landed in the PICU for 4 days. On oxygen. With Pneumonia. In the same hospital where my son was pronounced dead 5 years earlier. I feel like my anxiety over her is justified.
And it finally happened, we got Covid. I knew we would get it eventually and I had honestly made my peace with it after we were all vaccinated. That shot gave me the tiniest amount of hope that maybe things could be normal for us again.
I didn’t even know that I had Covid until I was 4 days in, I thought it was just a really, really bad migraine. Thankfully I wasn’t around too many people besides my husband (and we were at a work event😬). I test us at the first sniffle and I honestly tested myself on a whim when we got home. And it was positive.
When I tested positive, I ran to Walmart curbside the next day and had them fill my trunk with every cough and cold serum known to man. I had no idea if any of it would actually work, but I wanted to have it all on hand.
We made it 2 days and I was actually convinced that I had contained it to myself. And then everyone started falling like dominoes. One positive test after another. Perry’s one test never came back positive, but she started in with a fever and cough.
And then she just couldn’t stop coughing. We tried everything, brought her outside, used a humidifier, cough drops, sleeping elevated. For 24 hours she coughed and coughed and coughed. And I was terrified. We broke out the pulse oximeter that I bought at the beginning of Covid and saved ourselves a trip to the ER. Because I was ready to go. But her oxygen levels were perfect. Thank goodness.
This has been my worst nightmare since March of 2020. And that probably seems crazy to some, but once you truly understand how fragile life is and how quickly it can all change, all bets are off. Thankfully, after a week of rest, we are back at it.