I have covid . . .

I’m fairly certain I picked it up this past Tuesday.   Wednesday night I had a slight throat-clearing cough.  Not sure if this was covid related or not.  Saturday I had a fever of 100.5, along with some achiness.  I got tested on Saturday and received the positive test result on Sunday.  Last night was a bit worse than the night before.  I had chills and aches.  When I am not sick I am usually more or less pain free; when I get a cold or flu all my old aches and pains come back for an encore.  That happened last night.  In addition, the cough moved into my lungs and became deeper, and I got just a bit wheezy.  This morning with the help of acetaminophen I feel pretty good – if you dropped me into my body without telling me that I had covid it might take me a while to notice that I was sick.  I don’t have any other symptoms.

My initial reaction to my diagnosis was fairly optimistic.  I thought it was likely I would have a mild case and would soon be able to visit family and friends again, including a favorite uncle who is quite sick.  Having read a bit on disease progression, I think my initial take may have been a bit optimistic.  I am still early in the course of the disease; things could definitely go south over the next 3 to 5 days.  My sense is that I have a small chance (maybe 10% to 20%) of ending up in the hospital, and other than that an even chance of skating through relatively unscathed or spending several days struggling to breath but pulling through at home. Having the cough move to my chest last night was sobering.

Although I hope to get through this relatively easily and to enjoy a real benefit from immunity (I would not be vaccine-eligible for months) I would not have chosen to get sick.  The prospect of gasping for breath for a several days at home is very unappealing, choking to death alone would be oh-so-much worse.  I would rather have waited for a vaccine.  Be careful out there!