(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . A Song of Zion: What's in a name? My Covid story, Part One [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.'] Date: 2024-06-27 Greetings folks! Welcome to A Song of Zion, our weekly check-in and virtual minyan for Jews on Daily Kos. This is an open thread, and we treat it as a safe space for Jewish folks here. Non-Jews are welcome but we ask that they listen more than speak. No squabbling, please: if you want to fight, please step outside. (H/T wasplover) At the beginning of 2020 I worked two jobs- full-time at a bank, and part-time in a grocery store. I was just promoted at the bank and had recently received more regional sales awards than anyone else. I was doing well. I was on a career path; I was engaged to the love of my life. I had lots of hobbies. After a difficult and traumatic young adulthood, I had finally figured it out in my 30s. Oh- and I was really excited about the Democratic primaries. I was posting all the time here. I was donating money to my favorite candidates and had started volunteering for the Warren campaign after Kamala dropped out. And then Covid happened. I pay attention to the news. I was worried about Covid early on, before it was in the States. I knew a pandemic was possible in my lifetime and this one was looking bad. I was expecting eventual lock downs and started stocking up on some necessities and masks in advance. I’ve had a history of hospitalization for pneumonia and bronchitis, so I intended to take this one seriously. Lockdown began in March of 2020, and two days later I was sick. Dammit. It wasn’t so bad at first, but three days in I was the sickest I’d ever been in my life. At this point, that “sickest I’ve ever been” part will be very familiar to a lot of folks reading. I even made two panicked posts here. I started keeping Shabbos for the first time in ten years because I needed a path to peace through the terror. While I had been scared about respiratory problems, they turned out to be very mild. I also had no fever. What I did have was severe stomach upset and explosive diarrhea. That last one went on for over two months. And my stomach would gurgle so loudly, it would wake me up in my sleep. Creepy. And of course, crippling fatigue. It felt like gravity was stronger than before, and my bed was sucking me into it. I compare it to the feeling of being on a Gravitron ride- that’s the one that spins real fast and sucks you against the wall. You get dizzy, slightly nauseous, and for younger me it was a fun lark. But with Covid, I couldn’t get off. Not fun. And the other thing- the confusion. I had trouble understanding my phone. Multiple people in my life started getting mad- grandma, boss, parents, because I wasn’t calling them back as I always had, or hadn’t done something I’d promised. But I had no recollection of the things they were upset about. After about two and a half weeks of illness, I seemed to have gotten through it… sort of. It was clear I had “survived”, and I wasn’t getting Covid Pneumonia, but my body wasn’t right. I felt slow, weak, and off balance when standing. I didn’t feel like I had the energy to get through a day of work. I spoke with my primary care doctor several times about how I didn’t feel like I was recovering. But after almost a month of being out, she said she just couldn’t justify writing me any notes. “You just have a bit of post-viral illness. This happens sometimes. You’ll be fine.” Everyone told me I was fine. “Go back to work.” “Push through it”. So I did. When I came back the bank wasn’t open. We were making calls from our office, to assist people with getting PPP loans. My mind was moved more slowly than usual, but I did well. After about two and a half weeks, I suddenly had a resurgence of symptoms. I was dizzy, and I was experiencing that heavy sense of gravity pulling me down again. I was nauseous. So I called out of work. I was out for several weeks, but after some time, my doctor could again “no longer justify” writing notes. I was somewhat better- but I was worse than the first time I went back to work. This time at work I struggled to stand up. I looked at the computer and struggled to understand the words I was reading. Finally, in the middle of May, I collapsed onto my desk and couldn’t put my head up. I rested for 15 minutes and announced that I was sick and going home. The fifteen-minute drive was harrowing. It felt like I was looking through a blurry, kaleidoscope. I coached myself through the ride, “red light, red light. Time to stop” I’d remind myself. All the while my head hurt more with each moment and my nausea increased. Finally, I made it to the parking lot. I dragged myself huffing and puffing into the house, collapsed against the door, and sank to the floor. My fiance came over and talked to me. I have no recollection of what was said. But later on, he told me: It was terrifying. You were listless in a way I’d never seen. I don’t know how you made it home. You should have called me. But I still didn’t feel like I had the space to be okay. That would be my last day at work. As time went on through May and June of 2020 I continued to slowly decline. For a time I was well enough to play The Sims 3. At some point, I felt confused and sick while playing and had to give it up. I stopped being well enough to make myself food. Eventually, I could only passively lie down and watch TV. Occasionally I was well enough to read a little. I discovered a term called “Long Hauler.” I thought it might be nice to attend a synagogue online. G-d, Judaism, and I have a complicated relationship. I grew up Catholic and Jewish while attending a Modern Orthodox synagogue with my father who was traditional, but not religious at home. In high school, all I wanted in life was to move to Israel, get a Jewish education, and become Frum (religious). So after highschool, I moved to Jerusalem, for what I thought was forever. But things changed. I became disillusioned and traumatized, so I went home to the US. And from there I slowly separated from religious practice. So turning back to Judaism after ten years surprised even me. But Long Covid is hard, and I was desperate for something. And finding G-d seemed like a good idea. I decided to look for a Conservative synagogue, with a liberal bent. Turned out the first one I went to was just that. It has two rabbis, and one is gay, so I felt fully welcome as a queer person (one of many things that spurred me to leave in the first place). They’re a congregation heavily involved in interfaith social justice initiatives: access to affordable housing, and so on. Perfect. As time went on I got sicker and sicker. Eventually, I was entirely bedbound, and incredibly senstive to all stimuli, including light and sound. But more on that in the next installment. So on that happy note, how are folks doing? [END] --- [1] Url: https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2024/6/27/2248977/-A-Song-of-Zion-What-s-in-a-name-Part-1?pm_campaign=front_page&pm_source=latest_community&pm_medium=web Published and (C) by Daily Kos Content appears here under this condition or license: Site content may be used for any purpose without permission unless otherwise specified. via Magical.Fish Gopher News Feeds: gopher://magical.fish/1/feeds/news/dailykos/