Long Covid: Week 18

Belated update. Week 18, but written about mid-week 19. Words and sentences feel hard to grab out of my brain at the moment. When tired, I seem to have developed mild dyslexia. Letters sometimes add themselves up in the wrong order. I don't know the name for thinking of one word and saying another, but there's that too. I'm measuring the recovery of my mind in crosswords. Those quick crossword books. Finding answers to clues. Dragging dusty words from the clogged-up corners of my memory. Now I'm measuring it in reading too. One novel a week ago, now more. This week Nell Stevens's Bleaker Island; Maggie O'Farrell's The Vanishing of Esme Lennox; Sayaka Murata's Convenience Store Woman. The words must be coming back. Steps are coming back too: up to 5,000 now in day. Of course, there are the lingering symptoms: nerve pain, tinnitus, inflamed (I think) ribs and abdomen, burning sensations, thudding, pulsing head, acid reflux. Fatigue, too, is a constant now. A phone call, trying to concentrate for an hour is exhausting. Coordination. I've just spilt a cup of roiboos tea. Although, anyone who knows me will tell you that this occurrence is nothing to do with Covid. That's my old clumsy self.

Long Covid: Week 17

It's the middle of week 17. Relapses seem to be an integral part of Long Covid, and sometimes it can  feel hard to trust small victories. Or as if celebrating them might jinx them. But, hey, I'm happy that this week I've been able to walk 2,500 steps each day, divided into a groups of several hundred steps. I've not needed a daytime nap. I've read a whole book from cover to cover (Rosamund Lupton's Three Hours. Totally gripping). I drove round the block. There's no way I'd have been able to do any of these things even a week ago.

(Ongoing symptoms, if helpful for any fellow Covid Long-Haulers: nerve pain, dry throat, a new mouth ulcer for a day, memory loss, sore joints and feet, stinging and tired eyes, sudden spasms of pain, a freezing right foot, can't lie on my left side (told you this virus was strange), problems regulating body temperature, insomnia, fatigue, tinnitus, and thudding in my head.)

Signs and symptoms of long-haul Covid (Week one)

I don't think I would usually fancy reeling off my medical history in a public space, nor would anyone be interested in reading it, but this feels different. Long-Haul Covid, as I think it's being called, is new to the world. I hope sharing my experience might be helpful for others going through it, even simply if it's to know that you're not alone. That became my mantra as I lay in bed ill. Isolated. But not alone. The sheer scale of this illness must mean that there will be scientific research. The medics will begin to understand how to treat it. We will get better. I can recommend joining one of the online support groups – on Facebook or Slack – too. I certainly felt relief after doing so.

Week One (Days 1-7)

Coronavirus was everywhere in the news. Wash your hands, then wash your hands some more. There were two official symptoms, high temperature and a new dry, continuous cough. So when I had uncontrollable shaking one Sunday afternoon, a cold sore, a small nose bleed, and mouth ulcers, it didn't really cross my mind that it was Covid-19. Even when I had diarrhoea the next day, I thought, well, that's horrible and odd, and carried on with life. It was the following evening, Tuesday 17 March, that the high temperature and fever hit. Oh. I woke early the next morning, breath rasping and short, with a dry cough. Heart racing. A bat fluttering in my chest. 

The symptoms came in waves. It was disconcerting. How ill am I? Am I imagining this? I felt better, sat up  at a desk for an hour, and was then totally exhausted. As if my muscles couldn't hold me up. Was that possible? 

That evening I sat on the sofa to eat soup and bread, and realised I couldn't taste it. Wholemeal crumbs in my mouth, like eating sawdust and cardboard. More energy the next day, but also a cough that felt as if would rip open the tissues in your chest because they were so dry. Heart racing when I walked up the stairs. I spent Friday lying in bed. At some points awake but so tired that I could barely reply to an email. At others, feeling well enough to talk on the phone. At yet others, asleep. 

Covid-19 messes with your mind.

On the Saturday, my birthday, I woke up determined to enjoy the day despite being ill and in isolation alone. I got in the shower, and felt as if I couldn't stand. Chest pain. Turns out I had low blood pressure on standing. Anxiety. I actually hadn't been feeling anxious before then. I knew I wasn't in a high-risk category, nor did I have any pre-existing health conditions. Friends organised a Zoom online – ah, remember when Zoom was new and exciting – for my birthday. I joined for a while, but could barely hold my head up. It felt so heavy.

By the Monday I thought I was feeling better, and joined a gentle Yin Yoga class online. I couldn't lift  my arms over my head, or lean forward. My entire back felt as if it had been dried out into a crisp, and that moving would scrunch and tear it. Still not well, then? 

But remember… it's a fever and a cough. 

A temperature again on day six. It went. I'd been given medical advice to go outside as soon as my seven-day isolation ended, to help cope with the anxiety. I did, just along the road a little, by myself and without seeing anyone. Back home. I hoped that would be the end  of it.