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.)
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