Covidivisation Takes It's Toll

Friday. 8.50 a.m. Covid doing its worst. The night was better than the night before. I have finished the packet of Paracetamol, and need to get more. 

10.40 a.m. I needed to know what the situation was regarding isolating because of my positive covid test yesterday. I went online to an N.H.S. site and found 5 days, which I am adhering to, but no real advice, so I thought I ought to speak to my medical centre. I rang, but waited ten minutes to speak and even then the lady didn't seem to know the answer, so I rang N.H.S. 111. I had to answer a load of questions, but because I have had two heart attacks, they recommended I speak to a doctor, so rang surgery again, but they said no doctor could speak to me, not even for a telephone consultation, but a paramedic could ring me later.

5.25 p.m. I needed paracetamol, but I couldn't go out, so I had the idea of putting a message, asking if any of my friends on Facebook could get me a couple of packets. My good friend, Margaret, who goes to Shenley Christian Fellowship, must have seen the message, and she rang me, although at that point I was asleep on my bed, I rang back, and she said she would go and get me some paracetamol, which she came to Dexter House to deliver. I took some, and they do relive some of the more unpleasant parts of the covid. Shivery, flu-like, pain in the back, sort of, kidney area. Just keep taking paracetamol every four hours. I have slept a great deal. 

Saturday. 1.15 a.m. I have been trying to sleep, but, considering I slept a great deal of yesterday, it's really not surprising. I was having a sort of dream, more likely part awake, about a play called Noises Off. Why that, I don't know, but anyway, I decided that, because I couldn't sleep, together with coughing and needing the loo (just one of those things, people!) I got up, but painful getting off the bed, discomfort in my lower back, but, after a bit of effort, I managed it.

6.00 a.m. I've taken Alfie out, had a shave and put out the rubbish. I have taken a further two paracetamol. I am feeling slightly better, no shivering and sweating, which was the main feature of covid yesterday. I will do another test on Monday, but it seems unlikely I will be able to go to Camphill on Tuesday.

11.15 a.m. Not a great deal to report, except I've taken another two paracetamol. Not feeling so hot and sweaty, but still not one hundred per cent.

5.45 p.m. I've spent the afternoon watching Laurel and Hardy films, from my DVD collection of all their films. I bought it a couple of years ago on Amazon. I had known years ago that there was a complete box set of their films, as I love their films. But at that time the set cost around £200. Then they were on offer at around £50 in the HMV shop in Milton Keynes, but the set was sold on Amazon for around £30. I have been drawn back to these films because of the 'silent comedy' video project we have been involved in at Camphill in the performing arts workshop. The films I watched this afternoon were: "Them Thar Hills" and it's 'sort of' sequel 'Tit For Tat" and "County Hospital." They may be near enough 90 years old, but they still make me laugh and compared to a good deal of modern 'comedy' need a great deal of beating.

Sunday. 5.35 a.m. I had an idea that this bout of covid was coming to an end. How wrong could I be? I woke this morning with more pain in my lower back and the cough again wreaking its havoc. I took about three times longer than normal to get dressed, so I could take Alfie out. Any idea that I would go to church this morning is totally out of the question, and my weekly Camphill session on Tuesday is even more unlikely. Although having said all that, I don't feel as bad as I did when this thing started on Thursday. So, it seems I'm just going to have to endure this thing for the long haul. No way is it going to end soon, but I wish it would.

8.50 a.m. As I write this, it's 'sort of' raining. I mean, drizzly rather than pouring rain. Something that Alfie won't like, although he wouldn't get much of a dousing.

Monday. 5.35 a.m. It was something of a surprise to discover it was raining fairly hard as I looked out of the kitchen window this morning. I thought I could go out without a coat, but on arriving at the bottom of the stairs and seeing rain through the double doors which lead into the garden, I had second thoughts and returned to the flat to get my bright yellow Regatta raincoat. Alfie was not much bothered by the rain when we eventually hit Strudwick Drive and we were soon back inside.

As regards my covid infection has continued, although I'm not as hot and sweaty, brain fog has left me sort of in a sort of, well, fog. It takes ages to think and get dressed about three times the usual, length of time.