Too Much Time On Our Hands
It's April 16, 2020. This is a period that we'll all remember. Locked up. Shuttered in. Afraid to go outside. Afraid to touch people. Afraid. Because death by an unseen, mysteriously lurking, secretly attacking virus is right there. I've been sick. It started on April 4. I had intestinal issues for about 8 days. That's a polite ladylike way of saying I spent hours and hours in the bathroom and my body was rejecting everything I put into it. By April 10 I decided to call a doctor. Never mind the form-fitting jeans and the flat stomach I was happy about, I knew that this wasn't a good thing. She asked the usual questions -- fever? able to smell? achy? So I managed a liquid-only diet for 17 hours before digging into some ramen, and started monitoring my temperature, as she suggested. 98 - 97.1 - 97.2 - 97.6 - 97.6 - then it was 99.7. Then it was 99.8. Then it was 100. Those last three were in the span of 2 hours. I've told the folks who kind of n