At home, one evening in the first few days of this new, weird existence, as The Husband got the microwave meals ready, and gave me the evening dose of the Doxycycline, he looked really alarmed. Even he knew the limits I could be pushed to, and more importantly the limits I pushed myself to were beyond ordinary folks’ capabilities. Today, that limit was breached. I swallowed the tablet, and immediately forgot if I had taken it. So started the diarising of my medication, and anything else that had any relevance.
For the first time, and maybe the only time, I broke down and cried. Within seconds the gadget on my finger - The pulse Oximter, flashed ridiculous numbers showing a heart rate in forbidden numbers. So I gulped, wiped my face and took slow breaths as I sat down. This was insult to injury. Not only did I have “something” that had no explanation, no specific cause, no point of reference for the medical field, I couldn’t even have two min utes of shock and grief either as my heart would explode.
I would say, the single most difficult thing was not having a time-scale. Is this how I would be for life?
Many days later, when I found a private doctor who gave me 30 minutes time in exchange for £130, I remember asking him the following questions, and his answers:
How long will this thing last? Don’t know
What is it? Don’t know
Is there a treatment? Don’t know.
I got referrals for heart scans, blood tests and a few other tests. In hindsight, if I knew then, what I know now I might have had a few other tests and scans. I refused to consider all the medications that “may help” with the symptoms I was experiencing, because these weren’t small time medications. We were talking beta-blockers, and other serious medicines which could have side effects, which may not work and if no one knew what was wrong with me, I wasn’t going to take medicines blindly.
More non-wisdom arrived when I asked if I should rest it out, or fight it out. Don’t know. If I rested too long, the heart muscle would weaken and give way down the line. But if I started moving my heart was ripe and ready for a full on heart attack any second. I left the doctor clutching the papers for the various tests. On one corner was written, “Long Covid?” With a question mark.
The reason Covid-19 was called a novel illness, means that it was new. So no medical professional, anywhere in the world had any proven information or knowledge. What was probably being gathered was anecdotal patient experience. I was struck down at the wrong time and I felt absolutely alone.
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