Ann and I just want to be together, even in illness. Tuesday lunchtime and the decline begins; by evening we are unstable on our legs, headache, body aches and then the cough. I tested but no sign of Covid. Wednesday and Thursday were hacking cough days, both of us a snotty, barking duo. It was deep in the lungs and that started to worry me. My illness means I have a very poor immunity, in fact, I am officially vulnerable. However, with no signs of illness for two years, I have not tested my immunity. In bed, as soon as I lay down, my lungs rattled. Ann coughed but never rattled. I could feel my confidence ebb away. How is a fit, seemingly strong body, able to decline so quickly? The nasty virus was beating me down.

The coffin, the coffin

Friday saw the brain fug lift just a little. However, we coughed so much our diaphragms were painful. We managed a little walk but our bodies were exhausted. A paracetamol every 4 hours eased the symptons. Sleep now became the challenge, at least for me. However, so desirous of sleep and yet so wide awake. Worse, as I drifted off, the sweats started. Sweats are a leukaemia speciality. Drenching sweats night after night for 6 months is a sign you need to start treatment. I have also lost 3 pounds, which is also a sign that the leaukaemia could be advancing. Well, I don’t think so. It is now 14 days since we went ill but signs of recovery are evident. I can’t help comparing myself to Ann, who has a ‘normal’ immune system. It is age, and a warning that mortality is a reality.

The nasty virus

Age is a changing status. I slowly came to understand that my future might not extend beyond the fairly immediate. All those heady years of an imagined future disappeared and that was a shock. Now, I must add in my loss of confidence in myself. That youthfull strength is a thing of the past, I am mortal. My perspective has changed. It’s no good pretending, the body is not the body it was. Neither, for that matter, is the mind. However, the temperature is fine, the BP low and the oximeter reading okay. Life goes on, but perhaps not as we knew it.