COVID-19 Finally Hits Home

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Home is where the heart is … and about a month ago (September 9) home was where COVID popped up on a home test. The blue stripe with a pink one. The week when Vice President Kamala Harris wiped the floor with former President Donald J. Trump in their first — and probably only — presidential debate. The same event that had Trump spewing the racist lie that Haitian immigrants were eating the pets in Springfield, Ohio.

Then Senator James David (JD) Vance admitted he was making up stories — the Haitians eating dogs and cats lie — to get the mainstream media to focus on immigration issues and not his appalling views regarding women and bodily autonomy.

There I was beginning the descent into COVID-19. Thankfully, not full blown COVID, a relatively mild version that brought on a slight fever, coughing, and constant fatigue, which only amplified the fatigue I was already experiencing from my other, more permanent health issues.

Before the symptoms got to their most serious, off I went to the V.A. emergency department for treatment. After an examination a doctor came into the little cubicle where I was half way between sitting and laying down in an examination chair. He asked if I wanted to be an inpatient and get treated by the medical staff, or get sent home with some meds that included a med for diarrhea, acetaminophen and Molnupiravir, better known as Lagevrio, which is similar to Paxlovid. Considering I had been an inpatient way too many time already this year, I opted for the latter. When the nurses and nursing assistants know you by name when they see you arrive in a ward, you know you have been an inpatient too many times.

So home I went, wearing a different mask from the one I was wearing on the way to the hospital. Once home I semi-quarantined myself in my room for the next seven days. I had to go to the kitchen of course, so I always wore a mask when leaving my room. Once my friend left the condo I opened the bedroom door so the dogs, Chica and Jackson, could freely roam in and out. They are definitely comfort and support pets and love to laze about on my bed as I’m tapping away at my Mac.

They symptoms could have been much worse, but I have been keeping up with my COVID vaccines and I had gone in for treatment within the first 72 hours so I could return home with that little cocktail of medications.

In my drawers of medications (there are 19 I take on a daily basis) there is a shitload of acetaminophen and I didn’t experience any diarrhea so the only med I used was the Molnupiravir.

In the following six days there were times I could barely get out of bed to relieve myself or get some food. It usually takes good meds to keep me that groggy. I’ve had high doses of morphine and other opiates for various medical reasons that would keep me laid out, but COVID-19 puts all of them meds to shame. That fatigue lasted for days, relenting a bit, then coming back strong.

Every day I made sure to take all my meds, including the Molnupiravir, on time as directed. I used a couple regular packages of nose tissues, due to the congestion and runny nose. A new mask was used every day — I had ordered a box from Amazon a few weeks earlier because I go to the local VAMC facilities quite a bit so they came in quite handy during my days of COVID.

In all the years and months since coronavirus took a hold of this nation in 2020 I had never had the disease until last month. A few years ago when we were getting used to the variants and updated vaccines, probably around 2022, some medical professionals on a reputable news channel said most everyone would get COVID-19 at some point and that worried me at the time, but as the days drifted into weeks, months and then years it felt very good not to have suffered the issue.

There are friends who have had the ’Rona more than once. They just go to their medical professionals for the Paxlovid or Lagevrio and carry on. On the other hand, when the ’Rona first hit and hundreds of people were dying every day, I paid attention to all the co-morbidities that exasperated COVID-19: old age, heart disease and type-2 diabetes in particular. Wouldn’t you know it, I’m old and suffer from heart disease and type-2 diabetes. So I was very meticulous about protecting myself when leaving the house.

Starting in 2023 that rigorous attention to self-protection began to chill until finally the only places I strictly stuck to wearing masks were at any medical facilities. Hospitals and clinics are germ factories, as confirmed by a couple of my doctors and some wear masks when they see me walk into their clinic or examination rooms. Others ask, which I appreciate, but feel it is an individual choice to wear one or not. Something to note: most nurses in the various VAMC clinics wear masks when seeing patients. Take a note doctors.

One of the areas I frequent at the VAMC is the wound clinic and every nurse, nurse assistant, nurse practitioner and doctor wears a mask — without exception. The personnel in the vascular and heart surgery clinics wear masks all the time, or at least they did the last times I visited them.

The point is I still wear masks if it seems important to do so.

A month later and my health is much improved. All the other health issues even feel better, i.e. no more daily, debilitating pain, for instance, although I still feel fatigued at times, a symptom of poor heart function. The chances of that improving are slim at best. Most likely the function will diminish to a point when a new heart is required, or simply end of life on this planet.

Is there a great beyond? Hell, I don’t know, but I do know my social media accounts will remain, photos that have been posted online and articles like this one will remain online — my legacy and I’m good with that. I’ve rarely felt a desire to be married and most of the times I did it just turned out to be over blown lust. Most definitely I have never thought seriously about having children. I have imagined it a couple times but dismissed such thoughts as lunacy, for me. Everyone I know who has children say it is the best part of their worlds and I’m happy for them. My nieces and nephews are pretty decent people and most have families of their own.

One of the best spiritual axions: Live and let live.

So, the ’Rona has passed through me for the first time. It is survivable for someone with my co-morbidities, no longer a certain death sentence it once was for the elderly and sick. — but that doesn’t mean it should be ignored. It is still wise to keep up to date on the vaccines — and not just the COVID updates. There’s the flu, RSV, pneumonia and every ten years the tetanus, which also covers diphtheria and pertussis.

The nurse who works with my primary care physician is very good about keeping me updated on all of them. I have been going to the V.A. for my health care since 1979 and appreciate the level of personal attention some of my regular providers and clinics show me at each appointment.

Every day is started with a moment of meditation that is preceded by a gratitude list — all the people, places and things for which I am grateful, including the health care I receive from the Department of Veterans Affairs. Is it perfect? No, of course not. Some of those doctors have been … err … assholes.

When I had my third heart attack this past March one of the cardiologists came into my little cubicle in the E.R. and shouted at me, “DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD OF CONDITION YOUR HEART IS IN!!!”

Me, rather surprised: “Ummm … no. That’s why I come here …”

The point (I think) is this: Don’t freak out too much should the ’Rona comes to visit you. Go see a doctor, get the Paxlovid or Lagevrio, quarantine for 7-10 days and then carry on because most likely you will be cured. You might get a positive reading on a COVID test after 7-10 days, but a couple nurses told me that was normal and not to worry. If I wasn’t symptomatic then the ’Rona was gone and I was no longer contagious.

Still, I wear masks when they are needed, plus take other precautions. COVID is still with us and constantly evolving so be aware.

Carry on.

Tim Forkes

Tim Forkes started as a writer on a small alternative newspaper in Milwaukee called the Crazy Shepherd. Writing about entertainment, he had the opportunity to speak with many people in show business, from the very famous to the people struggling to find an audience. In 1992 Tim moved to San Diego, CA and pursued other interests, but remained a freelance writer. Upon arrival in Southern California he was struck by how the elected government officials and business were so intertwined, far more so than he had witnessed in Wisconsin. His interest in entertainment began to wane and the business of politics took its place. He had always been interested in politics, his mother had been a Democratic Party official in Milwaukee, WI, so he sat down to dinner with many of Wisconsin’s greatest political names of the 20th Century: William Proxmire and Clem Zablocki chief among them. As a Marine Corps veteran, Tim has a great interest in veteran affairs, primarily as they relate to the men and women serving and their families. As far as Tim is concerned, the military-industrial complex has enough support. How the men and women who serve are treated is reprehensible, while in the military and especially once they become veterans. Tim would like to help change that.