Greetings from the depths of the cloying, choking, suffocating mucus hell that is Covid. I’m still a bit ‘vague’, I think is the best word to describe it. It’s difficult to write when your mind refuses to stay focused for more than a couple of seconds. Whatever you intended to say tends to get lost in the vagueness before you reach to middle of the sentence. But at least I can swallow now ─ which I was unable to do without sever pain for the first three days of this episode. Swallowing was what I imagine it would be like were you to run an industrial sander down the lining of your throat.
Yesterday, I managed to ingest a mug of tomato soup. That was the first food I’d taken since the previous Thursday morning. At that point, there was no hint of what was to come. It wasn’t until Thursday afternoon that I began to realise something was wrong.
By Thursday evening I was out of it. I know I did some stuff over Friday and Saturday, but I have no clear recollection. All I remember is the searing pain in my throat which intensified tenfold when I attempted to swallow. By some fiendish quirk of human nature, it seems that being unable to swallow greatly increases the urge to swallow. By the time I had soup on Sunday I’d lost just over 6kg ─ which for the benefit of those visiting us from the Middle Ages or America, is almost one stone. I do not commend Covid as part of your weight management program, however.
The Covid gremlins having departed my throat appear to have now taken up residence in my chest. I can feel them massing there. I feel weight of them in my lungs. I dread what the bastards might do next.
I am fully vaccinated and have had all the top-ups and boosters on offer. I’ve never experienced any adverse reaction to the treatment. So, I’ve had no hesitation about accepting whatever NHS Scotland saw fit to recommend. They’ve looked after me well over the years. Basically, I just do whatever they tell me. That practice has worked out well so far. The point is that Covid managed to get to me despite the fact that I rarely leave the house and when I do, I’m always equipped with masks and hand sanitiser. I continue to practice social distancing and find that many others seem to now do this as a matter of course. It comes naturally to some people. The rest are just ignorant, inconsiderate arsewipes. I have also tried to break the habit of hand-shaking. This is not easy. But I’ve almost cracked it. In general, people do not take offence at their offered hand being refused as they once would. More often they are mildly embarrassed at having offered.
Despite all the precautions, the Covid still got to me. Despite all the protection, it still laid me low. I hate to imagine what it would be like had I not had all the jags.
Please take this as a warning. Covid is still with us even if it has been knocked off the front-pages by stuff that I was blessedly oblivious to for a couple of days. The distinctly tarnished silver lining to the Covid cloud. That cloud hangs over us every bit as much now as at any time in the period when it was classified as a major public health crisis. The virus has not been defeated. The threat has not changed. The only thing that has changed is the way that threat is presented to us by the media.
The best advice remains the same as it has always been. Isolation is the only effective way to combat the spread of viral disease.
- DON’T LET THE VIRUS GET TO YOU FROM ANOTHER PERSON!
- DON’T LET THE VIRUS GET FROM YOU TO ANOTHER PERSON!
- DO THIS ALL THE TIME FOR AS LONG AS IT TAKES!
Protect yourselves. Protect you family. Protect your community. The politicians and the media are interested only in protecting their power. Heed them at your peril.
If you find these articles interesting please consider a small donation to help support this site and my other activities on behalf of Scotland’s independence movement.