Just Thinking: It's ironic that COVID finally hits home
I look at it this way: Testing positive for COVID-19 just 10 days after presenting my arm for a second booster shot is an excellent example of irony.
The first way I looked at it, I admit, was to stamp my foot and carry on. How dare fate treat me this way! I’d been so good, so careful, so willing at the height of the pandemic to bundle to the teeth to read to my grandchildren on porches and outdoor benches and in frigid picnic shelters. I’d been thoroughly vaccinated, and for what?
Then I reviewed the situation. What I had, or thought I had, was a cold. For one day, I was miserable, as people with colds are: fiery throat, achy, tired. I canceled plans. The next day, I felt better. My symptoms had shifted, as cold symptoms do. One moment you’re congested to the ears; the next, your nose is running like a Waterpik, and then the sneezing starts.
It’s something new every minute with colds, which I’ve always found sort of charming. It’s as if the cold is rummaging through all the merchandise in its footlocker: “How about a wheeze? Do you like this cough? Here, try these streaming eyes. Maybe you’d prefer your head stuffed with cotton balls.” Colds have endless variety, which is more than you can say for stomach flu.
I might have gone on believing it was a cold had my husband not surprised me with a thermometer. He’d positioned it on my temple before I realized what he was doing and then read it aloud: 100.5. Not much, even considering that my temperature is usually a cool 96.8. Even so, my husband produced a test kit, which rendered a firm, don’t-argue-with-me positive. After all this time. It was like getting a birthday card long after my birthday. Why now? I said.
Then I regained my grip. Why not now? Vaccinations don’t kill the virus or put it on the next bus to Toronto (not that I’m wishing COVID-19 on Canada). Vaccinations protect infected people from becoming deathly ill. They turn a potentially dangerous respiratory illness into something that feels like the common cold. Yes, several plans had to be scuttled, including my older grandson’s ninth birthday celebration, but pictures and videos were shared, the excitement transmitted beautifully and no one’s life lay in ruins because I wasn’t at the table.
Just Thinking: Wisdom's value is in ear of beholder
Disappointments aside, I don’t mind staying home. Staying home is my default setting; putting on grown-up clothing and leaving the grounds run counter to all my instincts. I’ve spent the past two years happily reading, tapping away on my laptop and talking to myself behind my mask while selecting oranges and peppers from supermarket bins. (“These oranges are insanely expensive, but I’m not spending half the year in Florida, so I can afford them,” is what I was saying. You probably heard me. I tended to forget that just because you couldn’t see my lips moving, you weren’t deaf.)
As vaccinations became available, everyone relaxed. Masks stayed crammed into car consoles or the side pockets of purses; plexiglass shields disappeared from check-out counters and the tables pushed in front of my pharmacy’s windows to ensure distance were returned to wherever they’d come from.
I suspect we’ll be sorry if we throw our masks away or store them on a high shelf. Masks should remain within easy reach because we might need them again. That would be OK with me. Masks became a habit, and frankly, I’d rather have a mask habit than the habit of wearing full eye makeup every time I venture into public.
When I was in my 20s, I considered eyeliner and mascara as mandatory as covering my nakedness. Now, given the choice between wearing a facemask or spending minutes every day coloring my eyelids and making a brush pointy enough to draw neat lines above my eyelashes, I’d gladly wear a mask. I’d gladly wear a crash helmet. Just don’t ask me to associate with mascara wands or own an eyelash separator.
And that’s why I decided that contracting COVID-19 after two years of caution, two vaccinations and two booster shots is no more than a beautiful instance of literary irony. I am grateful to be part of this example.
Email Margo Bartlett at margo.bartlett@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on ThisWeek: Just Thinking: It's ironic that COVID finally hits home
