I do a pretty good job at convincing myself that I’m unf*ckwithable.
My life has never been easy, and I have developed a talent for rolling with the punches and figuring out a way. I’m always alright, at least on some varying degree, but I started to feel a little rough last week. I was tired all the time. Every day I was taking a nap, which isn’t really in my nature.
My mom started coughing and feeling poorly, but we shook it off as our change of the season allergy crud that we always get. One day last week, I was driving my chicks to school and the dreaded bottle of perfume came out. This is a point of contention every morning because it damn near chokes me to death. They spray it as I ride with my head out the window like the family dog, coughing and hacking. But something weird happened. I didn’t cough. I didn’t even notice they had the stinky stuff out until the youngest passed it to the oldest. I asked, “Did you spray that?” When told yes, I made a half-joking comment about having Rona because I didn’t smell it. “That’s not funny,” I was told. My response? “Yeah, but I’m not sure I’m joking.”
As the week went on, things seemed normal except for the naps. On Monday, I had a big meeting to attend, and my gut kept telling me to not go. I’m a big fan of trusting my gut, so I skipped the meeting and went to the COVID test site instead.
I failed the test.
I, vaccination card in hand, have COVID. The truth is, I wasn’t scared until I heard the word. I mean, I had obviously been fighting it for a week and was never scared. But hearing the “C-word” sent me right into an anxiety attack. I freaked out. The one thing I knew was Rona somehow snuck into my house and hit me with a nasty hook, making me less unf*ckwithable.
Of course, after allowing myself to reel for a minute, I brought it all back. I mean, I was halfway through the mess already and never one time thought I was going to die. In fact, aside from a head full of snot and a cough every once in a while, I never would have guessed that I had it. I jumped into gear and started working out a plan.
Yesterday morning, I started making phone calls to find out exactly what the rules were. I mean, when the lab called with my results on Monday I was told the health department has up to seven days to contact me. Seven days? What? That’s almost as long as a quarantine … or is it?
I mean, no one seems to know what we’re supposed to do.
I called the health department when they opened. I was told that my quarantine was over when the National Guard called me. I can’t say or type that for some reason without laughing. It sounds so … foreboding. I was told they were helping with the COVID communications. OK. But good thing I have no trauma in my life that would make the military seem a little, you know, intimidating.
A call to the school proved to be just as confusing. I knew from Facebook the board had changed the protocol but no one seemed real sure about what it was. I thought it sounded as if my kid could go to school because they’ve never shown symptoms. I guess I was wrong. The other thing that puzzled me was that no one even asked if they had been vaccinated. I thought that mattered?
Another call with a school employee told me that my kids were OK to return tomorrow because, again, they’ve never shown signs and were exposed well over 10 days ago. While a call to someone at the board office taught me that you can’t completely isolate if you only have one bathroom in your home. Who knew?
Even the number of days required for quarantine are different depending on who you talk to. My doctor says 10 days from onset of symptoms. Another agency says 5 with a negative test. I was also told 7 days after a negative test on day 5 without symptoms. And, although I tested positive three days ago, my quarantine is over, I hear.
I can’t make this stuff up. I also can’t describe how unbelievably frustrating it is to not be able to get an answer that remotely matches anything I’ve been told over the course of this pandemic.
Want to know why people aren’t taking this seriously? Because we’ll lose our damn minds trying to figure out who to trust and why.
Yours in Quarantine,
Amy Jo
