Covid, the Garden & the Little Cloud

More than a week ago, I tested positive for covid. I've finished both my five days of isolation and five days wearing a mask out and about. This week, I get to go back to the office to work. Today is the first day I've had a normal amount of energy.

I don't know if I had classic symptoms of covid or not, but I woke up coughing one night. I was feeling a little tired the days before, but I figured I was short on sleep and had a few glasses of wine with dinner. I even googled "covid versus hangover." The third day was unambiguous: I felt like shit. I could still smell and taste food, but I had a runny nose and I was really tired. I went to an urgent care clinic and I got the anti-viral medication, which was wonderful. After I started taking the Paxlovid, I felt so much better. I was sleeping a lot, but other than that, I felt okay. The weird thing about being isolated while having covid was I wasn't doing anything, so I couldn't gauge my energy level.

Day 8, I started to lose my mind. I hadn't seen anyone other than strangers I'd run into on the street. Pedro came over for dinner on Thursday. He was the first human I had regular contact with in person in more than a week. It was so nice. He did all of the talking because I didn't have much to contribute because I haven't done anything other than watch "My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend," "The Adam Project" starring Ryan Reynolds and "Operation Mincemeat" starring Colin Firth on Netflix and read "Trust" by Hernan Diaz. 

This weekend, I was still technically on the bench according to the CDC, even though according to Jack, my likelihood of being contagious was extremely low. Nevertheless, I live in Seattle and people fret a lot about covid here. I know people who have long-covid as well, one in their twenties. 

I was listening to a friend's covid experience. She got tired of reading books and watching movies. I started to think, "What can I do? What are all of my options? Surely there is more to do than stream television shows and read."

This spring has been miserable, rainy and cold. I've delayed working on planters on my balcony and patio. I decided to the garden store, get some new geraniums and fertilizer, and work on the garden. The garden store is outside, and I could easily socially distance. I wore a mask the whole time I was shopping, which was weird because I was one of the few. People must have thought I was a germaphobe, or at least I hope they did. I am not sure how many thought I was bouncing back from having the virus myself. 

I got my plants yesterday, and today I weeded and added compost to my containers. I am probably the only person in downtown Seattle who composts leaves and other plant debris. It was a perfect and lovely solo activity while I was on the upswing. I feel like I have my energy back.

The best thing about having covid is I am done with it. I feel free, like I can fully carry on with my life without worry and stress. I was getting back to lots of normal things, like traveling, going back to work and eating in restaurants, but there was always a little cloud of fear hanging over me. 

That little cloud is gone, and it feels so nice.

Returning to People

I am on the last full day of a conference in Florida and I am exhausted. I have forgotten what it is like to be around people so much. I live alone and work from home, which creates a different kind of exhaustion. All of a sudden, I am thrown in with hundreds of people, eating breakfast and lunch with them starting at 7:45 a.m.. Last night, there was a group dinner so I was with people for a twelve hour stretch. During a break, I went and hid in my hotel room, just so I wouldn't have to talk to people.

Now I think I can very slightly relate to people who are depressed. I can see why they want to be alone and shut down. 

In one of today's sessions, someone talked about the Human Stress Curve in dealing with a crisis. According to this chart, which I re-drew, I had reached the exhaustion stage. After today's sessions, I went to my hotel room, put on my bathing suit and sat by the pool and read a book.

Just as the initial quarantine was super stressful, returning to people could be just as stressful.

People

I was walking Fox early this morning through the park. Given I was outside and I have both vaccine doses, I took my mask off as I left the courtyard of my building. At the park, I saw a young couple standing on little pillars stretching their arms to the sky. At first, I thought they were doing yoga (people in Seattle do that kind of stuff). Instead, they were taking selfies with Elliott Bay in the background. They saw me with my dog, said hello and asked if I lived in Seattle. 

They were visiting from South Carolina on their way to Alaska via the ferry. In the before-times, it wasn't uncommon to see visitors from the East Coast out in Seattle at 7:00 a.m., with their bodies are still in a different time zone. 

I said visiting Alaska was on my post-pandemic trip list, along with riding motorbikes through canyons near Moab, Utah, and visiting rainforests in Central America. We talked about how cold it was in Seattle this morning, and how hot it is in the south.

"There will be long hours of daylight now in Alaska, the midnight sun thing. How long are you going to be there?" I asked. 

"Three years," they said.

"Three years? Wow," I said.

"We are in the military and will be stationed in Fairbanks," they said.

Wow again.

"It was on our bucket list to live in Alaska," they said.

This was the first conversation I've had with strangers where I could see their faces. This was the first conversation with strangers who weren't selling me food or were another dog owner walking their pet. 

I saw their smiles and felt their warmth and an ephemeral friendship as we emerged from the other side of the quarantine. I read ages ago that it is these small connections we make with people who are outside of our inner circle that bring us a necessary kind of social interaction and comfort. They were from another part of the country, heading off to adventure, and I was one of the many people they will meet along the way.

Working from Home and Homing from Work

Like many people during this coronavirus season, I've been working from home for the past four months. Or, homing from work. Sometimes I can't tell.

Overall, my job has been fine, with a few bumps as my team learns to work remotely. We recently had a mini re-organization of our roles, which for the most part has been okay. A few toes have been stepped on and there have been a few bruised egos. Most of the toe-stepping and ego bruising might have lessened had we been working face-to-face. There was an article in Medium or Harvard Business Review (they are so the same, right?) about how to successfully work remotely. I didn't read it and I probably should. I would hope it covers how co-workers can emotionally support each other while working remotely. I am not talking about holding hands and talking about feelings. I am talking about being moderately sensitive and not being a jerk.

Yesterday was a rough day at the home office. The rough day actually started two weeks ago. Each day, tensions rose and by Thursday, I was about to lose my shit. I was so glad to go home at the end of the day, but I was already home, so...I was glad to stop working?

The hard part was that I couldn't physically leave the office and go back to my sanctuary because my office and my sanctuary are the same place. I can see how people enjoy not commuting and eating lunch in their own kitchen, but I prefer different spaces for different tasks. I want to socially and physically distance from my job at the end of the day, and I couldn't because the space is the same. I am lucky enough that I have a nook where I work that is separate from the rest of my condo--not in my living room, dining room, or kitchen. But walking down the stairs at the end of the days wasn't enough to cut the edge off.

I suppose I am lucky that it took four months to get here instead of having this happen on week two.