Covid 19 and me

The last time I properly left the house was to spend the afternoon with 88,000 others at Twickenham enjoying a great game of rugby. I had texted my friend the day before to say I’d get a taxi home after the game rather than stay at hers that evening as originally planned. I felt tired but assumed that was because of a really busy week at work. On the Sunday when I woke up I had terrible ear ache, a fever and a cough so I stayed in bed. I spoke to my boss when I called in sick from work the next day who asked if I’d been in contact with anyone who had been to Italy or China as my symptoms sounded very like Coronavirus. I hadn’t and I dismissed the idea assuming I just had an ear infection, but self isolated just in case. By the end of that week I also had a sore throat and puss filled spots on my tonsils and felt wheezy. I had a call with a GP who suspected it was Coronavirus and told me to take the recommended precautions. I live on my own so the self isolation part was straight forward.

I’ve experienced times of isolation before. My early 20s was beset by chronic pain from leg injuries. The eventual diagnoses were chronic compartment syndrome and popliteal artery entrapment syndrome in both legs following numerous tests and six surgeries. After each operation I was fortunate that I could go and stay with my parents for a month or so and recover (as best as I could given the uncertain prognosis). I would spend the time focused on getting from one hour to the next, trying not to think about the pain and breaking the day up into chunks; trying to feel like I had achieved something however small. As soon as I could I would start doing some Pilates or chair based exercises to get moving again. Exercise is my stress release. This was a time before video calls but I stayed in touch with friends by phone and text, and I wasn't alone as I had Mum and Dad to look after me. The final two operations were the most serious, one leg at a time in a vascular ward in hospital, these two operations are the times I have felt most alone in my life. The surgeon was very frank about the risk of amputation but by this point I could barely walk and the prognosis had been a life in a wheelchair so I took the gamble. I was in hospital a few days for each leg (six months apart) and the operations and recoveries were agony but worth it as each was successful. The NHS surgeon restored my ability to walk and since then my mission has been to pay back that good fortune through my work in wellbeing.

Towards the end of my second week of suspected Coronavirus I started to feel better and had a video call with a few friends on the Saturday. We celebrated with a couple of glasses of wine. On the Monday I logged back into my work laptop ready to get back to it. I had really struggled with the two weeks off as I felt guilty letting the team down at such a critical time and I felt useless not being able to help. I had spent the first two weeks obsessing about work and watching all the Coronavirus briefings so I’d be able to get straight back into work. Two hours after my return to work I had answered a few emails and had a call but realised I had sweated through my clothes and was burning up again. I had to go and lie down for the rest of the day. By the next day I felt even worse than the first week of symptoms with the addition of a terrible headache. I spoke to my GP via video call and she told me she had seen this in other fit and healthy patients like me. Day 15 is seen as the critical day and if you’re not better by this point you may need hospital or be facing a longer recovery. This encore of symptoms lasted a further two weeks, and was worse than the first two weeks. It was scary at times because of the shortness of breath which was worse at night. By this point I had accepted I would not be making a quick return to work and stopped watching all of the Coronavirus news on TV. In fact one of the weeks I binge watched the entire Downton Abbey series plus the film...quite an achievement!

On the Monday of week five the spots on my tonsils finally disappeared so I assumed that this was a sign I was on the mend. That night however I felt my airways tighten up and I was struggling to breathe. I’d had nights where I was wheezy in the weeks prior to this but not this bad. And having had panic attacks in the past through the leg surgeries I didn’t think that this was one. I phoned 111 at about 1am and after an anxious wait I spoke to a nice lady on the phone who triaged me to on to her manager after some initial questions. He then went through more questions and said I needed to speak to the on-call doctor. He warned me it would be up to a six hour wait for my call back. So I wheezed, coughed and dozed my way through to 6am when the doctor called me. My breathing rate was high but not high enough for hospital admission. He said I was better off at home, and as I was able to talk lucidly I was not in any acute danger. I sensed that he had talked to lots of people feeling as I was. So I went to bed and finally managed to sleep from exhaustion. By the Wednesday that week the cough had finally gone but I just didn’t feel better. This was of great annoyance to me having been off work for over four weeks so far! Having obsessed over the media coverage of Coronavirus for those weeks I’d seen really sick patients in hospital or people with mild symptoms who felt fine after a week or so, so I felt quite alone in my experience of the virus. Speaking to my GP periodically was helpful as she reassured me that my reaction to the virus was not all that unusual and for some people the recovery could be a long one, whether they had been to hospital or not.

The post viral fatigue that followed my suspected Coronavirus has been terrible. I’ve had illnesses and times when I thought I had fatigue but this is something else. One day I decided I really needed to clean my bathroom, given I live alone no one else was going to do it, and it was probably covered in Coronavirus germs. I spent half an hour giving it a good clean but when I finished I thought I was going to be sick and had to spend the entire rest of the day lying down. When I changed the sheets on my bed I had to have a sit down between each sheet and pillowcase change and by the end I was sweating like I’d had a workout. Another day I thought I’d reorganise a few books on couple of shelves but it took me three mornings of attempts to finish the task as I couldn’t do more than half an hour without hitting the energy wall.

My energy levels ebb and flow throughout the day and vary from day to day. The days I’ve had more energy I’ve batch cooked soup or other dishes so I had meals for the days I couldn’t cook (in the first four weeks of the illness I ate a lot of Deliveroos, soup and ice cream which soothed my throat). I’ve been lucky in that I’ve managed to get an food delivery every 10 days, so I’ve not needed anyone to bring me anything (other than paracetamol). Now at the end of week seven of my illness I am finally starting to build my strength up again. I have a home gym but haven’t been able to use much of it yet, I’ve been doing a low resistance cycle on my stationary bike, slowly building up the time, and I’ve dome some Pilates everyday. I left my flat for the first time in six weeks on Monday and managed a 10 minute walk, I felt exhausted when I got home and pretty much slept for the rest of the day. But it’s progress. I was really scared about leaving my flat as the world has rather changed since I last left it so I’m pleased I’ve got over the psychological hurdle. The GP has signed me off work until early May if I need the time, and I may well need it as I still don’t feel well. My team at work have been fantastic at keeping in touch and reassuring me that they only want me back when I’m well again so the pressure for me to return comes from me alone!

I have not felt lonely too much during my isolation. For me there is a difference between being alone and being lonely. I’m used to talking to lots of people at work everyday so I do miss the human interaction but I’ve lived on my own for a long time and I often travel alone for work or holidays so isolation doesn’t phase me. My fantastic family and friends have been in touch everyday to make sure I’m OK, and I’ve had lovely messages from my work network as well. I have a nice flat with a lovely view and an outdoor terrace. I like gardening so being able to potter about on my terrace and look after the flowers has kept my spirits up. I’ve also read a lot of books and the days where I didn’t feel up to reading I’ve listened to books through Audible. Having Michelle Obama read me her autobiography was very soothing! I’ve almost managed to stop feeling guilty for being ill and not being at work, and have been focusing my energy on getting well again. As a wellbeing professional getting well is something I know a lot about but it’s not always easy! You just have to listen to your body. I feel like my brain fog has finally lifted after all these weeks but my body hasn’t quite caught up. I have pondered a lot about sharing this essay on my experience of Coronavirus and whether it is a tad self-indulgent. Perhaps it it. But writing down my experience over the last few weeks has been quite cathartic, and as a wellbeing professional I hope that in sharing it might offer some reassurance to others in a similar boat.

I’m thankful that I didn’t have to go to hospital and my heart goes out to patients, and their families, who have been really unwell or who have died from this terrible illness. The NHS as always is providing incredible care to those who need it, and we can support them, and all the other incredible key workers, by following the recommended guidance. We will all have different experiences of this virus and it’s impact, whether we live alone, with friends or with family. I would encourage people not to compare but rather to support. Kindness and compassion for ourselves and others is how we will get through.

Stay well.

Judith