It’s official, dear readers. I contracted COVID. Yes – it is all it’s cracked up to be – and more. Way more.

Before the semester began, I learned of at least 10 cases on campus. So as we reviewed the syllabus on the first day of class, I informed my students that I would be monitoring the uptick in infections and would determine if we needed to wear masks. Besides the fact that I’m of a certain age and have an autoimmune disease, my classes are huge. There are 30 students sandwiched into classroom spaces designed for no more than 20. And the athletes are enormous and take up an awful lot of space. I am essentially standing in the middle of human petri dishes. Half-listening, they all nodded.

Sure enough, on day two of class, one young man emailed me that he would not be attending because his mom had tested positive and he did not want to infect me or his classmates. He would wear a mask when he returned 10 days later. Thank you for being so considerate, keep reading, stay safe.

Except 10 days later, I was on my way to Tucson because my daughter was in the ICU with a rip-roaring infection and internal bleeding unrelated to COVID. Well aware that I would be exposed to a gajillion travelers, many of whom were unvaxed or even unwittingly harboring the virus, I wore a mask. Ever the people-watcher, I noted that perhaps twelve people in the terminal were also wearing masks. The only other passengers on my flight sporting the familiar accessory were an Asian couple. The Tucson airport was no more reassuring.

In the lobby of the hospital was a table holding boxes of masks. Each time we visited, I scooped up fistfuls and wrapped them in paper towels, planning to distribute them to my students when I returned. I was stunned to note the appallingly high number of unmasked visitors, including to the ICU. Other than hospital personnel, no one in the unit wore a mask. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were uninformed, uncaring, or just plain stupid.

Nicole’s condition didn’t improve substantially while I was there. Nevertheless, she urged me to return home, get some rest, and come back. I could always teach remotely from her den. Eerie echoes of COVID, Part One.

I did not sleep well that night. No surprise there. I was worried about my daughter. However, this was different. I rarely remember my dreams (what a pity for a writer), but these were more like hallucinations. I woke up unrested and unable to move. This was not a lupus flare. My arms and legs were like tree stumps, and my joints were unbending. ‘O Theos me fotise’, and I took a COVID test.

And there they were. The telltale double lines.

It was Labor Day, so my doc was unavailable. Advil didn’t help much. I quickly typed a message on the Patient Portal, and first thing the next morning, he sent out a Paxlovid prescription. I had to go to three pharmacies before I could have it filled. I also purchased Delsym, vitamin C, D, and zinc. I spent the next week in bed, coughing, sneezing, sleeping, downing meds, sucking broth, and thinking.

The coughing scared me. I’m not a big person, but that cough sounded like it was coming from Dwayne Johnson. And it just wouldn’t stop. It was a miracle I didn’t rupture anything or spit up a lung. Sorry for the graphic description, but this was no game. And the whole time, I couldn’t help but think of all the people who suffered and died during the pandemic. The people who didn’t have access to vaccines or Paxlovid. The people who suffered and died alone. My friend Lenys.

I was alone by choice. I sent everyone away because I didn’t want to risk more infections. I also definitely didn’t want the hovering. I had everything I needed, and they were a phone call away. But my daughter was alone in the ICU miles away, and that was more painful than anything COVID could lob at me.

After 10 days, the coughing subsided, and I tested negative. I still had no appetite, and I definitely had no energy. I still don’t. I taught remotely for a week, testing myself to see if I could handle three hours straight of ‘The Iliad’. I was okay, but, boy, as soon as the classes ended, I just curled on the couch and watched Hallmark channel.

I returned to campus this week. We’re all wearing masks, and I’m still puny. Two students have tested positive. Nicole is home, but I don’t know when I can visit. I have to wait until December to get my COVID booster.