Modern Day Doctor’s Visit

So, I went through a modern day scare yesterday. The backstory is this: Saturday morning I woke up with laryngitis and not even a bad case of it. My voice was just a little raspy. I had been swimming in our pool the night before and I had slept deeply, so I assumed the cocktail of chlorine activated lungs, mixed with some likely mouth-breathing during my deep sleep, helped to create my hoarse, gravelly sounding voice. I had plans to meet four of my dearest friends at a local park shelter (socially distanced, of course) on Saturday morning, so in a text prior to our planned meet-up, I mentioned my laryngitis, and I also mentioned that I had no other symptoms of sickness. No one seemed too concerned and we all had a wonderful visit, keeping our chairs a good distance apart from each other. The rest of Saturday, I felt fine. However, by Sunday, a cough had developed and by Sunday night, I was coughing up a storm, and I was very tired. On Monday, I knew that it was time to call a doctor.

I had my first telemedicine call of my lifetime, late yesterday morning. My doctor is always a bit late for my appointments, and she remained consistent in her ways, but this time, I could go about my business in my house, and I received a text when she was ready to meet with me. In the beginning of quarantine, in a whirlwind of hypochondria induced panic, I purchased a high-tech thermometer, an automated blood pressure cuff and an oximeter, so I was able to give her all of my readings. Everything was good. I could smell and taste anything and everything, and I know this, because I was checking out my scent and taste senses, every five minutes. I had a normal temperature, and my other readings were all normal, but my major symptom was this annoying, persistent dry cough and a tightness in my chest. Before COVID, I would have just written this off as a chest cold and not even a particularly bad chest cold, but in the throws of COVID, I was starting to think about my will, and if my will was updated. I started panicking about my family members, and my friends who I had just met with on Saturday, and an overwhelming feeling of responsibility and shame, washed over me. Did I really need to go shopping last week, just for the hell of it? Was it worth my health, and the health of my family and of my friends, to check out the Steinmart liquidation sale? Yes, I had worn a mask, but are masks really full-proof??? What’s the latest science on masks say today?! Why did the FEDEX delivery man not wear a mask, when he needed me to sign for a package, and more so, why didn’t I insist on him wearing a mask before I did sign for it?? What was even in that stupid package?!? Oh yeah, it was a ridiculously overpriced, pretentious perfume sample that smelled bad. Was anyone’s death worth me trying out a stinky perfume??? Why do I even need perfume right now? The only regular outings I really go to now, are cursory trips to the grocery store, and occasionally to places like Steinmart. Before COVID, it would never have even crossed my mind to go to the doctor with my minor, pedestrian symptoms. I would have felt silly and hysterical. But yesterday, I was inches short of an anxiety meltdown, on top of my annoying, persistent cough.

As expected, my doctor ordered up a COVID test for me. I think by her witnessing my wild eyes and sensing through the computer screen and our wi-fi connection, my high intensity worry over exposing my family and my friends (all middle-aged women with families of their own, including husbands with pre-existing conditions, and one gorgeous, little grandbaby), she felt it necessary to order a rapid test for me. I had to jam a mile long q-tip up my own nose, which caused my eyes to water incessantly, but that was a good release for the tears that had been building for hours in my eyes, as my wild imagination had already conjured up images of hospital rooms, and plastic tubes all over the place, and funerals, and sadness, and shame, shame, shame.

Fifteen minutes later, the results were texted to me. Negative for coronavirus. Thank you for answering my prayers, God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. These are crazy times, indeed, bringing my own unique brand of crazy out, in all of its shining glory. Now, at least I can cough in peace.