Shit, and then you have corona

“Oh yes, bet I’ll get this?” I said that mockingly when the coronavirus had just entered the Netherlands. I don’t think anyone took it seriously back then, and that it would spread like it has, no one dared to think… At least not me. Well, about three weeks later I’m writing this from my home quarantine, in self-isolation, because wouldn’t you know it: I’ve got corona.

Two weeks ago on Sunday the symptoms started, which I initially attributed to the amount of alcohol I had the night before. Still, I stayed inside just to be safe, and when the symptoms worsened on Monday (and thankfully my body doesn’t do two-day hangovers) I could see the storm coming. The strange — and ultimately also nice — thing was that a girlfriend of mine has exactly the same symptoms and is still experiencing a similar course of the virus. So we think we caught it at the same time, maybe while exercising? But yeah, you can’t be sure of that and it doesn’t really matter. It’s nice that someone understands how awful you feel and vice versa.

So, stay inside. Because I live in Amsterdam, I could download the Luscii Vitals app from OLVG. There you can enter your symptoms and temperature. Super neat; I was called by OLVG after just one day who could then ‘diagnose me remotely’. Verdict: coronavirus. That didn’t really come as a surprise, but it was still very nice that they took it seriously and contacted me so quickly.

I had already kind of diagnosed myself, you know. Waking up multiple nights because you’re gasping for air (that shortness of breath is really no joke) and the most bizarre pain in my whole body that I’ve ever had. Muscle pain is the closest thing to it, but then really o-ver-all: in my calves, back, even my hands — in the evening I often couldn’t even hold my phone anymore. The dry throat and headache topped it off. Fortunately, the really high fever stayed away from me, just a bit of an increase making you feel like a dishcloth.

And then comes the relief: I finally feel a bit better. Hallelujah. Last Sunday things were a bit better and I immediately fell back into my old patterns: that needed to be toasted. How good wine can taste when you crave it so much. Monday was also fine and I was already making plans to maybe go grocery shopping by the end of the week. A real party. Tuesday, however, threw a spanner in those plans, because the relapse I now know about hit me pretty hard.

I had read online that this coronavirus comes back really hard. I can now confirm that. Last night I again slept for only 2 hours because I couldn’t breathe. Zero energy. The side effect now is the crying fits because I — pardon my French — really want to go outside. That’s not happening just yet. And when I think about the very real chance that I won’t be able to sit on a terrace, go to a restaurant, or drink a draft beer for the next 2 months, the dam has completely broken. Yes, yes, I know, there are worse things in the world but living for two weeks in thirty square meters, alone, is not doing me mentally very well.

So dear people. Please. Stay. Inside. I don’t want to play the spokesperson and I’m actually glad that I got it and not my father or mother, who are in the risk group. But really, if you can prevent even one person from getting infected by staying inside as much as possible, that’s already enough reason.