I avoided Covid-19 for nearly three years, but it has finally caught up with me. On Tuesday night, I began feeling a tingle in my throat. Wednesday resembled the beginnings of a cold. My fever began Thursday. It wasn’t until Friday, though, when I heard that one of my colleagues had tested positive, that I worried. I did my Covid test on Friday afternoon and am feeling a bit guilty that I didn’t think to test earlier. I may have spread it to others when I was feeling like I just had a cold.
Throughout the pandemic, Norway has been shockingly relaxed. Masks were almost never used here, and local doctors were actually advising against wearing masks because seeing a person in a mask would increase anxiety. We got vaccines and boosters, although later than most other European countries. Even at the height of cases, when students were quarantining at the beginning of each term, we were able to operate within our school bubble largely as normal.
For about a year now, though, quarantine, testing, etc. have become largely relics. As elsewhere, the virus comes and goes here. When sickness runs through the student community, I as a teacher never know whether it is Covid or not, even if health staff do. Once the virus enters, with students living side by side, it spreads like mad.
By Saturday, the day I am writing this post, I am definitely on the mend. My fever has come down to a low level, and while I was afraid my sense of smell was going yesterday, today I can smell better.
One observation I have had is the impact of sickness for me on feelings of anxiety. I often feel vaguely anxious, which drives my perfectionism at work. When I am grading assignments, for example, I often belabor my comments far longer than I should. Something I have noticed with this illness, and it isn’t the first time, is that when I am ill, my anxiety seems to practically vanish. I have the feeling that, well, I’m sick, and until I’m better I just won’t worry about whatever it is that I would usually obsess about. Yesterday, with a fever hovering around 100.5 degrees Fahrenheit, I gave feedback on eleven short pieces of writing and really didn’t bat an eye. It was easy.
I notice it too with my writing. I am currently hard at work on a short story draft. My norm is to hone and polish and rewrite and delete my way through probably six or seven drafts before I actually complete what I then call the first draft. I have the feeling that if the beginning scenes aren’t precisely what they need to be that I won’t be able to write later ones, because elements will change or rearrange, or a new direction for the project will come to me.
On Thursday, the day of my worst fever, I was able to make significant forward progress on the story. Friday, when the fever had lowered somewhat, I plowed forward and wrote two full scenes. Today, Saturday, my fever is almost gone. And I notice that I am feeling inhibited again. As my normal frame of mind returns, it emphasizes for me how important it is for me to keep working with techniques like mindfulness and journaling that help me recognize and reduce that anxiety. There is a lot to be gained.
I’m not sure how long I’ll need to stay in isolation. I have a few more Covid tests, which I will use until I test negative. In the meantime, I’ll try to use this time for good things–watching some TV, talking with family, a bit more writing, plenty of rest. I’ll get there.
Best wishes to you all,
Jimmy
Words like trees 