Midlife crisis: ‘I believe there’s nothing wrong with me – other than having Covid’

Is not. I’m a bit annoyed that there’s nothing wrong with me. And yes, I understand I should be happy and grateful for this. I should be glad to be the result of modern medical technology and, I like to think, my own amazing immune system, fueled by swimming in the ocean and Revive Active and all the habits and substances that come with it. My crazy addition, I have won Covid.

I should be glad. It came and did the worst for me and I’m fine. But there’s something odd about me that prefers being sick. I can’t go to work, I can’t do many things, not because of my illness but the result of a faint line on the test.

At first, I thought I would dodge it completely. When two of us started to feel sick and confirmed it immediately with tests that immediately lit up like a Christmas tree, I remained expressionless, either in symptoms or in a test. check. I decided that I had to have it at some stage. I was super immune. I looked up the rules for close family relationships. There is no such thing, it seems a bit reckless. I celebrate my freedom by opening a quick grocery store, covering my face. But it doesn’t feel right to me that I can go on with my life unhindered. And if I do, let’s face it, the others will want to kill me.

The next day, I received a very light line in a test. I did three more times on three different test brands and all was clear. I decided to do a fifth antigen, just to be sure. Erase for about 10 minutes, and then the slightest sign of a line. The game ends.

The strange thing about being confined to your home but not getting sick is that you can start acting like a sick person. On the first day of detention, I finally forced myself to shower in the evening and put on some clothes. Clean and fully clothed, then I go down and watch a random movie, just because I can. There is no constant diet news for me this week. Then it was time to take off my clothes and go to bed again.

By Day Monday, I realized that the greatest danger I faced was death from bread products. All the people I don’t even think about dropping bread products around when they’re isolated are more than happy to drop around all sorts of beautiful bread products. It is very easy to become a routine of the day into a prolonged meal of bread products. I didn’t even add any filling. I don’t mind cheese or ham or tomatoes or anything. Only butter.

I alternate between sugar-free bread products, with butter, and then sugary bread products. I started to hate myself, so I drove to the beach in the middle of the night and ran away. Not another sinner around and my fastest 5km of the month. Listen, Covid.

The last member of our group, still unidentified, walked out of the room, bitterly disappointed. I think she feels left out. Luckily for her, she eventually started coughing. Since she is technically a vulnerable person (vulnerable to my ass), I considered taking her in for a PCR. I take it as anxiety for her, but in reality I know it’s just a ruse to get me out of the house. I’m going to shower and get dressed and drive her away. Maybe I’ll wear a tuxedo or something for my big outing.

For me, I’m lucky enough, so far, to touch wood, that beyond the vague guilt of a survivor as I spin around the house of the plague, Covid’s real test is about a thing. And it’s about learning to stop and accept that sometimes time is just wasted. The first day I managed to read a work book for the following week. So I still feel productive. But I think, in the end, I have no choice but to give in to laziness and bread. I need to face life without being distracted by work, be productive and get things done, and use my time to grow and develop and learn. I need to learn to stop.

But I’m afraid I’ll get used to it. I spent 30 years on a journey to deny my inner laziness. If I let him out to play again, who knows where it could end up?