By Mike Holmes

I came down with what I thought was a gut-flu last Thursday, the 26th of March. Because of strict protocols at work, I stayed home, but felt much better by Monday. I returned back to work on Tuesday, was screened for temperature when I arrived. This has been our SOP for several weeks now, and I only had a 99 degree temperature — well within parameters. However, I soon began feeling generally unwell, and about four hours into the day I broke into a sweat. I took my temperature again and it had risen to 99.4. I noticed I had started coughing. It wasn’t a lot, but rose my internal alarms. I went home immediately and passed out. I sweated through the night with fever dreams and called Teladoc in the morning. My diagnosis is presumptive based on symptoms, but since I am in the DC area where we are approaching 4,000 confirmed cases, testing is impractical. It takes too long, and there simply aren’t enough tests for our major metro population.

So, I’m staying home, riding it out, and checking my symptoms. If I reach a trigger point, I will call for an ambulance. What does that mean? I am watching my temperature and looking for respiratory distress. This seems to be the biggest danger with corona virus. My best tool is an app called Oximeter that costs $4.95. I use it almost hourly to check the oxygen level in my blood. I have been advised to call Emergency Medical Services if my O2 drops below 92%. So far I am ranging between 99% and 97%, usually in the higher range, so… so far so good.

But that does not mean I feel well. I do not. I go through fever cycles with sweats and very strange dreams. I sleep for a dozen hours straight, which except for the dreams, are largely not interrupted. I am constantly fatigued with little interest in doing anything. Even getting up to use the bathroom initiates internal mental debate about how badly I really need to go.

So far, my higher intellect has won those debates.

Gastric distress has also been in play. I force myself to eat at least a can of Amy’s Soup for some healthy vegetables and I have two bags of clementine oranges for snacking as needed. But generally, I’m not hungry.

I am also alone. And that poses a very strange dilemma for some so extremely extroverted, yet ill with no energy. When people call, as much as I appreciate it, I often just don’t have the energy to participate in a conversation. Since this thing seems to go through cycles throughout the day, it really just depends upon how I feel at the moment how long that conversation will last.

I am not terribly worried about surviving this thing. The course of my life has rendered me pretty fatalistic. Everybody’s going to die of something, so I don’t lie in fear or excessive worry. I watch my pulse ox and symptoms, and if I see them trending south, I’ll call 911, drag myself outside with my wallet and toilet kit, and wait for the ambulance so that EMS won’t have to expose themselves to my contaminated home.

In the meantime, I’m as comfortable as I can reasonably be, given the significant physical impact of this disease.

And I have more than enough toilet paper.