Home Sick
Let’s start by being clear, I am not Homesick, I and home and I am sick. I cannot remember the last time I was sick (perhaps three years ago when I got a bad cold coming back from a conference in Rotterdam…that seems a century ago since I have nothing to do with that business any more), but I really cannot remember the last time I had to stay home because I was sick. I think Kim has seen this once or twice during our seventeen years together, but not very often and never for very long. Now that I have COVID (I can say that because I have tested positive three times including this morning), even as the symptoms recede (which they are) I have been reminded that since I am contagious by any published standards, I really must stay at home and not question that. Coming off a week-long trip as I am, that is a bit easier than if I had been knocking around here of late. But the wanderlust component of my soul is quieted for the moment, so it’s a little easier.
As I lounged in bed this morning, not feeling the need to get up and get going for any particular reason, I opened the blinds and noticed that the doves are back. We have a dove nest outside our bedroom Juliet balcony at the base of our side-foot high eagle statue (a lovely old wood and metal mixture that depicts a proud eagle standing guard over the back hillside). I haven’t studied the doves to be sure they are the same ones over and over again, but they like building a nest at the base of the statue, literally right in between the taloned feet of the eagle. We have had perhaps a half dozen egg-laying sessions in the past two years and the doves seem to have returned while we were away to start yet another sequence of egg-laying at the foot of their grand protector, the giant eagle. This nest is a mere 18 inches from the sliding glass door out to the balcony. We rarely go out there, but the doves’ presence has made that even less likely. I can be at the glass looking straight at the sitting dove and it will sense my presence, but remain calmly on the nest. It allows us to watch what doves do and its fair to say that they are homebodies of the ultimate order. One will sit on the nest until the other returns to take its place and they seem willing to just sit there brooding for however long it all takes. There are usually two eggs and once they hatch the little ones sit under their mom or dad for some time before leaving the nest, as all things eventually must. Sitting patiently seems something that doves do quite well. Much less so for me.
It is one of those days on this hilltop that would be close to ideal if I were not recovering from the Pandemic virus of the century (even in its variant watered down form further weakened by my vaxed and boosted system). It is currently 69 degrees at the warmest part of the day and so far I am in my slippers and shorts without having yet ventured into the sunlight. If it were warmer I might have gone out on the deck or the patio, but since I am getting over this respiratory virus that feels like the tail end of a cold (raw nasal passages and occasional chest rattle), I feel like I should stay indoors and warm. Let me go outside for a moment and see how that feels.
Well, it is indeed pretty nice out. I have watered the garden and am now sitting on the deck in the shade and its all very pleasant, so I really shouldn’t cry too many crocodile tears about being forced to stay home. In fact, with the exception of not being able to run errands, most of which are totally optional if I am being honest with myself, staying home sick isn’t that different from a regular day of retirement except that I don’t need any excuses for not anting to go out or see people. We all know that feels good for a few days, especially after being at a gathering of twenty or so friends with lots of chit chat, hugging and kissing (who knew at the time?) and camaraderie all doing what we love, in this case riding the roads of the high desert. But that will wear thin as cabin fever inevitably sets in. Hopefully I will test negative before that happens. Up until now I have only paid light attention to the day-counts and viral lifecycle pacing. Now I know that judging by the symptoms, I probably contracted this bug on Monday, started showing light signs Wednesday and more definable signs on Thursday with a proper test diagnosis at the end of day Friday. Today is Sunday, so I am presuming I am more or less on day four of infection. I will test each morning and expect a negative on Tuesday or shortly thereafter, but then, we all know how much this thing can vary. Someone already asked me what variant I have and I have had to shrug swine that is not something PRC testing gives you or even the Urgent Care folks gave me. I know the scientists are tracking the differences in variants, but I’m not sure we mere mortals can do anything except live with what is dealt to us as it comes to us.
While I kissed and hugged almost everyone on Friday morning at departure time (note that no one was apparently concerned about my occasional cough or sniffle like they would have been a year ago), I spent most of the day in a car with four others, one in front (I drove) and three in the back. So far only the front seater has gone positive and he did that just this morning with symptoms, having tested negative Friday night.. That means he is 1-2 days behind me and his symptoms are already starting. He is vaxed and boosted, but perhaps a bit more immunologically susceptible than me (I have no idea why I say that other than he has a malady or two I don’t). It turns out that giving him the front seat prize was like the old joke, giving him a free week in Philadelphia when second prize is two weeks there. Also, the middle seat back seat was occupied by a friend who I “rescued” from the cold of the pillion on her husband’s motorcycle. That too may have been a false prize if she goes negative.
After more than two years of being hyper-sensitized to respiratory viral infections (something only Dan Brown could have thought was a serious possibility based on his 2013 book, Inferno), it is interesting to have a close-up and personal viewing of the beast and the time to sit at home and overthink the whole thing, as I am want to do on anything. It used to be so much fun to stay home when I was in grade school. I, like every kid except the nerdiest ones, occasionally feigned a sore throat to get a day off for daytime TV, and it used to feel like a luxury. But even then, it got somewhat old after a day and really old after two days. I count today as day 1 of my quarantine and I’m not doing too bad. I think I will spend more time outdoors tomorrow and pretend I am all better instead of lounging with slippers on. I’m sure there are some asses to kick and some names to take down out there in Escondido, so I should be back on the prowl, hopefully by Tuesday. As my old pal Alice Cooper said, School’s Out for Summer, so my schedule is completely flexible and until mid-June I have nowhere to go and only what I want to do to do. For now I want to be home sick but soon I will be sick of being home,and we all know where that goes.