Eventually, I kept saying, everyone is going to get COVID. Everyone. Eventually.

My “eventually” time came this past week. Lillian and I came home from New York with raging cases of COVID. It’s the worst disease I’ve ever had. It’s the sickest I’ve ever been. For a full week.

We came home late Saturday night. I started coughing Sunday. I went to the doctor Monday. COVID was the diagnosis. Unfortunately, because of the blood thinner drug I’m on to keep me from having a stroke, I couldn’t take the anti-viral drug to treat it. “Treat the symptoms,” the doctor said. So I had to slug it out for a week.

It was a week I was totally discombobulated.  My brain was fuzzy all week, my body ached in every single spot it had, and I was so weak I could hardly get up and down the steps to the living room.  On a scale of 1 to 10, most of the time I was a 3 at best.

It was a week I spent beating a path between my recliner and the bathroom. I had liquid running out of every orifice (well, not my eyes and ears, but the other four …) I’ve been through three bottles of cough syrup, a bottle of Tylenol and countless over-the-counter drugs that promise relief. None did.

I’ve been in bed 12 hours a day, mostly sleeping, and slept even more in the recliner. Zero energy. Complete exhaustion. I was in no danger of dying, but often felt like I wanted to. I’m 76 years old, I thought. How much longer do I really need to live?

I lost things. My appetite, for one and 10 pounds along with it. I ate a bit, but the food had no taste. My sense of smell, for another. I first realized that on one of my early trips to the bathroom. I counted that as a “plus.”

I awoke each morning hoping this would be the day I felt better. It took until this morning, Sunday that I could say I actually felt a little better than yesterday. I actually got dressed, went outside and scraped some ice off the roof. My lungs appreciated the fresh air. I think I am a 6.

As for Lillian, well, her disease tracked mine. We were one laid-up pair. But today, while I feel a little better, she’s developed pink eye and is really miserable from that. For her sake, I hope it doesn’t last long.

And so a grand two-week adventure on the East Coast, including a full week in New York, came to an ignominious end. I’d love to write a long tale about our adventures, but my energy has come to its 400-word end. All I can say is, it is good to be back on the prairie. Now I just want to get out and see it. But I’m afraid it’s going to be a few more days before I do much venturing out.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, yes, I did have all the shots and boosters. The last one just a few weeks before our trip. It didn’t matter, although it might have made my symptoms a little less harsh. But if COVID wants you, CO is going to get you.