So, having Covid is a bit rubbish.
Managing to possibly give it to both your parents doesn’t come close. I mean, we don’t 100% know that it was down to me, but I looked after Mum on the Monday – feeling fine -, coughed a fair bit Monday night and tested positive on Tuesday.
Well, actually, I did four tests because they couldn’t seem to find any consistency between them with one positive, one indecisive, one negative and another positive. But the PCR test 9the big one) was positive and that’s what mattered. Mum and Dad didn’t test positive for a few days, then…argh.
Dad didn’t seem too bad. Mum was offered special treatments because she is still having chemo, but multiple phone assessors agreed she wasn’t poorly enough. Which is great and not so great in equal measures. Of the three of us, Mum suffered the most, but thankfully is now feeling back to normal, happy that her ten days are up, and dad is taking her out for a coffee and a scone today.
I’m just writing this post for posterity really. Which is funny as I don’t really want to remember the utter panic and the ‘was it me?’, but it feels important in some ways. And being quite good at reframing for my clients, I have managed (now I know I’ve not killed them) to turn this into ‘by giving them Covid, I’ve actually given Mum and Dad more defences against it’. I think…