The last 24 hours have been rather hellish. My daughter got a phone call from the big wig at her job last night (she works with autistic adults in a group home) that she was possibly exposed to Covid-19. I’m pissed that the higher up downplayed the seriousness. She basically told her that it wasn’t a major concern, as the coworker who tested positive rarely ever interacts with her.
She found out this morning from her supervisor that it was actually someone that she HAS had contact with. Nice, eh?
Well, this morning I decided to go to urgent care that does rapid testing and my daughter decided to go a little while after I did. They make you wait in your car until they’re ready to test you. It took half an hour for me. Then back to your car to await your results.
I was honestly very calm until after they swabbed my brain. Highly unpleasant, I do not recommend it.
Once I got back to my car, my daughter got called in for her test. We were parked next to each other, video chatting to help kill the time. Once my results came back (negative, thank God) I went across the way to grab something to eat. Then I came back and pulled into my spot again so that I could wait with her.
Her test came back negative as well. They’re making the staff at the group home use those N95 masks now.
I hadn’t been feeling so great yesterday. It’s so damn hard to tell if it’s just fibro or something worse. This happened back in 2014 when I had a MRSA infection that could’ve killed me. I just thought at first that I was having a nasty fibro flare.
I spent the night holding my dog and trying not to cry. My depression causes me to have suicidal ideations but when I’m facing the possibility of perhaps dying from a killer virus, it makes me realize that I’m not ready to go quite yet.
This sucker is serious. I am high risk. I rarely go anywhere. When I do, I wear a mask. And sanitize. I steer clear of people. I keep my circle small, seeing only my kid, my boyfriend, my friend, and occasionally her sister. Like the nurse said today before she stuck the Q-Tip up my nose, nobody is safe.
My boyfriend was a germaphobe before all of this started, so he’s decided to stay away from me for 14 days. I suppose that I can’t blame him. My family is having an outdoor Halloween/my brothers 42nd birthday party this Saturday but even with the negative result, they don’t want us coming over. Yet again, I can’t blame them.
The last thing I want to do is pass this shit to someone else, even if the test says that I don’t have it, some people still don’t trust it.
The only person who isn’t afraid of being near me is my friend. She’s relieved that if we don’t have it, chances are that she’s safe too.
So now I’m even more scared of Covid than I was before. I need to buy some more Lysol.