Covid Diaries (2022)

I have had an eventful two weeks, and so it's time for another entry covid diary. (For my official "covid diaries," see here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; here; and here). Before I get to the events: the really good news is that my symptoms are under control if and only if I avoid most social contact, avoid contexts with background noise, avoid multi-tasking, go to bed between nine and nine-thirty, and turn off all electronics a half hour before I go to bed. When I don't avoid these I am likely to have what I call head fatigue (which is a leaden feeling from the nose upward). I also spent most of January swimming daily, and during it and the hour after, I would almost feel completely normal.

The bad news is, of course, all this means I lead a very socially isolated existence. I spent too little time with my family. Have stopped hanging with friends, and am excused from work related meetings. For example, one shocking discovery has been that walking together silently is, in fact, also a form of multitasking. As an aside, when you have long covid, minor physical ailments have an outsized impact on well being because they disrupt sleeping patterns and physical exercise. Last Summer, a swimmer's ear threw me back. During the last few weeks, I have struggled with modest but persistent daily pain -- a pinched nerve in my back-- which made it difficult to sit and sleep (luckily I didn't notice it while walking and swimming). Luckily, that's not really bothersome anymore. So much for the status quo before my teaching started (this past Tuesday).

Monday last week I had an appointment at the Long Covid clinic at UCLH. My physician was new to me and a lung specialist. Despite a long delay and lunch time, she took her time to check my past case history with me and to hear about how things were going. She was the first physician I have spoken to who said that my particular symptoms are not unusual. One of her patients, a young mom, is even more noise sensitive than I am and basically can only see her baby a few minutes a day. My physician insisted I should remain hopeful despite the fact that I don't belong to the group of patients that recover after three and nine months. As long as I keep improving, a full recovery is likely in her experience.

Because of my booster shot, I was not enrolled in various trials they are running. But they are running a trial with Famoridine (an anti-histamine medicine), which has shown improvement in patients that are struggling with cognitive symptoms during long covid. And suggested I try it, too. (I return to that below.) Because there have been quite a few stories about blood-clotting, she also suggested a much wider range of blood tests than ever before.

I walked over to the blood-testing site down the hall. It was a total zoo: people yelling and cheating. There was a number system to queue, but people also could be slotted in with pre-existing appoints. After 45 minutes, I realized that at the rate they were going it would last a couple of hours before it was my turn, and the fighting and anger was not being blocked out with my noise-canceling headphones. I knew I could safely leave the queue to get lunch, but I really didn't want to return to this wild menagerie. Corona lockdowns have really changed national character because I have never seen a queue behavior like this in England. Some asking around landed me with a kind receptionist, and I booked an appointment at the blood bank first thing next morning. The next day, the nurse told me that this kind of behavior is now a daily occurrence at any time of the day. And I suspect that before long the queues will be even longer because of an absence of workers who will put up with this crap. (She also told me that my absence had been noted the day before because apparently some of my blood had been marked for research which surprised me.)

Later that day I went to my GP because I suddenly realized that there was a risk my Famoridine would not be filled before I would leave town. I spent a few days trying to charm the office managers of the practice, and trying to contact a person at UCLH. But eventually I got a text massage from one of the GPs (unknown to me) that if the hospital had wanted me to start the meds at once, they would have given me a script. Now I had to wait for their letter to the GP, and then the GP could write me a prescription. I learned this way, that in the NHS it matters quite a bit which budget pays for your medicine (and hospitals have little budge for non-urgent patient care meds). Lesson learned for next time.

The previous paragraph understates, of course, the powerlessness and energy consuming effort to get care. When I first got covid, when I was in London, I joined my family's GP practice. My London GP had then just (partially) recovered from her long haul. And she was empathic and pro-active. She left -- very clearly annoyed at how her peers had treated her -- and now I am a number in the (very large) GP practice. That same week I was in the practice with my son, and I was on my best behavior to see him get excellent care.

Because of the hip problems, I didn't feel especially well rested on Tuesday ahead of my lecture first class. (There were also other sources of anxiety unrelated to me that I am skipping.) It's a required, first year, undergraduate-lecture-course with 640 students. Under our corona rules, we're teaching in hybrid format. Class numbers are capped at 75 with a sign in system. When I went to the service desk I was told the hand-held microphone was broken. I felt my heart sink, and I nudged the desk agent to call our service team to try to fix it anyway. When I went to the auditorium, the previous lecturer was running over time. I decided to stand quietly back in the room, but making sure I was in his line of vision. I couldn't believe it that he decided to tag on another ten minutes leaving my crew very little to get me all set up. (We record lectures which is distinct system from the zoom link up we use to broadcast the lectures live.) I had to control my nerves not to give him an earful.

Once the auditorium starts filling up, I immediately realized there were a lot more than 75 students. Tim (who runs our canvas pages in the department) counted 150. I decided I didn't have the energy to try to throw half out. But I did aggressively police masking in the front rows (and banning food or drink for them). Most students were excellent about this, and the ones who protested I offered a spot in the balcony. I told the students about my long haul and warned them that I might struggle with Q&As, and probably the quality of my jokes would suffer.

Much to my amazement the sound technician showed up as I was introducing my TAs, Wais and Tomás, and Tim, and he fixed the hand-held microphones. So, while I started the lecture ten minutes late, this was a great energy boost. The next ninety minutes were a gigantic adrenaline rush. I even fielded questions during break and after. (About which below.) While I talked slower than I ordinarily would -- I had to cut a few slides near the end --, I thought it went well. I received a resounding applause, and while I usually make fun of that, this time I soaked it up. I had to apologize to the lecturer after me, explaining that I had a late start due to our colleague before me.

As a rule I don't share student stories. But the encounter with one of them after class was so memorable I'll repeat a stylized version of it to protect the identities involved. An excited student who shows up with an entourage tells me it was great, but would like to share a reservation about the syllabus. I say, 'please I welcome suggestions.' It becomes clear the student objects to me putting The Communist Manifesto on the syllabus. I say (a bit worried about where this is heading), 'why is that?' The student explains it will give the other students 'the wrong idea about Marx; it's not theoretical enough. It's too popular.' We go back and forth a bit about different genres. Eventually I ask, 'what would you suggest? Excerpts from the Grundrisse?'

'That would be good or Engels' Dialectics of Nature,' the student responds (and saying the title in English) before explaining to me how important Engels is. I ask the student if s/he read Engels in English, which elicits an apologetic affirmative answer. As I start to feel the exhaustion of the day flowing into me, I say 'look if I were to teach the Grundrisse or the Dialectics of Nature, I would have to teach Hegel first, no?' The student agrees, and castigates me for not having Hegel on the syllabus:)

I walked home through town, and with a delicious lentil soup I savor the day on the side of a canal. It takes me a few hours to fall asleep. I know I am apprehensive about how I would feel the next day. I am disappointed when I wake up with a headache around five thirty. And I know I won't be able to fall back a sleep. The headache stays with me for most of the day, but it's not as bad as last Fall. There is no nausea or dizziness. I chill doing nothing. During the afternoon I have to go to the hospital to pick up some sleep testing gear. I walk back through the drizzle along a largely unused canal (Noordhollandsch Kanaal), which nowadays turns out to provide cooling for the hospital. I realize that I am getting blister on one of my toes. Before taking the ferry back into city (see picture below) I break my low carb diet and treat myself to divine French fries with mayo and curry.

The testing gear is too advanced for me, and after futzing around with them fruitlessly I decide to go to bed without them. I sleep better than the night before, but not great; I wake up fatigued but without a headache. I return to the hospital next morning, and am informed I am not alone in struggling with the stuff. (Later that day, I learned that the test failed unsurprisingly; I will have to return for more invasive set up that they will apply in the hospital.)

By the time I am back at the university, I wonder if I'll be able to complete the lecture. And whether they have to share tapes of me again later in the semester while I am sick in bed. In my vulnerability I decide to put on a tie (which I always have available in case I have to show up in academic robes for a thesis defense in my office). As I walk into the auditorium, the previous lecturer (a different one from the dude that annoyed me in Tuesday) is wrapping up.

This time there are even more students in the hall. I am a bit more ambivalent about this lecture. The student questions were phenomenal -- always a great sign --, but the ending is a bit messy. I have to skip a few slides on material I think important, and I notice no applause. As I walk home, and I notice that the weather suddenly has improved. It's warmer and I exhale. I take pictures and grab my lentil soup. I still have trouble falling asleep. I wake up around 4am. I know a headache is lurking, but I fall back asleep. When I awake it's after 7 and I have have slept almost nine hours. I wouldn't call myself well rested -- I'll chill today --, but there is no headache. And while I will be very cautious the next few weeks, for the first time I think I may get some of my life back.