During Winter break, I started to have intermittent dizziness and fatigue. This surprised me especially because in addition to not blogging I was also not working, that is, no research, no writing, and no class prep. This is a habit I have gotten into in order to be pleasant company during family holidays. And even though our trip abroad got canceled while we were having a PCR Covid test done, I decided to stick to the plan. But near the end of the 'family holiday' at home,' the dizziness became continuous and sleep wasn't helping. After a few days of this my wife bought a sphygmomanometer (she is a surgeon), in order to learn that my vitals were all in excellent condition. My GP listened to my story, asked a lot of questions about possible symptoms I did not have; and she decided I must have stress. I joked she would have stress, too, if she woke up dizzy in the middle of the night. Dutch physicians are not easily alarmed, so we agreed to monitor the situation, and be in touch.
A few days later I awoke in the middle of the night with a debilitating headache of the sort I imagine people with migraine have. The headache did not go away during the day. That following evening I fell asleep with a dry cough. At that point, I felt panic and took a lot of melatonin to make sure I could sleep. Next morning, the cough was gone. But not the headache or dizziness. My wife decided to get me a Covid home antigen test. While there are concerns about those with false negatives, a positive test pretty means you have a high viral load. A few minutes later she looked at the result, grabbed her stuff and closed the door behind her. She said, 'you are in quarantined for the next ten days or two weeks.' I heard her calling the hospital, and canceling her lists for the following weeks. Interestingly enough, at no point did my family test positive before or since.
Much to my surprise as the days passed, the dizziness, headaches, and fatigue increased even after the end of quarantine. Initially, I continued to meet people via zoom--when other people talked I could just close my eyes and recline in my chair. But after the third of these, I noticed the feeling I was on a swaying boat had only increased. So, I finally canceled or withdrew from all my meetings. I stopped being able to read novels or philosophy, or even complete reading the books I had nearly finished. I could read and even respond to short news items shared on social media. But little else. Emails that would ordinarily take me thirty seconds became ten minute efforts.
I appreciated the quarantine because it meant I didn't have to talk and wouldn't hear any background noises. The one thing I missed, and started to miss greatly, was the lack of cuddles. One day I obsessed about the cruelty of not hugging babies in a Rumanian orphanage (a story I remembered). Some days I binge-watched Netflix; on other days even deciding what movie to see felt like a Sophie's choice.
At no point have I had any of the scary Covid symptoms: no fever, no out of breath, and no loss of smell. Each morning I would welcome the intense smell of the home made espresso my wife passed through the door with enormous joy. The dry cough never returned. The dizziness was never accompanied with nausea. The strange thing about my symptoms is that they are discontinuous with sudden switches. I could feel fresh one moment and, if I didn't have a headache, doze off with almost no warning the next. And while I was always dizzy with changes of posture, not moving could also set off the gentle rocking of the boat feeling.
In our regular chats, my GP told me to go slow, and she prepared me that this could take weeks or months to recover. When I heard that my first thought was, 'you are not saying years because it's only been a year.'
I have a strange mental disability. Phenomenologically, I still think and I feel me. My son has reminded me that I still crack the same bad jokes. But I am not really me without my books and my writing. As regular readers know, I think, writing is my therapy. Books accompany me on my inner exile and suspend whatever solitude I feel.
When I was a boy one of the class-room posters said lezen is denken met andermans hoofd. Later I have seen that quote attributed to Schopenhauer. This pleased me because I like the fact that Dutch schools tried to pass on Schopenhauer. But I don't recall reading the original. It would be pathetic if the inspirational quote were a fake; but it has always consoled me.
In my wife's family there is a man who gave up software engineering to become a gardener. As I try to project myself into wellingtons behind a mowing machine, I feel a gentle rocking of the boat. It's time to rest again.
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