Life In Quarantine – The Bullshit Continues

Today is day 7 for Sharon in the hospital. As far as updates go… I’m not sure exactly how to go about this. Should I do the “good” first… the “bad”… I don’t like to “doom & gloom” the shit outta y’all. But on the other hand…I don’t want to paint a rosy picture that doesn’t exist, either. Okay… let’s start with the “bad” and see where this takes us, okay?

The Bad: They tried to wean her off the oxygen yesterday. She promptly tanked. Today they went back to her (rather high) O2 levels and she did better. She still occasionally spikes a fever. The chest x-rays show no significant improvement to her lungs… they’re still 75% filled with fluid (roughly). She still cannot lay back even in the least… she starts gasping for air if she isn’t sitting at a full upright position. She may be coming home with an oxygen tank, and this may, very well, be the “New Normal” for her. But then, we’re not sure of this yet. What we do know is that any form of recovery, even partial… is going to be a very long road.

The Good: She’s not getting any worse at the moment. She’s in relatively good spirits, all things considered. She likes the food, there. Then again… so do I. Their meatloaf is incredible.

The Questionable: We know that we’re dealing with heart failure, sepsis, pneumonia and other issues. She has tested “negative” for COVID. However… my next question to the doctor is: People are testing false negative all the time. The test relies heavily upon the presence of antibodies in the bloodstream. But people with immuno-compromised systems don’t produce enough antibodies… so, the symptomology matches COVID… but she’s testing negative… and it’s occurred to me that the tests are shit to begin with. I pray to God I’m in error. I probably am, right?

Considering what she’s going through… I now don’t feel like I have the right to complain about anything. I feel guilty bitching about my diabetes being out of control, or the aches and pains I go through… or that I’m feeling a little sick with a low-grade fever of 99.8. It matters. But it really doesn’t matter, does it? Petty shit compared to a woman I love gasping for air in a hospital with COVID patients literally one floor above her.

Isolation. Well… it was fine with me as long as it was with her. Right now, it seems unbearable. I’m about ready to pound my head against a wall. I even miss our bickering. There are a thousand things that run through my mind every minute… but mostly I remember our last fight and what a fucking asshole I was… and how sorry I am… and she knows that, too… because I tell her frequently. It’s not like we’re not okay… we’re good… but this is a reminder to myself that you should always value people enough to not say things you might not have the chance to take back. I was lucky this time. And I don’t deserve her, by the way. She’s always been too good for the likes of me. Let’s get that straight, right now. Up until my 40’s, I think… I went through life blissfully unaware of how my actions effected others…not purposely trying to do anybody any harm, but nevertheless, sometimes leaving a damage path that required an army to clear and rebuild. I’m not proud of that at all. The things you realize when you sit in a trailer all by yourself under quarantine… recognizing that this very likely could have been your life on a permanent basis if someone didn’t come along to love you, in spite of the fact that you’re an asshole.

I’m done talking tonight.