• A little over a year ago (late February 2022), I tested positive for COVID.
It didn’t feel right at the time to share my story since it was such a wild and scary experience so I’ve been sitting on this emergency room yarn for a year just so I wouldn’t worry friends and family.
Anyhow, now that 13 months have passed, it feels right to finally tell you all what happened on February 28 through March 1 of last year.
Note: This was written on March 6, 2022.
• I tested positive for COVID this week.
For a bit of context, New York City had just lifted the mask mandates and every news publication couldn’t stop writing about how cases were going down.
A good lesson should be learned here — maybe don’t trust mass media.
Still, I’m not here to complain; I’m the one at fault here.
All that being said, I’d like to share my experience for folks who are yet to get down with the sickness.
On Monday morning (Feb. 28, 2022), we took at-home tests. After having taken dozens of tests, it came back positive for the first time ever.
I thought it was a mistake.
We walked to City MD and they confirmed those tests were correct. The COVID was coming from inside the body and there was nothing I could do about it.
This was especially upsetting to us because we’d be so meticulous over the past two years. I’d often been the annoying “only-masker” at social gatherings and scoffed when others didn’t wear masks.
Well, I’ve completely lost that privilege.
Immediately after receiving the positive diagnosis, I wanted to play detective and find out, “Where did I get this from?”
I contacted everyone I’d been in touch with that week to see if they a) were OK and b) make sure they’d get tested if they hadn’t been recently.
No one else tested positive to the best of my knowledge. The mystery lives on (Note: And still does to this day).
Anna and I made plans to self-quarantine at home, catch up on movies and make the best out of a crummy situation. That is, until things got quite a bit more dramatic out of nowhere.
Around 2 a.m. on Monday night, I woke up after having been asleep for a few hours to go to the bathroom. This is a fairly common occurrence for me.
Anyhow, this time around, my legs felt like jelly as soon as I stood. Woozily, I walked to the bathroom and had the fleeting thought, “I should sit down.”
Next thing I know, I’m on the bathroom floor face first.
I have no recollection of falling and hitting the sink or toilet seat — it just happened.
This wasn’t my first time passing out either. In fact, it’s my fourth in the past six years.
When I fainted this time, I crashed so hard into my bathroom stand that I woke up Anna who was fast asleep. She raced to my aid and helped get me gather my senses.
Allegedly, I stood on my own and walked back to the bedroom without ever having even gone to the bathroom which was the whole point of the walk.
Then, I fell a second time.
Anna was freaking out. She didn’t want me to go back to bed because terrible things can happen to people if they do after hitting their head.
Since I’d fallen so many times before, I assured her I was fine and called it a night.
Not my wisest moment.
The next day, I went to work (again, not my wisest moment) and when my WFH shift ended, we walked to City MD for the second consecutive day.
This time around, the doctor advised me to go to the E.R. immediately or else I could potentially have a “Natasha Richardson situation” where a slow bleed could potentially kill me in five days.
City MD really needs to work on their bedside manner.
Soon after, we’re at the Mount Sinai Astoria Emergency Room. Many doctors scolded me for not coming in earlier like Anna advised. Lesson learned.
I’m feeling fine this entire time but I’m waiting on pins and needles to hear back from the doctors to hear the results of my CT scan because head trauma victims often feel fine and don’t experience any pain.
At 2 a.m. (24 hours after the initial fall), our doctor comes in and says, “You’re fine.”
It was a rush. Made me forget I had COVID and a concussion for a second.
After that, the rest of the week was much more low-key. Symptoms like taste, smell, chest pains, came and went. Honestly, the most upsetting experience was doing a basic High Intensity Interval Training workout and it was much harder on my lungs and stamina than ever before.
Hopefully, that doesn’t last (Note: It kinda does).
I’m certainly thankful I had Anna by my side for the whole experience (Note: I still am).
COVID, I give you 0/5 stars, would not recommend (Note: I stand by this).
Postscript: In the year since, I’ve come to realize that the fall was probably likely due to dehydration in addition to the illness.
What’s the point of all this?
Just a friendly reminder to stay safe and hydrated.
Plus, it’s too wild a story just to let sit in my Google Docs forever.
That being said, this anecdote did bomb horrifically when I shared it at a storytelling open mic last year so there is that.
OK, that’s all.
