Both my kids got Covid recently. It sucked. But it did open the door for a damn good story.
It started with a class at school having an outbreak, where the whole class had to quarantine for 2 weeks. Evan was not in that class, but he interacted with a few of the students in that class pretty regularly. Because it was an outbreak situation, the school offered additional SHIELD testing for Evan’s second grade class and family members who were also interested in testing. None of us were symptomatic, but since I’m driving kids around all the time, I figured a free test wouldn’t hurt. So in addition to Evan, I signed Reese and myself up. We tested on a Friday, and by the following Sunday I received a call from the school letting me know that both Reese and Evan tested positive for Covid. I was negative. This news came just an hour before I was going to go to a baby shower and a few hours before the whole family was going to go to the Light the Night Walk (the walk we do annually for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society). Though bummed that we couldn’t go, I was thankful that we received the news before I was near my preggers friend and around a bunch of immunocompromised people.
I was in panic mode. Jamie, the kids, and I masked up, and I told them to keep distance. Jamie opened all the windows and I locked myself in the office so that I could spend the next hour contacting every person the kids were in close contact with for the past week to let them know that they had Covid. I apologized a million times and told them to keep an eye on their kids for any new symptoms. I know it’s no one’s fault, but I couldn’t help but feel like I contributed to the spread. I wasn’t so concerned about how they got it in the first place, just felt bad that they could have given it to a bunch of other people. After all, both of them were asymptomatic and in school for that week. No one seemed upset at us, but it certainly led to others having to go in for testing too. Anxiety apparently spreads just as effectively as Covid.
Once I was finished with all the phone calls and texts, I came out and spoke with the kids about what was going on. Jamie was watching the Bears game, so I don’t actually think he said much to the kids other than perhaps sit on the other couch (Bears were playing the Packers, so I get it). They seemed to want some information. I said, “Okay, so you guys both have Covid, you can’t go to school or activities for the next 10 days, and you’ll be doing school virtually during the time you quarantine. I’ve been contacting people who were near us the past few days, just in case you guys gave it to them too.” Instantly Reese started crying, like loud ugly cry, borderline tantrum style. She was screaming, “I don’t want Covid, I can’t have it, I’m not even sick.” Already forgetting to distance myself, I came to her and hugged her because I thought she was scared. I said, “You’re going to be fine. You are asymptomatic and hopefully you will stay that way. You don’t have to be scared.” She responded, “I’m not scared, I’m mad! I don’t want to miss school, I don’t want to miss soccer and gymnastics! My friends are going to think I’m diseased and will stay away from me! I hate this, I hate everything, I just want to die! I should just kill myself!” The compassion switch quickly turned off, I no longer wanted to hug her, and I was instantly triggered. I stepped away from her, not because of social distancing, but so that I could stare at her dead in the face for full effect. And I went off, “Oh, so you want to kill yourself because you’re having a bad day or because you got some bad news? You think your friends are not going to like you after 10 days? Then you either don’t know your friends very well, or they straight up suck. You think killing yourself is the best solution to fixing a bad situation? What if the best day of your life is 11 days from now? You won’t get to see day 11 if you kill yourself. You won’t even get to see day 2. You can’t take that back, it’s a done deal. Should I have killed myself when I found out I had cancer? Because it was a really tough year and I was really sick. Maybe I should have, huh? Should I have killed myself? No, I should not have, because I had a ton of fabulous days after that, and those bad days were behind me. You can’t talk like that, Reese, you can’t even have that as an option to solving life’s problems. You can’t take it back. Do you understand me?” Reese just nodded quietly. Meanwhile, Jamie is texting me from the couch, “Ooooh that was so good!” And Evan chimes in with, “Daddy, is that Justin Fields?” Clearly Evan was more interested in the Bears game than my rant on suicide.
Once Reese calmed down, we tried to lay down some ground rules. They were only to eat at the kitchen table and we’d be away from them, and eating was the only time they could take their masks off unless they were in their room with the door closed. I had forgotten to remind them to only use their bathroom, but was quickly reminded after Evan had diarrhead in a shared bathroom. Quickly my mind went to, “Is this a Covid symptom or was he shitting because he was eating Flaming Hot Cheetos and drinking a tall glass of milk because his mouth was on fire?” Then he calls out, “Mom, I have diarrhea and blood in the toilet. Do you want to see it?” Nope, I did not. All I said was, “Does it look like blood, or does it look like Cheetos?” Then I heard giggling followed by the flush of a toilet. So I guess it looked like Cheetos. Out came the bleach wipes, I cleaned the bathroom and told them to only use their bathroom upstairs from now on.
We tried to cheer the kids up (and ourselves) and finished the Loki series while having popcorn and dessert for dinner. I think the kids figured from that that the next few days were going to be screen loaded, so they probably went to bed feeling like they scored. That sent me into a tizzy trying to figure out how to manage their quarantine time with minimal screen use. I dug out activity books and puzzles for them to do, and started planning what they could do in place of all their after school activities. Spoiler alert, that shit didn’t last very long. When having to choose between personal sanity and the long term effects of prolonged screen time in children, I’m going with sanity. Once the 10 days is done, I could detox them and get them back to normal. But once I lose my own shit, who knows when or how or even if I could regain a sound mind.
I remember thinking that first night, how the hell did this happen? We have been so damn careful, far more conservative with our avoidance and safety measures than others in our family and friend groups. I was angry too, just like Reese. And I was scared. Sure, the kids were asymptomatic, but we don’t know if they’ll stay that way, or if they’ll have long term effects. In the short time that I’ve returned to work, I’ve already seen some post-covid patients, and it’s no joke. What if the kids get myocarditis? What are the symptoms? Should I Google this, or will it just scare me more? Both kids are going to have soccer games and Reese has her first gymnastics meet right after their quarantine ends, and what if they have underlying things that are lurking below the surface that I won’t know until it’s too late? Yes, the mind of an anxious person goes there. And then there are Jamie and me. The woman who called with the Covid news also told me that those who had the Pfizer vaccine had greater incidences of breakthrough infections than those who received the Moderna vaccine. Jamie got Pfizer, I got Moderna. What a pickle we found ourselves in: do we keep Jamie away from the kids because he got Pfizer, or do we keep me away from them because I had cancer? My oncologist had told me at some point that if I ended up getting Covid, that I would need to tell her immediately and she would just admit me into the hospital and treat me, rather than wait to treat me if I developed severe symptoms. But dude, I can’t get admitted. No one can enter the Newton Infection Bubble to help the kids, and Jamie has to work. That would be a disaster in itself. In hindsight, I’d have a ton of help from family and friends, but again, when you are anxious, everything in your mind is a world-ending situation. I dipped my toe in those dark and scary thoughts, and then got out of there. It was go time, I had to be rational and just make the next few days safe and livable for all of us.
The kids’ school would not be ready for virtual class until Tuesday, so the kids had a free day. I had forgotten how fucking loud they could be. But now their screaming and running around was more than just noise and chaos, it was Covid particles flying through the air. I couldn’t deal with their noise, their fighting, their neediness, so I had given them math problems and reading, a few workbook pages, a workout, and made them play outside. Was this what virtual learning was like last year and I just chose to forget about it? Were they being this way because they have now tasted the sweet, sweet nectar of in-person learning, and to be stuck at home together was now intolerable? I caved in and gave them an hour of screen time, and then I cut them off. I made them go for a walk with me and the dog, with them wearing their masks and walking behind me. Some neighbors were grilling and I said, “Ooh, those burgers smell good!” Evan said, “What burgers? I don’t smell them.” Shit, he was losing his sense of smell. Well, there went asymptomatic, at least for Evan. We only made it a few blocks when Evan started telling me he was feeling really tired and dizzy and didn’t know if he could make it any further. Shit, was this a symptom of myocarditis, or was this Evan being a lazy ass? I didn’t Google myocarditis, so I had no idea. Either way, I called Jamie and had him pick Evan up, and Reese and I finished the walk.
For the next 45 minutes, Reese and I had a very heated “conversation” about her feelings about Covid. She was still super pissed off about the whole situation, actually still denying that she had it. I told her she definitely had it and just accept it, there’s no reason at all to feel shame for it, and that she didn’t do anything bad. She was afraid to join the class virtually the next day because her friends were going to ask her how she is and why she isn’t in school. She didn’t want anyone to know she had Covid. I said, “Sorry kid, too late now. I told half the parents in your class that you had it.” She was so angry at me. What? I had a responsibility to inform them. And also, I have a big mouth, and sharing things helps me cope. Besides, that dreaded note from the principal was sent out to all the families that there was a positive case, and duh, if she was the only one not in class, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who had Covid. We talked about the questions she was nervous about, and we even role-played so that she felt prepared to talk about it the next day. I turned the situation into a “it’s not healthy to bottle up your feelings, it’s better to talk about things, good or bad” lecture. We came home both looking exasperated, and Jamie knew to keep quiet and stay away when the Newton ladies have that look. I could tell this experience was going to test all of us.
The kids had dinner in their area, and we moved all the Legos and puzzles that covered the dining room table and ate separately from them, thinking how bad this sucked. We sent them to bed early because we were just spent. I noticed we were hesitant to touch any of their dishes or sit in chairs that they sat in, and that I was bleach wiping all the surfaces they touched and doing tons of laundry, which signaled to me that our anxiety was moving speedily in a direction that we were trying to avoid. We were not handling things well. We went to bed feeling stressed for what was to come, so stressed that we couldn’t even enjoy Great British Baking Show. That show magically soothes nerves, but even that wasn’t working.
The following day was the kids’ first day of virtual learning, and also marked the point during the 10 day quarantine when shit hit the fan. Both the kids were having issues with their computers, and you know how well-versed I am with computers. I was in and out of their Covid rooms, feeling like this is not ideal. It was a constant, “Mom can you help with school? Mom can you get me a snack? Mom, I’m thirsty, can you get me a drink?” And not just the requests, but I was also still watching them like a hawk for symptoms, checking their temperatures every hour, listening for sniffles and coughs, asking them if they felt like they were breathing normally. I started hearing sneezing and coughing, and I’d yell from my room, “Who was that? Who’s coughing? Who’s sneezing?” It was Evan, now definitely showing symptoms.
I opened all the windows upstairs because I just felt like the air was filling with disease, and that’s when I smelled a skunk. It was 10am, but it was definitely a skunk. I ran downstairs and told Jamie not to let Alby out in the yard because the skunk smell was really strong and I felt like it was coming from our yard. Not entirely sure why I thought going outside to look for the skunk was a solid plan, but that’s what I did. And as I looked for spots under our deck and in our pathetic garden of overgrown weeds where a skunk might be hiding, I wondered to myself if skunk shampoo for dogs worked on humans too. I could not find any skunks, but I was convinced it was under our deck. So on top of taking care of the kids, I now had to take the dog out frequently on leash and keep an eye on her so she didn’t get skunked.
As the kids spent their school day in their rooms, I stayed upstairs with them, on-call for any problems that came up, and watched The Handmaid’s Tale. I thought to myself, well, this quarantine situation isn’t as bad as being in Gilead. When recess time came around, I played outside with them. The skunk smell was not fading. I kept saying, “Man, that skunk is really close by.” Evan responded, “What skunk? I can’t smell it.” Poor baby…although, I suppose if there was a good time to lose sense of smell, now would be it. They finished their schoolwork for the day, with lots of grunts and moans about losing internet connections. I finally just told them to keep books, word searches, and crosswords by them, and if they lost connection, just keep busy. I managed to finish The Handmaid’s Tale by the end of their school day, and I was in a dark place. That shit puts me in a mood, and I should have chosen a better show to watch during this personal time of woe.
By this time, with all the windows in the house opened, the entire place smelled like a skunk was camping out in the guest bedroom. I just happened to peek out of my window, and sure as shit, there was the damn skunk on my neighbor’s patio, chilling and spraying. It felt odd that a nocturnal animal would be sun bathing, but there it was in all its glory, just sitting there and acting lethargic. I called Jamie and the kids to come see the big skunk. As they’re looking at it from our window, it began to have a seizure. With every strange movement it would spray its stank. I made the kids leave and play downstairs because it looked like it might actually be dying and I didn’t want time kids to watch it. Jamie made some comment that maybe it had rabies. Great, add a rabid skunk to our list of shit to deal with.
As if watching a skunk suffer miserably wasn’t bad enough, Reese started playing a song on the piano over and over that she made up that has a similar melody to “Heart and Soul,” but as if the melody took a handful of drugs and had a bad trip and got in a really melancholy mindset. There was just that one sad melody that repeated for 5 long ass minutes. How did she manage to make “Heart and Soul” so gut-wrenching? She sang her made-up love song as if she was a Mariah Carey level diva, except she really can’t sing well. I felt like I was trapped in a loop of bad American Idol auditions. It was driving me crazy and I told her to just stop. Jamie said I was being very harsh with my opinions and said it was good that she was being creative and that we should foster that creativity. Insert eye roll. I didn’t have time for his positivity.
Rather than fostering her musical creativity, I told the kids to play outside as much as possible and be creative out there, but to also look out for skunks. It was just better for everyone if they were outside, well, I guess better for everyone but the dog because she wanted to be out there with them instead of trapped inside (I know the feeling). The dog started acting up and destroying her toys and the kids’ toys. I couldn’t deal with her antics anymore either, so I had the kids come back in and play with the dog. Alby went nuts, so hyper and happy to have the kids inside to play with. But hyper Alby is a jumpy and nippy Alby, which eventually led to Evan crying because she somehow nipped his penis. Of course, this is all happening while I’m on the phone. It’s silent when I’m getting sucked into the sadness of Gilead, but when I actually need quiet and am on the phone talking to another human adult, it’s Evan getting bitten in the damn dick. Figures.
I needed some quiet, so I went back into my bedroom to hide. Frustrated at how bad my bedroom smelled, I closed the window. I decided to Google “skunks having seizures,” since I was too afraid to Google myocarditis. Super, turns out seizures are symptoms of end stage rabies for skunks. It also said to keep your pets inside because there’s never just one rabid skunk in the area. Cool, so a gang of rabid skunks had heard that the Newton Covid House was a neat place for diseased beings to hang out. I told Jamie that the skunk probably had rabies, according to Google, not even thinking that his anxiety was creeping through every crevice of his mind. And boy did he take a turn. He said, “Fuck! What if that was why Alby was barking so much this morning when I first let her out? What if the skunk bit her and we didn’t know it? And she just bit Evan’s dick! Do you know rabies is fatal? Alby could die! Evan could die!” Okay, so in his mind, not only do the kids have Covid, but now Evan has dick rabies. This was getting so ridiculous and I was OVER IT!
I had to get out of the house for my own mental health. I thankfully had a volleyball game that night where I could let off some steam for a bit, and then I went to a friend’s house who got us a few n95 masks. When I got home, the kids were in bed and Jamie appeared very stressed. He said when he had to take Alby out, he was worried that some rabid skunks were going to come out to attack the dog. I’m thinking, it’s a skunk with rabies, not a fucking serial killer chasing you with a knife. I told him he could probably kick the damn skunk and run the other way. He said he was worried that the rabid skunks walked into our garage when he was not looking. This might come as a surprise to you, but I have yet to find any such rogue skunks in the garage or surrounding area.
At this point, it was only Tuesday, and we had an entire 7 days left of our sentence. I had to make some changes, or we’d never make it through this in one piece. My sister suggested that the kids eat in the dining room so that they were never in the kitchen/food prep areas. That was a good idea, because I was tired of eating with a bunch of Lego Star Wars and Harry Potter characters. I also told Jamie to keep away from the kids, stay either in his office or in the bedroom, and that I would take care of all the child care stuff, like the computer issues during school, checking their homework, keeping them entertained, and feeding them. At least this way, Jamie would have a chance to calm his anxiety down. Plus, if I got Covid, I could probably use my cancer card and get medical attention a little sooner than he would if he got it. Once I put that plan into action, things seemed to go a little more smoothly. I made sure the kids were still taken care of and they seemed pretty happy, and they weren’t rotting away in front of a TV. Jamie also seemed to slowly calm down, and I think having the n95 mask helped him also feel safer. In my infinite free time, I even tried to make a few homecooked meals they all liked to give them a sense of comfort (so Filipino of me). Evan couldn’t smell the food, but he was thankful to be able to taste it. Everyone seemed great…except me. Making sure everyone was feeling safe and secure was fucking exhausting.
By Thursday, Jamie and the kids seemed to be in decent spirits, while I was feeling run down. I wasn’t sure if I was super tired from taking care of everyone, or if I was actually getting sick. I went in to get tested again, making this the third time getting SHIELD tested in a week (totally normal, right?). After my testing and running a few quick errands, I crashed on the couch in the middle of the day. While half asleep, I heard Evan calling for me. Jamie yelled from his office, “No, don’t bother Mommy, she’s resting. What do you need?” “Nothing, never mind,” he said. What? That’s all it takes? All Jamie has to do is offer his help, and the kids wouldn’t dare bother him, so they take care of their needs on their own? Why haven’t I been taking more midday naps? Straight garbage.
Later that evening, while I was making dinner and the kids were playing outside, Jamie asked how I was feeling. I told him I felt really tired and worn down. He seemed bewildered as to why I would be feeling that way. Thank goodness I was wearing a mask because I was probably mouthing, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He then said, “Man I really miss the kids. I feel like I never see them.” I thought to myself, “Dude, go with that feeling. You don’t see them.” I began to get quiet angry, which is very unpleasant to be around, even I don’t like to be around me. Still, the poor guy was trying to have a conversation with me. He continued, “Don’t you miss them?” I answered, “No, I don’t fucking miss them. I’m always around them. I’m the one in their rooms fixing their computers or checking to make sure their doing school and not jumping on their beds, I’m the one checking their homework, I’m doing their religious ed, I’m helping with their piano homework, I’m throwing the football around with them, I’m serving all their meals and cleaning up after them. So no, I don’t fucking miss them!” He responded, “So wait, you’ve been near them? Aren’t you nervous to be around them?” I said, “Well someone has to fucking take care of them. They’re kids, they don’t take care of themselves.” I think he really thought we were both keeping away from the kids and they were somehow being completely self-sufficient. Un-fucking-believable. Did he just meet these kids? And has he met their parents? Because there’s no way our kids could be self-sufficient with anything based on our parenting skills. I finished with, “If you miss the kids, slap on a mask and play with them outside.” I ended the conversation with a frustrated sigh and some good old cold shoulder. I think he quickly picked up on the vibe and played with the kids outside. Oh Gilead, any openings for a new Handmaid? Get me the fuck out of here!
Once Friday rolled around and I got my third set of negative test results, I was feeling better. I had cooled off and was ready to continue. I could feel the kids’ viral loads lowering by the minute. Evan’s cough was getting better, and he said he could smell now, though I don’t really believe him. Reese continued to be asymptomatic and had now accepted that she had Covid. I continued to chase them around the house with a thermometer because you never know if they’ll have that sudden fever spike. The kids rolled with the virtual learning, and probably knowing that they only had 2 more days of it gave them something to look forward to. Jamie asked if it was safe to kiss me, now that we both had negative covid tests. I was like, “We haven’t been kissing all week? Hmmm, didn’t even notice.” Oops, I guess I had been pretty preoccupied. He went out that night for a volleyball game and drinks afterwards, so it was just the kids and me. I had drinks with a friend in my garage, and every time one of the kids peeked out, I would turn around and give them a look that said, “Get your Covid ass back in the house!” I let them eat popcorn, skittles, and M&M’s all mixed in a giant bowl and watch endless amounts of Ricky, Nicky, Dicky and Dawn on Netflix, just so I could sip some vodka in peace with my friend. Yep, we all adjusted quite nicely.
Early on Saturday morning, Evan knocked frantically on our door, crying that his legs hurt so badly. I got up in a panic, fumbled around in the dark looking for my mask, and rushed to his room. He was rolling around in the bed crying that his legs hurt. In my mind, I was like, shit does he have that inflammation thing that the kids could get with Covid? That’s where an anxious mind immediately goes, to the worst case scenario. I looked at his legs and had him pinpoint where it hurt. I decided it was probably just growing pains, so I stretched and massaged his legs, and told him to go back to sleep. These days I was thankful for false alarms.
The rainy weekend at Covid Campus went along fine and without incident. The kids’ energy levels and appetites seemed to be getting closer to normal, and they seemed less and less sick. Puzzles were done and redone, crafts were made, books were read, and the kids were getting antsy. By this time, screen time was a must. I still made them do mini workouts in order to earn every episode (seriously, how many episodes of this show are there?). But they were not being assholes, they were still saying their please’s and thank you’s and really meaning it. Kids always adjust way better than us idiot adults. Strange that we’re the ones in charge sometimes.
On the final day of quarantine, it was a wet and dreary day, and the weather outside made me feel like more dreadful things might be around the corner. But as soon as their virtual classes ended, the rain stopped and the sun came out, like a happy ending to a horror film (please no sequels). I felt so relieved. I made the kids pack their backpacks like tomorrow was the first day of school all over again. I couldn’t contain my excitement. Evan said he was sad to go back to in-person school because he was going to miss me so much. My heart said, “Awww, my sweet boy,” but my beat up soul said, “Bye, Felicia!”
Day 11 arrived, alarms went off for school, the angels sang, and I silently prayed, “Please God, let this be for real.” I counted the days in my head from the time they tested positive just to make sure we finished the 10 days. Evan came into our room just like he used to pre-covid to ask us what the weather was for the day and if he should wear pants or shorts, except this time without his mask. I was happy to see his full handsome face. Then Reese came in, and there was her uncovered smile. My heart was happy, but my morning mouth said, “Hurry up and get ready, or we’ll be late for school.” It felt so good to say that. A sign downstairs awaited them that said, “Welcome back to the dinner table!” I hugged and kissed my babies, I Filipino sniff-kissed them, and I held on a little longer. We finally let go and they happily got right back into the routine, and I was pleased to see them adjust from one lifestyle to another like nothing happened.
Jamie was a new person too, walking around mask-free and with the weight of the world off his shoulders. I still felt the knots in my stomach, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I used that nervous energy to disinfect the house while the kids were in school. I even called the pediatrician to ask if the kids had any activity restrictions or if there are symptoms I should watch for, and I was told they were good to resume all activities full force. And just like that, our busy schedule was back on track, and thankfully, no other shoe dropped.
Through all of this Covid craziness, we were fortunate to have just a mildly symptomatic boy and an asymptomatic girl, an overstimulated dog, a rabid skunk visitor, and two anxious parents at the brink of a breakdown. There are far worse Covid stories out there, so many tragic cases. This was not one of them. Ours is a story of how things go sideways when 2 anxious people are put in charge of a quarantine situation. People say don’t panic, we panicked. People say it’s not your fault, we felt guilty. People say 10 days of quarantine will go by fast, but 10 days took 5 years to pass. People say workout to give you some “you time,” I go eat cinnamon rolls, donuts, and M&Ms by the handful and called it therapy. In fact, one day I had opened a jar of queso I found in the fridge, and I nearly cried when I saw mold growing on it. I even considered eating around the mold. That’s pretty telling of where my headspace was at. All that advice was well-intentioned, and we ignored it. But people also offered to help in any way they can and provided a lot of emotional support. Friends and family checked on us daily to make sure we were all surviving. People were genuinely concerned for the kids’ health and our sanity. That made me feel good, knowing that if Jamie and I ended up in a mental institution after all this, there would be people out there to help the kids.
I’m not alone on this when I say Covid, mild or severe, is no fucking joke. It’s more than a bad cold or the future flu. It didn’t matter that we came out of it rather unscathed physically. It’s a mind fuck. It’s a wizard that blasts terrifying what-ifs in your brain that you can’t escape (like fucking dick rabies), no matter how hard you try. It’s a bully that dares you to put your guard down. It’s invisible herpes. You know if you saw herpes on someone’s face or genitals, you’d be staying the fuck away from them. I’m not sure why people don’t want to protect themselves from Covid in the same way. It Loki’d our lives and created so much chaos, my head is still spinning from it all. And now it’s gone from our home. For now.
Life goes on and it is masked and distanced business as usual, and soon this too will be a distant memory. But this shit was traumatizing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I felt a slight PTSD panic the next time I hear the kids cough or sneeze, or maybe even smell a skunk. So before the next bad thing strikes, I’m gifting myself 30 days of “nobody has time for your bullshit” relaxation, that’s 10 days for each human I took care of during this quarantine. The house is now sanitized, and we welcome family, friends, and domesticated animals that are up to date on their rabies vaccines. Feel free to bring booze. And queso.
The Mundame 