It’s been an odd week. I did another COVID test on Friday and, like the one I did the week before, it was positive. This wasn’t particularly alarming, since I heard from several people – including a doctor and a pharmacist – that positive test results are not uncommon for a while after having COVID, even after symptoms are gone and it’s safe to start going about your normal activities again.

My symptoms by that time were almost completely gone. I just had a slight case of the sniffles – similar to the aftermath of a cold, when one minor symptom hangs on even after you’ve recovered from everything else.

After my first positive test, I immediately canceled all activities and appointments for the coming week, although I felt guilty about leaving other people to handle some of my responsibilities. And I hated missing some events I’d been looking forward to. Still, there was no question about it. I didn’t go out of the house at all that week, other than out the back door to get some fresh air. I wore a mask, even in the house, in an attempt – successful so far – to keep my husband from getting COVID.

By the second week, things weren’t nearly as clear-cut. Partly because I felt so much better, partly because medical advice indicated it was probably safe for me to go out, and partly because I had more commitments I’d have to cancel or reschedule. I was able to attend a few meetings through Zoom, but for some I needed to be there in person or not at all. I chose not at all.

It wasn’t exactly the same thing, and it wasn’t nearly to the same degree, but the situation made me think of years ago, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The period of time in between the biopsy and getting the test results was agony. Those few days of waiting were the longest days of my life. But once the diagnosis was confirmed, even though it was the last thing I wanted to hear, things got easier. I knew what I had, what I was up against, and what I had to do about it. The uncertainty was gone. There was some comfort in that.

Although the circumstances are drastically different, I’m again going through that sense of discomfort brought on by uncertainty. By not knowing if I still have COVID. Not knowing if I can still infect others. Not knowing if I’m being too careful or not careful enough.

So I’m going to continue erring on the side of caution. I’ll take another COVID test at the end of this week, and hope that it’s negative. But until then, home is where my heart is. And the rest of me, too.

May 23, 2022
©Betty Liedtke, 2022

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