COVID

10 Thoughts About Getting Sick With COVID While Long-Term Traveling in Ireland

Quintuply vaxxed, and happy about it

Who gave this shit to me?

Totally unreasonable, I know, but if I’m being honest, the thought did pop into my head and danced around up there for a while.

I sure hope I don’t give it to anyone else.

My girlfriend, Qin M, and I are merrily sharing exactly the same symptoms and on exactly the same schedule.

I’ll do my best otherwise. We’re mini-quarantining even though it’s Saint Patrick’s Day and we’d love to be out hoisting a pint of Guinness and listening to some traditional Irish music.

There’s always next year. Until there isn’t, I suppose.

I’d like not to die or end up in the ICU on life support.

Incredibly unlikely I know, but as a retired ER Doc I can still dream up some hideous scenarios not all of which are impossible.

I’m glad I have good travel insurance with a modest deductible and high coverage values.

Was in Galway, Ireland, now in Dublin. I feel safe, come what may. In four days we leave for Lisbon. I’ll be good there too.

I feel like shit.

I don’t like feeling like shit. Even thinking about feeling like shit makes me feel like shit because I have to confront and accept my weaknesses.

I know way too much to completely relax and accept my situation.

Then of course, I’ve been doing some 4 AM bathroom reading and that’s no fun at all. I’m continuing to do so anyway.

I’ve been taking Tylenol, resting, staying well hydrated, and visualizing positive things.

I have a healthy heart. I have healthy lungs — except for the cursed cough I now have 24/7. I have a healthy brain and liver and kidneys and spleen and immune system. I’m tough. I will endure.

It seemed prudent to call my son and confirm that he knows where my will is and how to step up if Power of Attorney moves are called for.

So, I did. We had a lovely conversation. He knows what’s up.

He’ll be on the first plane out if I end up seriously ill in the hospital.

My son is a great guy.

He sent me a video of his 2-month-old baby — my first grandchild — who can now roll over from belly to back. That’s not a common skill for a 2-month-old. Even the Pediatrician was impressed.

On a scale of 1 to 10 this is low-to-mid-range medical misery.

A long time ago, while on shift in the ER, my right testis decided to internally explode. I ended up near-puking, sweaty and faint on the cool bathroom tiles. Shortly thereafter I was rushed to the operating room for a scrotal exploration and testicular bi-valving (like it sounds — a cutting in half to see WTF is up) of my misbehaving testicle.

That was worse.

I’m going to have some soup.

Stay calm. Plan ahead. Tell people you love them. “Radical acceptance” is a great life strategy. Travel through life with good friends.

See you all soon. Unless the brain fog drifts in.

Feeling the need to read?

Slice into this semi-serious story.