Pandemic Essay

I had COVID-19 for a Little Over Two Weeks, and When I Woke up the World had Changed

I feel like Rip Van Winkle

I feel a little like Rip Van Winkle, who slept for twenty years, and when he woke up the world had changed.

After returning from the Dominican Republic on March 8th (flying through Miami International and LAX), I spent two weeks with an extremely high fever, which frequently spiked all the way up to 104.7° F. My husband also had a fever, although his peaked out at 101.7° F. Our doctors were certain that we had the coronavirus, especially since we completely lost our sense of taste and smell (this is turning out to be a key diagnostic tool for the COVID-19), had very tight chests, sore throats, aches and dry coughs.

But tests in Orange County, California were few and far between at that time, and mostly being reserved for those who might need to be ventilated. So we were told to ride it out at home (because there was really nothing the doctors could do, and we would just be exposing medical personnel to the virus) unless we were having major breathing problems, in which case we were supposed to go straight to the hospital. (*Author’s note — we had the antibody test on April 9th and both tested positive).

Our chests felt like they were gripped by iron fists. And hearing my husband’s cough sent little spirals of terror around my heart. We were “winded” just going up the stairs, which was crazy since my husband is a cyclist and I am an avid hiker. But our lungs, thankfully, did not fill with fluid. I was pretty sure that I would be all right, but I was very worried about my husband since he is sixty-one. I am fifty-three. We’ve been together for thirty years. I just couldn’t imagine a world without him.

It turns out, he had what would probably be considered a mild case of COVID-19 that lasted sixteen days. He still has a little cough, but he’s had no fever in almost two weeks now. I ended up getting much sicker than him, with a whole extra week of extremely high fever and a lot of abdominal pain, nausea, and vomiting. But, I have now been fever-free for several days.

A search for how to live in the new paradigm

While I was so sick, I had thought that I would catch up on the huge stack of magazines that I had accumulated and not read. I also thought that I would read Isabelle Allende’s new book, A Long Petal of the Sea. But, it turns out that reading with a fever does not result in much clarity. I would read something and then forget that I had read it. It all just seemed muddled.

And, weirder still, there was a huge incongruity between the topics of the articles in those older magazines and the current state of reality. They were all “pre-COVID-19” stories and seemed weirdly irrelevant.

Of course, those stories are not, really, irrelevant. Topics like mindfulness and gardening tips are very important. And they are extra important right now when we all need something else to focus on, other than this terrible virus and the way the world has suddenly shifted beneath our very feet.

Now that I am feeling better, I find myself searching for templates for how to live in this new paradigm. I keep seeking out personal stories about how people are coping.

I have read stories by emergency room doctors and nurses, by a wife whose husband was taken by coronavirus, and by employees at grocery stores and delivery warehouses. And I have read stories about friends lunching together via zoom.

Even though I haven’t left my house in three weeks now, reading these stories about how other people are dealing with “now” has helped me adjust.

Virtual yoga classes and law offices

I am a yoga teacher. While I was sick, Yoga Works, the studio where I’ve taught for the last twenty years, shut its doors. So did every other yoga studio in California. Many of my fellow teachers almost immediately started teaching online classes for donations. Now, three weeks later, many of them are actually thriving in this new environment.

I am hearing that they are touching many more people online than they did in person. And they are also taking classes from people all over the world. I have been toying with trying to get an online class going, but my body is still a little weak just now. But I am watching others succeed in this new “online world,” and I am getting a little excited about the idea. I think I may start with some “live” meditations.

It has been interesting to see how people and businesses have adapted to the current state of the world. It seems very obvious that we need to let go of the old paradigms, many of which really were not working anyways. Those who adapt will thrive. And those who don’t, won’t. It’s just that simple.

My husband started his law office twenty-five years ago. He now has three partners and twenty-three employees. He had to shift the entire operation to “remote” status. The lawyers are having zoom conferences. The bookkeeper is working from home. It was pretty crazy at first. But we are lucky. He had set up a new system for keeping track of time and projects earlier this year. And it seems to work beautifully with remote access.

Yes, we will lose money. Yes, we will have clients that cannot pay us. We still have to keep paying rent on an office that we probably won’t see for many months. But we have applied for a small business loan, and we are doing our best to keep everybody employed.

Mourning the loss of plans

We need to acknowledge that it is all right to mourn the loss of things we had planned. My sister, husband and I still have a trip scheduled for Scotland in June. We’ve been planning this for a year. The tickets are paid for. The Airbnb’s and hotels are paid for. We’ve been counting down the days until we could see the ancestral home (or what’s left of it anyways) from my grandfather’s side.

But, I really don’t see how this trip is going to happen now. Even if my husband and I have immunity from COVID-19, and could travel without fear of getting sick, I highly doubt that we would be well-received in Scotland, or that anything we want to see, like Inverness, would even be open.

So, for now, I am editing photos of our recent trips to the Grand Canyon and to the Dominican Republic. I think I will also get around to finishing up editing and organizing photos of our trip to Norway last summer. In a way, the memories of these trips seem almost sweeter now that I know that we are not going anywhere for a while.

Self-isolating in Laos

When we first returned from the Dominican Republic, on March 8th, things were just starting to get a little crazy here in California. While we were away, Italy closed its borders and several universities had sent their students home. “Shelter in place” seemed like it was probably imminent.

That week, I spoke to a friend of mine in Florida. She and her husband were still planning a weekend trip to Miami. They had just moved into a new house, and she had contractors coming over. The beaches and golf courses were still packed. I tried to warn her about what was coming her way, but I don’t think that she really “got it.” She does now.

I also remembered two young friends of mine who were both teaching yoga in Sri Lanka and in Laos. I urged them both, especially the twenty-eight-year-old, to come home before it became impossible to do so. At first, they both felt like it was all going to be fine, and that they were both just going to stay where they were. Then the retreat centers where they were teaching closed.

The younger one realized that all of her friends were racing to find flights home. Then Europe closed its borders. In a bit of a panic, she found a flight through Dubai. Then her flight from Sri Lanka was cancelled. She was able to get on a later flight, but she missed her connection. She had to spend the night in Dubai, where it seemed as if no one had “gotten the memo” about COVID-19.

There was no social distancing, no precautions. When she got on her flight the next morning, she wiped down her area with sanitizing wipes, but she said she didn’t see a single other person doing the same thing. She, thankfully, seems to have escaped getting sick though.

My other friend, who really isn’t fond of Orange County, decided that she would rather take her chances without a job in an agrarian country, where people grow their own food, than here, where it would likely be impossible to find a job. I “zoomed” with her last night, and she is hunkering down with the other yoga teachers in the huts where they had all been living. She’s very bright and adaptable. I have a feeling she’ll be all right. I respect her choice. But I do worry about her.

Taking a walk — wow the sky is blue

My husband and I ventured out the other day for our first walk since getting sick. I kept hearing about how much better the air quality is everywhere, and about how the dolphins and whales are coming much closer to shore. But, I hadn’t seen beyond my backyard since all of this started.

We huffed and puffed our way up the hill at the end of our street, to a neighborhood loop where we could see the mountains to the north and a glimpse of the glimmering ocean to the west. I can’t remember ever seeing the air so clear. The sky just seemed bluer. And the ever-present traffic noise that hums in the background was almost silent.

We moved into our house, which is sort of “in the country” for Orange County, California, twenty years ago. We loved it because it is quieter here. We grow a lot of our own food. And we have dedicated the yard to the birds, butterflies, and bees. We’ve licensed it with the National Wildlife Federation as a wildlife sanctuary. But, over the years, the roads around us have gotten busier. More houses have been built.

But looking out at the mountains and ocean the other day, I almost felt as if we’d gone back in time, to a quieter era.

Although the virus is a scary thing, I feel like, perhaps, it has jump-started the world into a new “golden era,” a time with less pollution, a time when people actually want to communicate with one another without being tempted to pull out their cell phones.

Eventually, things will settle down. People will return to work. Life will move on. But I really do hope that we will be able to retain a bit of the goodness that has come from this upheaval. The world will be a better place for it.

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Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies). Erika is also an editor for Mindfully Speaking.

Story and photo ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.