I was only thinking a week or two ago how long it had been since I’d been ill. Oh, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune: fast forward to Monday, and I was knocked flat by Covid-19 – like it’s 2020, all over again.
Fast forward four more days, and I’ve got just about enough energy to walk upstairs, but I have to have a little rest along the way. I also have a cough that’s making me bend double through wheezing, hacking fits, a streaming nose, sore eyes, a headache and a constant temperature – you know, the type where your skin feels so sensitive to touch that even the insides of your ears, hurt? That.
I am also having the kind of dreams you usually only have after you’ve worked your way through an entire cheeseboard at Christmas. On the first night, I dreamed I fell out of an aeroplane and woke myself up in a shuddering halt by shouting “…it’s just a dream!” – and that was a good night. I remember this from the first round of Covid five years ago, too.
I was meant to be getting the Tube into town on Thursday, though, to spend all day working in a newsroom full of people. So, in a move that made me feel like I’d suddenly been transported back to five years ago, when the pandemic first hit, I asked a friend to pop out and grab me a Covid test.
I don’t think I would even have thought of testing if the symptoms hadn’t felt so darn similar to the days of Omicron and Delta – after all, I have been recently training for a 10k run at the end of the month, so I am used to bits of my body protesting when I get out of bed in the morning. But this time, I felt like I’d been run over.
I didn’t really expect it to be positive – who even gets Covid anymore? It’s so retro! Yet there it was, before the line had even finished creeping up towards “C” for “control”: a bright red “Test” result that was undeniably positive. Suddenly, without warning, I was in isolation.
I have, I presume, the latest Covid-19 variant “Stratus” – which has within it two versions: XFG and XFG.3, with XFG.3 accounting for 30 per cent of cases in the UK, right now. Some experts have suggested the Stratus variant is known for its unique symptom of giving people a hoarse voice, which could account for the fact that I sound a bit like Dot Cotton (RIP).
What has surprised me most, however, has been different people’s reactions. One friend was so unused to seeing Covid tests that when I sent her a photo, she thought it was me announcing I was pregnant – showing just how uncommon it is, now, to test. And I admit, I probably wouldn’t have even thought of doing so if I hadn’t been about to go to such a crowded place. I certainly didn’t have any to hand – and had to pay a fiver to get two single-use kits.
But other people were shocked that I was self-isolating at all. One person looked at me blankly when I said I wasn’t able to go to work, saying: “But Covid isn’t even a thing, anymore – is it?” Another told me I should still come to a birthday dinner, because “Who cares?”.
Talk to someone who’s immunocompromised, though – and they care. They care a lot. One colleague who was recently very sick with Covid told me: “It knocked me flat, at the end of my holidays. I had a blinding headache, sore throat, exhaustion, lack of appetite, muscle aches, an upset stomach and nausea. It lasted for about a week, but I’m still feeling absolutely wiped. I have no energy, which really isn’t me. It really is a swine.”
And he said that his wife – who’s immunocompromised – was stunned to be asked why she was still bothering to test. “We wouldn’t have been questioned at all if it was ‘just the flu’. Covid can still be worse. I’m getting reminders about the flu jab, but I’m not even on the Covid booster list, this time.” I get it. My dad, who’s 73 and in great health, was bed-bound with Covid for a week.
It’s not just the UK, either. In California right now, the number of Covid cases doubled in August – and are growing so fast that people have been urged to wear masks indoors, again.
The current NHS rules for isolation after a positive Covid test are clear: try to stay at home and avoid contact with other people for five days after the day you took your test (if you are 18 years old or over – it’s three days for under-18s). You must also avoid meeting people who are more likely to get seriously ill from infections, such as people with a weakened immune system, for 10 days after the day you took your test.
It’s basic common sense – and I hate the “who cares?”, “me-first” culture that leads people to ignore the fact that they could be putting vulnerable people in serious danger. The small-minded selfishness of antivaxxers and those who spread misinformation about Covid vaccines – yes, I’m also talking about the US health secretary RFK Jr, who has made myriad false and misleading claims about vaccinations, including Covid-19 – puts people’s lives at risk.
And it’s not just self-involved to be this myopic in the face of evidence – it’s dangerous. After all, UK Health Security Agency (UKHSA) statistics tell us that Covid cases in hospital patients jumped by almost a third in a fortnight in August alone. And it’s sparked concerns of a new Covid wave in the UK, where the number of hospital patients with respiratory symptoms testing positive for the virus increased from 5.8 per cent on 26 July to 7.6 per cent on 10 August. That marks an increase of 31 per cent in just 15 days.
To me, it’s as simple as this: I have Covid and feel like c**p – and I don’t want anyone else to get it and feel like I do. So, until I’m better (and non-infectious), I’ll be staying put at home, out of harm’s way. You should too. And that’s why – if you think you have an “end of summer cold”, you should probably do a Covid test first.
