Subterranean Homesick Blues

 It's been almost a month since I've written in this blog, and a lot has happened. I started back to school for the 32nd year and for the last time in the US. I've gotten to know my class which is full of sweet kids that are making this last year start off as a really nice one. But like most school years there is one group of entities that have reared their ugly heads to destroy all of that tranquility: germs. I do usually get really sick in October/Novemeber of most school years. Whether its the flu or some kind of virus, I tend to get really sick during the first semester of the year. Unfortunately, this year it struck in September and it was the unwelcome wallop of Covid. 

Covid has ruined my flow in many ways. When it first struck, it was against my mother who was too weak with dementia to fight it off. She died soon after contracting it. Then my sister and I both got it (we were living together at the time) in December of the same year. I was out of work for 3 weeks and have never been so ill in my life. Just as I was beginning to recover from the worst of it, my dog Jasper somehow contracted it and died right in front of me, a few hours before his appointment with the vet. I'm not a big fan of the illness and hoped I had seen the last of it.

But a few weeks ago I was suddenly reintroduced to this old enemy in the middle of my classroom. I was sweating and feeling so unsteady on my feet that I contacted my school secretary and begged to have a sub called in to take over my class. I was pretty sure it was the flu and the profuse sweating, chills, and nausea over the next 2 days convinced me I was right. On Saturday life threw another grenade my way. One of the most influential men in my life, my Uncle Mario, passed away suddenly. Now on top of my illness I had to prepare to go mourn him with my family. I went back to school on Monday, a broken woman.  I booked a half day so I could go and check in with my doctor. I knew the trip to Rochester would take a lot out of me and I wanted to be sure I was on the mend or at least get any prescription I may need. Although my doctor was busy, another doctor was able to see me and gave me the improbable news that I had Covid. I was so shocked that I immediately replied, "You're kidding?!" knowing full well that doctors don't kid about that subject. It didn't feel like Covid and even though I still felt a little unsteady on my feet, I didn't think that diagnosis would come through. On top of that, I was told I needed to quarantine for the next 5 days which meant no trip to Rochester. Here again was Covid, totally rocking my world. 

During the week off from school and on the deadly Paxlovid medication (absolutely the strongest and foulest medicine I have ever taken), all my self-doubts came out to play. Living in London seemed like a pipe dream that was as unlikely as me walking on the moon. Studying in Ireland seemed far-fetched as well. All I could focus on was getting sick while abroad and dying alone in some overpriced flat. I also thought of my dear uncle, who had lived a successful yet sad life. He lost my beautiful Aunt Debbie when she was in her early thirties and never really stopped mourning her. Then a few years ago his beloved son, Michael, lost his life. My thoughts flashed to his only living son, Anthony, who like Mario was the strong silent type. How was he going to go on now that his entire immediate family was gone? Of course, it comforted me to know all of our cousins in Rochester would look after him and make sure he felt the love we all have for him. But it all triggered a series of bad dreams and depressive thoughts that are not best had when one is sick. I experienced panic attacks and even less motivation to drink liquids and focus on the positive, my usual go-to when ill. My anxiety had a feast while this sickness contributed to me dropping 12 pounds in a week. 

But I'm at the tail end of healing from Covid. I ended the medication on Friday and now on Sunday I feel like I can start to get into my normal school routine. I just want to focus on my class and getting though the week with as much normalcy as possible. However, I don't seem to have the energy to dream about what next year will look like. I think that's okay for now.  

Oh, get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance
Learn to dance, get dressed
Get blessed, try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
20 years of schoolin' and they put you on the day shift
Look out kid, they keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole, light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals, try to avoid the scandals
Don't want to be a bum, you better chew gum
The pump don't work 'cause the vandals took the handles

Hopefully, the next time I write my health and attitude will be much stronger and full of the hope that moving abroad first held for me.