FLS: Finicky Little Shit (1 year later C19)
Copyright 2021 by
Lori-Ann Willey
cebook.com/notes/10224164434679714/
This past year and a half have been a blur to the entire
world, but none more so than by those who suffered the loss of loved ones to
Covid-19, or to those who were so extremely sick for weeks and months on
end. This is not to leave out those who
have “long haul” C19 symptoms. This does
not diminish the struggles of us all throughout the world -a change of life
that happened overnight, and to this day as I sit here in a hospital with Paul
while he receives his monthly infusion.
We sit here for hours on end wearing masks as mandated.
Today marks the day that I published my SNL – Sneaky Little
Shit as a Facebook a year ago. The Note
that gained worldwide attention and for me to become a subject in a Covid-19
study to learn more. Did I have
C19? I think I did and so did the
research team that interviewed me for over 1 ½ hours, who took my “journal” and
used it, for all those who read it and thanked me for writing it. It’s been an exceptionally long haul.
Only after my body started to feel better was when it “hit”
me like a ton of bricks just how sick I was and for so long. Honestly, I felt like I had mild PTSD due
to it all. I know that may sound crazy,
but it was truly how I felt. Though I
was very weak, pacing myself, slowly (ever-so) I gained strength over
time. My endurance also grew. My “PTSD” only lasted for about three weeks. Thankfully.
Though I struggled from Jan-April 2020 and though every
questionnaire I took told me to go straight to the Emergency Room without delay
for immediate attention, I didn’t. I did not once think my life was near its end despite the exhausting struggle for each
breath or the sheer exhaustion to walk across a small room, never mind simply
sitting in a chair and trying to stay upright either. However, once my body decided it was time to
heal, I knew I was not going to have yet another setback. My body knew it, too. I thank Mr. Sun for that. You know that bright-bright orb in the sky?
Come about the end of March 2021, it was like my body went
into an emotional memory recall to when it struggled the most. I tried to write a blog and I couldn’t. As I prepared to write a bit in a book that
I’m working on our lifestyle, I skimmed through my garden 2020 folder and
I sat weeping, “How in the hell did I do all that while so weak?” I asked that of myself, but I already knew
the answer. “I had to.” It was my way of fighting back. That sun was important to my body. It reacted to it. It craved it, and I gave it as much as I
could.
Our return to camp was a slow one. It took us forever to pack and unpack. Just to walk from the camp to my garden beds
was slow. I had to keep stopping to rest.
It took me forever to do anything, yet each day I felt stronger. Just as my mind knew, my body knew my
setbacks were over with for good, but that didn’t stop my body from screaming
at me. Every time I tried to push
through, the fatigue found me wondering why and how I was still standing or even
able to sit before passing out. Many
times, my eyes went black. Sometimes, I
fell and found myself on the ground.
Other times, I was able to clumsily plop before I landed on the ground
otherwise. Each time, my stomach felt
lodged in my throat and I found myself unable to call out. There were times when I just laid on the
ground and hoped I’d stay “with it” enough not to pass out. All resulted because
I continued working only a few seconds past the point when my body told me to
stop and rest. Call me a bit stubborn,
and you are right 100%. At the same
time, I felt the need to push the limits, too.
A YEAR LATER
A few days ago, as I walked around the camp yard, I saw all
that I was able to do last summer while trying to gain my strength and stamina.
The year before, I measured my weeks in a percentage rating of full recovery until I
felt 100%. Each time I felt I reached
100%, the following week told me I hadn’t because I claimed that week 100%,
too. Finally, I concluded that I had
been sicker than I thought all along and each % seemed like 100% achieved.
The other day, as I walked along two large Hügelkultur beds
that I made last summer, I became emotional yet again. I stopped and found it difficult to believe I
made them while still so weak. Making
them is a daunting task for any ambitious person, but while still
recovering? I had gone through the woods
and dragged trees to that location before puzzling them together to make the
garden bed. Two of the logs, I had to use the
truck and tow strap and dragged those in place, just because I did not have the
strength to move them otherwise.
Then, I walked along the longest Hügelkultur bed and though
those logs were smaller in diameter, I had lugged and dragged a few hundred
downed trees to make that bed, too. That
was a lot of work, but those trees were smaller so though many more trees, the
task was easier by far…despite dragging them through the woods to get them
there.
Each log, no matter the size, was important to me. It was important to my heart, mind, and soul.
Each tree meant building not only a garden bed but building up every part of me
as well. I was recovering and the more
work I did, the more logs I dragged, carried, cut up meant building me back up
to where I was the year before. It was
important…each log was important. It was
me fighting back with more determination than I had ever known in my life. It was a long, hard struggle in many ways,
both physically and emotionally that even now, writing this, I’ve had to wipe
tears away twice now.
By summer’s end, I felt as if my strength and stamina had
returned fully. The only glitch I still
had was a few minutes of a trembling heart after I rested from doing physical
work. That lasted right up until November. November is when my foggy brain left me,
too. I was finally able to think beyond
my nose, problem-solve, and write …. I could finally write again!
A switch turned on at the same time the trembling heart went
away. It wasn’t long after that, that my
creativity returned, as did my think-ability.
I spent the next few months reworking my books into a different program
so they could be distributed worldwide.
My brain had turned on and I was anxious to make up for lost time.
During this entire process, I’ve known personally of a few
deaths due to C19 to include the spouses of a few friends, parents of friends, and of my own aunt and uncle who succumbed to the awful virus. It has been a hell of a year and a half.
Honest and truly, I feel that I am a survivor of C19, though
I was not tested, nor was I confirmed that I had it via antibody tests, I
strongly-strongly feel that I did. I’d
say that I’d bet my life on it, but I won’t, because one’s life is not
bet-on-able. Though I’m not a
superstitious person, I simply appreciate where I am today and how far I’ve come,
and I am so very thankful.
Recently Paul and I received our second Moderna shots. I know some who opt against them, but I had
to. If I can prevent from getting that
sick again, I’ll be first in line to get more if needed …. annually, even. This from someone who rarely got her flu
shots. I think the only time I did was
when I worked within the school system and one other time via the VA for Paul’s
health. For C19, “Ima-Believer” in that
one. Yup.
https://www.facebook.com/WilleysDamCamp
