Paranoia, The Destroyer

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Four weeks ago today I got a call from the hospital, where I’d gone the day before for an emergency room visit, informing me that my COVID test had come back positive. That was quickly followed by the health department calling me and telling me to isolate for ten days. Yesterday a friend on Facebook asked me about my COVID symptoms, given I’m the first person she’s known who had a positive test result. The short answer: not much. I never had a fever (which is the first thing they check for). I was never short of breath (and I’m an asthmatic!!). No dry hacking cough. The only problem I had was a nasty “stomach flu,” and not to the extent of vomiting or diarrhea....just constant pain and no appetite. That all disappeared by Christmas. But my gut is still grumbling. Why? Well, as that great Kinks song said, “Paranoia, the destroyer.” I had to get a COVID test as SOP (standard operating procedure) before a dental appointment on January 8. It still showed positive. I have also tested positive for the antibodies. And yet, I’m still ending up in the ER because “heartburn” is very appropriately named. As I told my friend, I’m a hypochondriac to begin with. I thank my dear mother of blessed memory for that: I was a sickly child (the aforementioned asthma), so every time I belched my mom was in my room, going, “are you okay???” (I got her back late in her life: every time she complained of the slightest ache I’d ask her if she needed to go to the doctor. ) I feel confident if my doctor were to stick a swab in my mouth for a saliva test (sorry, after three nasal tests my nose is off-limits until March 19, when my next COVID test is scheduled) and came back in 15 minutes saying, “It’s negative,” about two-thirds of my stomach problems would immediately clear up. It’s funny what we do ourselves, isn’t it? I told my doctor, based on what “they” were saying, that if I got COVID they wouldn’t have to do a test because I’d be dead. Seriously, I’m in all the “risk” groups: over 60, obese, and pre-existing condition. So I get it, and what happens? I tell friends who ask I’ve had much worse head colds, more coughing in a bronchitis attack, and shorter of breath trying to walk up a flight of stairs. And yet, every little thing I feel in my body causes that paranoia devil on my shoulder to go, “It’s COVID! You’re gonna die!!!” Well, duh. Aren’t well all. You’ve no doubt seen the meme that says that anti-social people have been in training their whole lives for something like COVID. The downside of that is that COVID is also a once-in-a-lifetime event for hypochondriacs. I do have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon to hopefully get some medication to help calm my stomach. My nerves will calm themselves once the COVID test shows negative. Enjoy the Kinks (especially those of you having a headache from the Flatt & Scruggs song earlier today ):