The hunter-gatherer is away for a week doing what he does: hunting, or more precisely fishing, and gathering. Following on from our time north of Auckland I have been hankering for some beach swimming. Yes, there is beach in Wellington but sadly the great unwashed emptied their toilets into it for three weeks and that makes it less appealing. Anyway, the Kapiti coast is quiet.
Monday I drive to a lovely AirBnB up at Paraparaumu Beach for a few days: set back from the beach and with a private lane through to the sand, there’s a very nice view, lots of sun, and miles of beach to walk along and ocean for swimming. Kapiti Island looms large. Terns and gannets swoop and dive.
Tuesday No symptoms: I walk two kilometres up the beach to a cafe for the best mushrooms on toast I’ve ever had, and a great coffee. The cafe is very popular with locals and the usual suspects are all in attendance: lycra clad cyclists; mums and bubs; tradies fuelling up on bacon and egg butties; older couples out for a walk. Sorry everyone, but that’s how Covid rolls these days. Scanning in, which I did, is unlikely to help with notifications, and yes, I have let the cafe know.
Walking back along the beach I have a kilometre or so to go, when I know I need to go. An abdominal gurgle and spasm has me scanning the dunes for urgent relief – not happening. Diarrhoea is one of the less common symptoms of Covid and I’m not sure if this is my early warning notice, but suffice to say it is an uncomfortable butt clenching waddle back home. It is only when I have the key in the door my body defies my will. It is lucky there’s a washing machine available.
By afternoon I feel fine and happily go swimming in the sea, which is warm and quite calm.
Wednesday Bodily functions return to normal but I feel a bit feverish – hot and cold sweats, runny nose, but no sore throat or cough. I exercise deep denial as I have another two days here and it is beautiful and I don’t want to leave and most of all I don’t want Covid.
Responsibility trumps denial so I mask up and drive to get RATs. There’s a queue, of course. Two in fact. For the first one, which you only find you need to be in once you reach the head of the second one, you register and get an order number. Then you re-join the queue you were in in the first place (grrr), show your order number and pick up the tests.
I then drive home, read the instructions, screw my courage to the sticking point, perform a lobotomy though the nasal passage and there you have it. The positive line appears within one minute so there’s no denying it, but I wait the full 15 before melting down.
Time to call the AirBnB host and the cafe – which is the only place I’ve been since Sunday – then sadly pack up and drive home.
When I call our building manager to tell him I’m Covid positive, he answers croakily from his bed – his whole family is down. An email from our property manager lets me know our tenant is down. Notifying friends and family, return emails and texts list people they know who are also suffering or recovering, along with many offers of help with shopping and so on. I am not alone.
Or I am. The hunter-gatherer is still away and there’s no point him returning. If he gets infected we would have another seven days isolation. We are off to a family gathering in Taranaki next weekend and don’t want to miss it, or infect anyone else. We’ve also promised to bring, pāua, fish and crayfish. Showing extreme concern for my well being, one of my brothers, that’s you Steven, asks if we can send the seafood.
Like good boy and girl scouts, we have a stock of paracetamol, ibuprofen, nasal spray, throat lozenges, a pulse-oximeter, tissues, oh – and toilet paper, though isn’t quite as urgent now.
Thursday Wake up feeling tired after a slightly feverish night – still hot and cold sweats, runny nose, bit of body ache.
A kind neighbour drops off a coffee outside the door. Did I mention our coffee machine is at the doctor’s? Worst week ever for that to happen. However, very kind friends drop off a spare machine and coffee. I assemble it and there is only one piece that doesn’t fit – it’s making coffee anyway. So far there is no impact on my taste or sense of smell.
My doctor phones. Clearly some Health system somewhere is working: she has a notification identifying me as positive. I assume the aforementioned order number connects to my vax certificate which connects to my NHI which connects to my doctor. She tells me the diarrhoea is more common in children, but won’t discount it as a symptom. We agree I am smart enough to call if I need help so there’s no need for a nurse to ring me every day. We disagree on which day is day one of my seven days. I win and she will never know.
Thank God for Netflix. Thank God for Aloe tissues.
Friday
It occurs to me I have not taken my temperature at all through this time. I haven’t felt as though I have a fever even though my body temp runs hot and clammy at times. I definitely feel better today though still have a tap for a nose. Aches minimal, still no sore throat.
I feel I’m through the worst. By my calculations I’m Day three, so I do another test. Sadly, it looks much like the last one. Oh bugger. Still positive.