The days follow each other and do definitely not look alike.
Saturday morning, I wake up around 9:00 a.m., feeling nauseous and with my stomach rumbling. Every hair on my body, and I have a lot of them, hurts, I have a fever. I stay in bed, but I'm cold. Every time I yawn, my body shakes, like I'm shivering... but much more violently.
I lie there because I feel exhausted, drained of energy, completely flat. Three quarters of an hour later, I finally get up to take a pee. I struggle to get out of bed, I ache all over, my balance is precarious, make way for the big “chanceler,” make way! I go back to bed and... around 11:00 a.m., I get up as fast as I can, rush to the toilet, and throw up everything I ate the day before. It's painful but fortunately quick. One, two, three, done!
This time I put on some warm clothes and sit down on the sofa to wait for my daily injection. After half an hour, I decide to take a Promerolan, feeling that I can keep it down. I move like an old man, wrapped in a cocoon of exhaustion, threatened at any moment by another gastric eruption. Back to my seat, exhausted, I've walked six meters, maybe seven... Marie shows up and later will tell me that I had a greenish complexion and that it freaked her out.
Adeline, the local nurse, comes by, checks my temperature without me moving from the couch, 39°C. She tells me to call my doctor at Cochin Hospital. She's pretty worried, puts her hand on my shoulder and forehead to encourage me, in an almost motherly gesture.
I call them, but they must all be eating, and those who aren't eating are usually very busy. They run from room to room because the patients don't take a break at midday. I finally reach them around 2:00 p.m.
“Go to the emergencies at Cochin, they will do a blood test... then we will know more about what's happening.”
Emergencies once again
Luckily, Hassan can pick me up. He's a real gem. I doze off for half the ride. I'm not very good company, I'm completely out of it, as they say. We get to the emergency room around 4:30 p.m. I walk in and four hours later, I'm still waiting. Good thing I brought my bag with me. I take my meds in the waiting room with BFM, 49.3, and images of the smoke-filled Place de la Concorde playing in the background. Chillin'.
My butt hurts a little; four and a half hours on a metal chair isn't great. All that with just a tangerine in my stomach. But strangely, I'm not hungry at all... or maybe just a little... but thinking about what I'd like to eat makes me lose my appetite.
Well, 'thinking' is a big word in my condition. I drift off, wake up, and drift off again. Eventually, they call me to the examination room, where I wait for a good quarter of an hour without seeing anyone. Then two doctors walk in, discussing the best way to detect a thrombosis by pressing on the vein. I like these conversations I'm not invited to. But they're really knowledgeable, and I understand that they're taking care of everyone I've seen waiting, with only three doctors. Respect! A nurse comes to do an ECG (Electrocardiogram), takes a few more vials of blood (Dracula, get out of this body), and hands me a container for a urine sample. Once again, I appreciate the reassuring presence of this professional caregiver. A lot of kindness can be conveyed by a hip against your arm that supports you, warms you, and makes you feel good.
But I'm far from done being surprised, since after twelve hours of waiting and tests, I find out that I've caught... Covid! That's all I needed to make the party perfect! The doctor tries to reassure me, saying it's a mild case and that the hardest part is over. I'm lucky, right?
I ended up getting home in an ambulance at breakneck speed (35 minutes door to door from Cochin to Étampes). I've never made the trip so quickly!
The next day, 60% of my fatigue disappears, by Sunday evening I am back to normal.
