I know that literally millions of you (is this right? – ed) have been fearing for my well-being after a recent brush with Covid-19. With good reason, if you ask me, because after catching it, I reckon, on a transatlantic flight four weeks ago today, the remnants are still hanging around, in the form of ongoing tiredness and an ongoing Capstan full strength cough (ask your grandparents, kids, assuming they didn’t die of the effects of Capstan full strength, that is) which still causes me to have uncontrolled coughing fits, often at embarrassing moments. Put simply, I do not recommend catching this bloody virus because, despite what the inexperts on GB News are telling their simpleton listeners, it is not pleasant and this is going to be a long winter of illness and, sadly, death for a lot of people.
At no point did I consider a referral to local health services, both abroad or here, although I did make an on-line reference to the health centre, asking if they could recommend a particular treatment, such as a specific tincture. “Don’t waste my fucking time,” came the reply, albeit not with those exact words. “Ask the pharmacy.” To be honest, I’d trust my barber’s advice more than our local pharmacy so I went to Sainsbury’s and bought various potions at huge cost which, obviously, haven’t made a blind bit of difference.
The rules as to what to do when you catch Covid are rather like they are for a common cold. Stay at home if you can, but there’s nothing to stop you spreading the viral load if you can’t, or if you are like me, don’t want to. But then, I was traipsing around Canada for the best part of ten days, carting this sodding virus around, unknowingly until I tested and – full disclosure, here – knowingly thereafter. So you can imagine, I had a brief “What should I do?” moment, so brief that I soon concluded, with the agreement of my Canadian family, that I would keep calm and carry on, wearing a mask whenever appropriate.
God alone knows (he doesn’t: he’s not there) how many other people I infected or, perish the thought, even killed, but then you could say exactly the same thing about every other virus I have ever suffered from. How many colds and associated viruses have I passed on unknowingly to people with, say, severe COPD or chronic asthma, who then ended up at the crematorium? It would be heartless indeed to say, “Well, I don’t care” because obviously I do but the thing is if I stayed in every time I sneezed or coughed, I’d be more of a hermit than I became during Covid.
I am no medical expert but my latest brush with this sodding virus has reminded me that it would be better not to get it at all, or if you are going to, have a safe vaccine to lessen the effects. My cough is still so bad I fear a lung will be projected across the room every time I have a coughing fit or I will simply pass out. Hopefully, neither of these things will happen, but better be safe than sorry, eh?
