If was the first time in my life I ever reached for a phone to call an ambulance. Friday, I had just about every single symptom of  Covid-19. Today, I have almost none. My Covid tests were negative.

Maria had just left for her walk-about in the woods Friday, and I just sat in a living room chair and collapsed.

I felt like I’d been struck in the head with a hammer.

I slept for five or six hours, and it was as if I had been dropped into the middle of one of those old think London Fogs that Jack The Ripper used to favor.

I had to get to a bathroom, but when I tried to stand up, I couldn’t. I tried 10 or 15 times and could raise myself a couple of feet, but my arms and legs were too weak.

The bathroom thing became urgent, then dreadful.

I decided that if I couldn’t stand up, I would have no choice but to call 911; there was nobody close enough to call, or I thought it would be safe to call.

But you know what stopped me from reaching 911?

I didn’t want them to see me like this.

I was just too embarrassed.

I was also terrified. I had lost almost complete control of my body. I was completely detached from it. Is this what dying felt like?

I have two chronic diseases but had never been nearly that sick or felt so helpless.

I know it sounds strange, but it’s the truth.  Was it worth my life to not be ashamed? Not today, but it was then.

I did manage to clean up before Maria got home.

I called my primary care nurse, and she said everyone had it; she said if I had trouble breathing – that was one symptom I only had for a second or two – or I had a fever that worsened,  or couldn’t stand up again, I should get to an urgent care facility or call 911.

We both agreed it wasn’t time for that.

I took some deep breaths. I couldn’t believe I couldn’t stand up. After two or three more tries, I levered myself against a table, which fell over once, but I could stand when I got it upright.

I got to the bathroom, got some water, got into different clothes, and returned to bed.

Fate and Bud were out in the kennel, but Zinnia wouldn’t go out. She was glued to my side and stared at my face and eyes.

She is there still. She leaves me to eat and go outside and eliminate. She’s easing up, which is more meaningful to me that a thermometer.

This is all I remember of Friday until Maria came home like a Cavalry captain, and I must say, I was happy to see her.

She had called me as she left the nature walk, excited, but when she heard my voice, she knew I was sick.  I can’t lie to Maria. She was two hours away.

I’m sorry her wonderful day in the woods had to be overshadowed by this.

But we got busy healing and recovering. Lots of water, rest, showers, and some medicine.

We had two of the roughest, sleepiness nights of our married life, and I am so sorry she had to endure it. Isn’t that what a good marriage is about? I would have done the same for her.

She was two hours away. They were long minutes. I assured her I was fine and would be waiting for her. I didn’t need to tell her everything. I really hate drama, I grew up with too much of it.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this woman – nothing I can think of – Maria she is loving and selfless in a way I had never experienced before and did not know existed.

I had wicked fever dreams and nightmares for two nights.

It’s two days later, and my world is righting itself. I’ve taken home Covid -19 tests, and all are negative. This morning, my temperature was normal for the first time, and it has stayed that way all day.

Each day, Maria and I sat outside. It was sunny, windy, and beautiful, and it was without question healing. We spent hours together out there and reminded ourselves that one of us needn’t be sick to sit out on our beautiful farm together.

I can eat some food – soup or rice or bread – and I was eager to write about the experience – the blog is about my life, good or bad, my living memoir –  and I have no secrets, or at least no big ones.

I plan to sleep in our regular bed tonight, so Maria and I can get some sleep.

I am still weak and sometimes light-headed, but I feel I am getting stronger by the hour. I’ve had tick bites before and Lyme disease, but this isn’t that, and there are no signs of bites on my body.

I caught some kind of virus, Covid or not. As an older person with heart disease and diabetes, I know the risks and take them seriously.

This afternoon I watched a video of Queen Elizabeth’s Jubilee Celebration, and I was moved by it. I wept each time I heard those thousands of people singing “God Save The Queen.”

I’m not sure why. I’ve certainly felt more emotional than usual this weekend.

It touched me and gave me hope that the idea of Elizabeth could unite a diverse country so ultimately and joyously.

If they can do it, we can do it. We have no such unifying presence now in America; we are split into angry, frozen chunks.  Perhaps there is hope for us.

I am beginning to come to life, sobered by such a jarring and disturbing experience. I never felt my life was at stake; I was confident I would recover. I often thought of the people with no such hope, and I felt lucky.

Tonight, I’m learning that people who are both vaccinated and boosted can sometimes fight off the new version of the virus, and they will test negative. I may never know what caused this.

I resolved again not to waste my precious life in argument, hatred, and domination. I don’t care what they do. I won’t do it: more good tomorrow or the next day.

I have a box full of sneakers, bubble gum, slippers, and sneakers to get to the Mansion, and I hope to get to the Bishop Maginn High School prom this Friday. I’m not sure about that one, I’ll see what the doctor says in the morning.