I’m COVID positive

My COVID experience started on September 2, 2021, when I made a comment to my co-worker that I might not come to work tomorrow because my throat felt a little sore. It was very minor- just a scratchy sensation. I had been testing students one-on-one the last two weeks, so I assumed it was the overuse of my voice, or my body adjusting to going back to work, wearing my mask for long hours. The next day, more symptoms developed: congestion, body aches, tiredness, which felt normal because I associated them with my recurring sinus infection. On Sunday I spoke to the Kaiser advice nurse, on Monday I spoke to the doctor who expedited a COVID test. On Tuesday morning I took my test, and that night I received my results. It was positive. By then, when I lost my sense of smell and taste, I already had an inclining that I had COVID. The test confirmed it. Turns out, I probably had COVID sometime at the end of August, then symptoms developed 3-5 days later, and I didn’t test ‘till three days after that. It’s easy to see how the virus spreads so quickly.

You hear how unpredictable COVID is, how it affects people differently, how there is no definite way to predict how your body will respond. I know many people who survived COVID, but I also knew a few people who didn’t. I wondered where I would fall on the spectrum. I wondered if my asthma, my weight, my thyroid would affect my experience. When I developed a form of pink eye on the 5th day, I cautioned if my symptoms would unexpectedly turn severe like other cases I read about.

I don’t know how I contracted COVID. There’s a myriad of sources- my husband went to the dentist, I work at two schools where the students are not old enough to get the vaccine, my brother-in law visited one day. I wear a mask, I’m vaccinated and I’m as safe as I can be in public settings. But with COVID, especially with Delta we know it spreads faster and it’s more infectious than the outset of the pandemic. I believe my breakthrough COVID case was bound to happen; it was just a matter of time. It is also worrisome that at my schools, it seems as if there is a positive COVID case everyday; students are in the hallways sitting next to a garbage can, vomiting. The outdoor isolation tent seems to have students daily, waiting for a parent to pick him/her up. When I see students playing, hear them laughing, or witness them smiling with their eyes, it’s easy to forget that we’re in a pandemic, and it seems like kids at school is the right decision, but when COVID cases rise and as I see adults and students get sick and the after effects of COVID unknown, I’ve decided that school is probably not the safest place for people to be, especially those unvaccinated. I’m lucky that when I return to my job, my interaction with people will be limited, and I’m taking it one day at a time.


The support from friends and family, the daily calls, check ins or even the delivery of organic Gatorade from a dear friend were sources of comfort for me. I was also surprised with the care I received from Kaiser. They sent me a care package complete with high grade cleaning solution, sanitizer, alcohol wipes, body wash, shampoo, condition, face masks, gloves, eating utensils, plates, cups, even a thermometer. Although I had most of the items at home, it was reassuring to know that in all aspects of my life, including my health care, everything was easy so I could just focus on my health and healing. Even when I was contacted by Contra Costa County they offered to do the trace contact on my behalf and asked if I needed help financially and with food preparation. I wondered about all the people who were affected at the onset of the pandemic, when a lot was unknown, when the system and after care weren’t as robust, how lonely and frustrating and expensive it might have been, especially the immediate hours after testing positive. It’s an odd time. Many thoughts run through your head and the imagination runs wild. The care I received from my circle, including the County and Kaiser made things feel less helpless, less overwhelmed, less like I was a statistic. This was the care I received for my case; I only hope others receive the same care, especially those with more severe cases.

There’s a mental condition called Survivor’s Guilt , where a person who survived a life threatening situation, while others did not feels guilty for surviving. Many people have experienced this in traumas we’re familiar with such as 9/11, Pulse nightclub, a car accident, Cancer, and most recently COVID. While my COVID case was relatively mild compared to others, I do wonder about those who weren’t so lucky, particularly family members who died because of COVID. Some didn’t live long enough for the vaccine to become available to them, so by chance and by time, I was fortunate to have a chance simply because of a timeline. It could also be because I haven’t eaten meat in over a year, or that I received both vaccines of the Moderna, it could also be because my family prayed for me and my mother in law added our names to a congregation of nuns who prayed for us. Who knows why I was lucky and relatively unscathed. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge those who had a different experience, those who needed a pacemaker after COVID, those whose sense of taste never returned after COVID, those who will have life long lung issues after COVID.

And it wasn’t just me who tested positive. My husband, my brother-in-law and two other people , including a friend’s children, tested positive. It was clear that our 6 degrees of separation had been compromised. Could I have been the COVID culprit? Probably. Most likely. The conditions at my school make it the obvious answer. And I carry a lot of guilt for that possibility. It is wild when I think about it. How a simple action turned into something possibly life threatening. We found humor in the situation though. We jokingly thought about having a quarantine routine or eating an entire onion or durian. And I affectionately referred to us as the COVID Crew. My mother in law, in jest, said something to the effect of: “I can’t believe all my children have COVID all at the same time”. But it all turned serious when my niece all of a sudden had a fever of 103 and then my sister developed flu-like symptoms, the possibility of spreading the virus to them became even more severe. My niece is only three. She’s lived most in her life in the pandemic, and it didn’t seem fair that she was a bystander of poor actions. They ended up testing negative; which was a huge relief, but the guilt ensued. I was sorry and sad. I’m grateful that my family has been kind, understanding and has found humor in a grave situation. I love them very much.

As of today, day 10 of my quarantine, the only symptoms I feel are fatigue, loss of smell and taste and a slight congestion. My days are strange. I haven’t been outside since September 2, and I have urges to take long naps throughout the day. I miss my hikes; I miss my family; I miss my tastebuds. I don’t find pleasure in the things I’ve taken for granted like eating, drinking, or smelling my favorite perfume, a home cooked meal or the wonderful outdoors. I think about the possible long term effects I might endure like COVID brain fog or a persistent disorienting metallic taste in my mouth. I think about the last flavorful thing I ate: a nori roll wrap with sunflower seed pate, alfalfa sprouts, cucumber, tomatoes, onions, avocado. I think about the email I got from work urging me to take advantage of mental health services they are offering for free.

I go back to work tomorrow (Tuesday, September 14), and it will be 13 days since I set foot on campus. I’m looking forward to putting this behind me, but I do worry that COVID might make its way back, like others I read about who had COVID twice, like the CDC study in Kentucky. The most I can do is take the same precautions I took before: sanitize, wear a mask, physical distance, wash my hands, get tested regularly. But even with all of that in place, the chances are still there, albeit significantly less, but still there. What I’ve learned from this situation is that being infected with COVID means different things for everyone. Cases vary in degrees and people respond differently- socially, emotionally, mentally, physically. I think about the positives: the support of family and friends. The surprising outreach from work, Contra Costa County and Kaiser Permanente. It seems once you test positive,all hands and feet are on deck and on the ground and an army of people are there to help with the process. I’m thankful for the vaccine; I am assuming it prevented my symptoms from escalating and me being admitted to the hospital. I’m grateful to all of you who have also chosen to get vaccinated as well; it may have saved your life and others. If you are still considering not getting the vaccine, which is now approved by the FDA, I hope my experience encourages you to reconsider or at the very least to have a conversation with those around you, especially those who you love. Being positive affects your entire community. Even if you live alone, if you step foot outside your door, you’re impacting life all around you and there’s a strong possibility that your actions might impact the health of another person. I honor each person’s individual choice and what is best for you and your family. But after experiencing this and contending with all the possible outcomes that could have been, it would be irresponsible of me to not share this story, my story. A possible life may depend on it. And that’s a chance I’m not willing to take. Stay safe and thank you for reading.

Care package from Kaiser
Pink eye photo
One of the fun the things I looked forward to was the phonecalls with my niece and using the filters
The last flavorful meal I had on Friday September 3

Girls Trip to Las Vegas

Well, we did it. A group of 40 year old gals, who have been friends for over two decades, made a voyage to Sin City (Las Vegas) for four days during the pandemic.We know this was a risky trip; the Delta variant has spread across the country and has become rampant in metropolitan places like Las Vegas. In fact, a week before the trip, we talked reconsidered going– analyzing the pros and cons of going on vacation during this time. In the end, we decided to move forward with our original plans, partly due to a financial investment we probably would never see again but also because it had been well over 1.5 years since we has seen each other, or even travelled together, and there was something about making a maiden voyage to the dessert that seemed alluring to our mental health. Days later we all packed our bags, boarded our separate flights and finally met at the time share. One after the other, with each arrival, we hugged, taking inventory of each other’s body, hair, face, realizing how much time had passed among us.

The trip was not your average one. We didn’t go to any clubs or pool parties. We didn’t attend any after hours or buffets. We tried to steer away from the usual party scene and stuck to our loose itinerary of lazy mornings, quick trips to get coffee, excursions in the water, and girl talk in the living room accompanied with Tito’s Vodka, fresh fruit and vegan oatmeal raisin cookies. With the exception of the kayaking trip, everything we did could have been easily been done at the comfort of our homes. We really didn’t need to be in Vegas to do any of the simple activities we participated it. But it was the idea of being together that you couldn’t put a price on.

I don’t know when we’ll be together again. Who knows if it’ll be next week, next month, next year? Maybe we’ll meet again in Las Vegas or maybe we’ll head to the ocean. What ever the destination, I’ll be thankful for the company. Even if it’s sitting in the living room of a fancy hotel and doing absolutely nothing but talking.

Stuck in my car

The other day I spent roughly three hours waiting in my car in a parking lot. I spent most of the time on my phone- watching Netflix, scrolling on the internet, checking my email and then reading my book. On occasion, I took stretch breaks by walking around the lot. Sure, I could have driven around, but I was accompanying a friend to his doctor’s appointment and we didn’t know how long it would be, so I didn’t want to leave in case he needed me. Because of COVID, i couldn’t actually go in the hospital, so I waited in my car. I volunteered to accompany him because I just wanted to be there- to show my support and let him know that he wasn’t alone. Yes, he has the support of his family, parents and friends, but sometimes it’s better off to experience things with one other person. I should know. When I had a miscarriage and had a D and C performed, I only wanted one other person with me.

My friend and I have known each other since middle school, but we became close friends way after high school and college- about 15 years ago, when we were both about 26 years old. Since then we’ve celebrated a lot – birthdays, holidays, love , and we’ve also gone through a lot of tumultuous times as well- breakups, job loss and health scares. When I was first diagnosed with hyperthyroid and was having heart palpitations, it was him who I called to calm me down and give me sage advice. He was also the person who flew 13 hours to the Philippines to be in my wedding. He is also the same person who I confide in when I need to hear the harsh truth, knowing he won’t pass judgment regardless of what I say or not say.

There are many things friends will do for one another. Some will fly across the world for you. Some will tell you the blatant truth regardless if you’re ready to hear it. Some will even wait in the car for you, no matter how long it takes.

Resilience on the slide

The parks just opened in our city, and despite it being still sunny at 6:30 PM, the area of the park we were at was empty with the exception of 2-3 kids at different times. The slide wasn’t very steep– about 6 feet and and everyone, including my husband, sister and her boyfriend took turns going down the slide with my niece, Aiza. But I didn’t. The slide has always been my least favorite past time in the park; I prefer the swings, but at the part we were at, it didn’t have adult swings available. Besides (TMI), I’m on my dot, so the idea of sliding down a flimsy piece of plastic did not seem comforting or fun. Instead I lived vicariously through my niece.

What was interesting is that she went down the slide about 20 times in the same way- butt down and feet first. When another girl about 2-3 years older than her came close, they immediately began playing together. The girl had on a mask and she was very friendly, even when my niece wasn’t talking very much. The new friend showed Aiza how to play the pretend steering wheel; she showed her how to stick her head out the window in the pretend store and then she showed her various ways to play on the slide. First she went down the slide on her stomach, feet first then Aiza followed. Then the girl went down the slide, stomach down, head first with her arms stretched out. What surprised me was that Aiza wasn’t even scared and didn’t ask how to do this. She just watched and followed along. Then a few minutes later, the new friend made a daring move and climbed up the the slide, all by herself. Because she’s a little older, she was able to do it without struggling. We – me, my sister – watched but we didn’t expect Aiza to follow. Yet, Aiza did. But when she reached the middle of the slide, there was no way for her to get to the top. If she bent down, she wouldn’t be able to hold the sides of the slide and there was possibly of her falling backwards. My sister and I were at a safe distance and could have easily come to her aid, but something unexpected happened. Without talking, the two friends she just made instinctively got on their stomachs and stretched their arms out to give Aiza a hand. They cheered her on and said “reach for my hand” and Aiza, not able to speak in complete sentences yet, understood exactly what to do. She grabbed their hand and the two strangers pulled her up! For a group of girls who met each other for the first time and had limited talking and interacting, this was the first real reminder for me that despite what’s happening during this pandemic, I’m reminded how resilient and strong young girls are when they are together.

Being productive with plants and aprons

I have been operating  at 70% for the last 3 ½ months. My processing time and ability to finish tasks have been slower than normal. I abandoned a 1,000- piece puzzle when it was 80% complete. I have been sewing the same apron for the past few months. I started reading books only to abandon them 30 pages in. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been this uncommitted. 

But in a course of two days, I did the following: 

  • Wrote a 5 page APA style research paper for my online class
  • Listened to the my school board’s five hour presentation and motion for distance/ hybrid learning and police at school
  • Ran 2.5 miles
  • Wrote and posted two blog entries
  • Sewed two straps on my apron 
  • Sat on my tiny porch and enjoy my newly potted plants
  • Made a call to the DMV
  • Went grocery shopping to make pizzas with my niece tomorrow
  • Jump roped with my husband
  • Helped select music for my husband’s dj mix live set
  • Wrote an email to my landlord to negotiate our rent
  • Told a former student that I’m proud of her for getting a new job (she’s still eating the chocolate I sent her)
  • Watched a documentary on being vegan 
  • One hour phone call with a colleague 

This is not a list that has any one profound accomplishment. It’s a list that demonstrates that although I am still sewing my, what seems like, never ending apron project, or I haven’t opened my book in two days or replaced puzzles with plants, I can still be proud of the activities my body can do, the conversations I have taken the time to prioritize and remind myself that talking and caring for plants can be just as mentally challenging and rewarding as completing a puzzle.