It’s just like a heavy cold, they said.

If this has a single line on it at C, it is a RAT. 

If it has a second line at T (like in the picture), it’s a DUCK – at least,  I think that’s what my wife called it when she saw hers.

It got us.

My wife and I have both been COVID-jabbed to the full extent of the law – she three times, and me (because of an underlining immunity issue) four.

We’ve managed to dodge Covid since March 2020, but statistical probability caught up with us a week ago.

We have been increasingly encircled, like a vulture circling lunch.  Our daughter-in-law; a niece’s boyfriend, the niece herself and our sister-in-law; our son and his partner.  Friends and acquaintances locally and distantly.  There has been an increasing sense of inevitability – which finally landed a week ago.

We went to a café on Thursday for a late evening hot chocolate, and we think that was the starting point.  The place was pretty full and lively and, being a café, only the staff were masked up.

Statistical Opportunities

According to what appears to be the international Covid-recording database at Maryland’s John Hopkins University, since the first Covid case recorded in New Zealand there have been over 1,300,000 confirmed cases here.  On a population base of approximately 5.1 million, that is 20% of our population who have tested positive.

And that only counts the reported results – it would seem probable that not everyone has been diligently putting his or her positive hand up to be counted!

At five to one, there is a degree of inevitability that you will join the statistics at some point. 

If you haven’t already.

What’s it like?

Friends and relatives who have experienced Covid have said it’s just like a heavy cold.  Sneezing and coughing (a lot of coughing),  feeling achy and lacking in energy, a bit of “brain fog” – that sort of stuff.

They jest. 

It is like that, but they understated just how bad it feels. 

My wife spent the first day she tested positive sleeping in bed.  Days two and three, she sat in an armchair and read books, with a sore throat so bad it made her ears hurt.

There are spells where you think you can get something done, but those spells have the life-expectancy of a Warehouse firework – short, smoky and rather disappointing.

For a person who usually shuns “traditional” medicine – preferring, with considerable reason, to use combinations of essential oils and diet to maintain health levels for us both – she has ingested a small van-load of panadol and antihistamines in the last few days! 

The Symptoms

I could write a list of the things you’ll get with your Covid.  But it would be long, boring, and undoubtedly incomplete!

The short version is to remember back to the worst flu you’ve had, add a strong head cold and a wicked hangover.  And multiply by 2.

Your thought processes than are like a suburban train timetable – running about 20 minutes behind schedule.  Or replaced by buses.  What has been euphemistically called “Brain Fog” causes Wordle to become an inquisition rather than an entertainment. 

You may not remember how to set a fire and it is possible, halfway through the process, to forget how to make a cup of tea.

Exhaustion and lethargy are on an epic scale.  There are spells where you think you can get something done, but those spells have the life-expectancy of a Warehouse firework – short, smoky and rather disappointing.

The Up Sides

Enough negativity!  There have some good bits that cannot be overlooked.

We have been humbled by the attention and offers from friends and relatives, checking on our collective well-being.  They have checked that we have everything we needed (tissues were an issue!), and they’ve fetched and carried for us if we asked.  

We are still standing, pretty much unaided.

And we haven’t used any petrol for a week!

Odd bits

We always have a latte per day, as early as achievable.  We didn’t have one for a week – and didn’t miss it.  We may now have to play catch-up.

The light at the end of the tunnel may yet be revealed to not be an on-coming train.

There has also be a distinct lack of desire for wine – although I did use up some open bottles of whisky, and my wife re-discovered brandy.  We considered that the improved abv was justified as a sort of hand-sanitiser, taken internally.

The Light at the end of the Tunnel

We’re coming right.  The DUCK line is slowly fading and the light at the end of the tunnel may yet be revealed to not be an on-coming train.

The coughing, the tissue consumption and the drug-taking are abating slowly. 

That aside, even though it’s only been a week and a bit, it has been the most horrible week and a bit that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. 

Add to that, the potential long term side effects can reportedly go on for a long time.  Don’t get Covid – it’s a shite illness.  Take it seriously! 

Take all the protections you can.  If you’re offered a fourth shot, take it!  It may (literally) save your life and even if it doesn’t, it will make the illness a whole lot less unpleasant if the statistics get you too.

Post script

I heard that some people intending to go overseas are actively looking to get Covid before they travel.  Apparently, they regard getting the illness as another level of immunity.


From a Canadian alcohol study; “Even moderate drinking can result in hospitalisation or even death”. 
Doesn’t LIFE result in death? 
Just asking.

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3 Replies to “It’s just like a heavy cold, they said.”

  1. NIce One John, Explaines why you wern’t at the last tasting.
    Hope your both feeling better soon.

    Slange Var

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