The Elder Report: COVID comes for Memama and Me...and Papa

[Read prior Elder Reports: One, Two, Three, Four]

Around mid-March, my mom developed what I thought were seasonal allergies. I got her some over-the-counter medication and hoped that would knock out her cough and runny nose. It didn't. The next day she seemed lethargic and had a low-grade fever so I decided to take her to a nearby urgent care to be checked out. At the time, I thought she might have something like a UTI or maybe she was getting pneumonia. But it turned out to be the latest strain of COVID.

That was disconcerting, to say the least. I was exposed. I would have to quarantine myself with her. So, she and I set out on an adventure. The doctor prescribed Paxlovid for her. Her symptoms were fairly mild but a chest X-Ray revealed some small nodules forming in her right lung. That night, she was developing a migraine. I gave her some medication for that which basically knocks her out and helps her sleep. Unfortunately, she woke up needing to use her bathroom. She lost her balance and fell before she could get back in bed.

Helping her up I discovered that she never made it to the toilet. She peed on the bathroom floor and tried to get back in bed but was severely disoriented by the medication and her illness. Her socks and panties were soaked in urine. So I had to undress her, bathe her a bit and then help her back to bed. I cleaned the bathroom floor as best I could. Two days later, she was feeling fine. By the time we finished out her five-day Paxlovid treatment she had no symptoms at all.

For me things were chaotic. I had to get a lot of things, mostly snacks, supplements and clothes from home. Jennifer and Avery (who happened to be visiting at the time) brought me what I needed. I felt fine and spent my time, reading, writing, and thoroughly mopping the bathrooms in my parent's house. I washed towels and bed clothes. I kept myself busy.

I was feeling normal until day five. Mom completed her Paxlovid regimen just as I started the sniffles. The next day I had a sore throat, which a lot of hot tea knocked out. The day after that I had an obvious fever and started to ache. I had gone four years without catching COVID but now it had me. Fatigue was the worst part of it. But, at least I slept really well, better than usual, in fact.

I am fully vaccinated, by the way, which undoubtedly helped with the mildness of my symptoms.

A few days drifted by with me doing virtually nothing. I didn't read much. I didn't write anything. I didn't watch much of anything on YouTube. I felt blah. Fortunately, that did not last long. Soon I was feeling okay except for a slight runny nose and lingering fatigue. My fever broke one night and I woke up with sweaty bed clothes. I felt like I had it licked. But that's not what happened.

I waited until the sixth day after my first symptoms (which was the tenth day I was quarantined with mom) to test. I was still positive. That was the same day that my sister informed me that my dad caught the virus at his nursing home. He had a fever, slight disorientation and a cough. By this time, my appetite, which had become subdued, came back with a vengeance and I was seeking comfort food. So I loaded up mom and went through the Burger King drive-through (while wearing a mask) to try their “impossible burger” with large fries and a coke. It was delicious and I devoured it.

Mom was doing just fine. She was happy and talkative with no symptoms. The Paxlovid really worked well for her and she experienced no “rebound effect” that some seem to get after taking the anti-viral treatment. That was good. Meanwhile, updates from my dad indicated that he was holding his own, not getting any worse. The nursing home had so many cases at this point that visitors were forbidden. So, I had to rely on updates from my sister, who visited dad through his outside window. But she reported that he was not himself. Tired and not feeling well, of course.

My dog Kudo was really missing me so Jennifer brought her over for a couple of days while the weather was nice. We went for walks in the spacious pastures of my family's farm. She adapted well to being here. But I couldn't sleep as well with her at night. She was not used to staying in her doggie bed all night and she couldn't sleep with me. In order to make sure my mom does not get up too early (which happens about once a month) and does not attempt to roam outside the house (which never happens so far), my brother, who usually takes the night shift of her care, sleeps on the sofa in the living room. I followed suit. It is a comfortable sofa but not big enough to accommodate a dog too. When rain was in the forecast I drove her back home because she basically just mopes when it rains anyway and I could sleep better without her attempts to get on the sofa with me.

On day 12 of the quarantine ordeal I tested mom. She was negative which ended her need to quarantine. My test revealed a fainter T-line which meant the virus was weakening but I was still potentially contagious. It was day eight since my symptoms started. The word from dad was encouraging too, my sister sent a photo out in a group text of him smiling and waving from from his wheelchair through the outside window. He seemed to be improving in the nursing home so that was good news. I felt more upbeat. My symptoms had diminished to just some fatigue and maybe a low-grade fever. The runny nose had stopped.

Day 14. Tested positive again. This time the T-line was even fainter, barely visible. But I could definitely see it so I had to accept the results as positive. Ugh. This was the tenth day of symptoms, which continued to be mild with fatigue being the most pronounced. No aches and my breathing was fine. I shared a photo of the results with Jennifer and we agreed that the virus was fading and that I was probably no longer contagious. We agreed if I was not worse and still tested faintly positive I would come home on Thursday (Day 16) anyway. Most everything I read online stated that I was likely not contagious at this point since I only had mild symptoms.

I spoke with my aunt who had experienced long COVID for a couple of months. Her symptoms were worse than mine and her positive tests were always definitive, never faint. I can't imagine going that long testing positive. But, I guess it could happen to me. After a couple of weeks, her doctor eventually told her that she was no longer contagious even though she had a pronounced cough and other obvious symptoms. There is still so much the medical community does not understand about outlier cases and really the virus in general. Most people can “go by the book” but I felt like I was having to wing it and that there were no clear answers. Was my body simply taking longer to expunge the dead virus? Did I still have the active virus? It was hard to tell.

On Thursday I finally tested negative. Well, mostly negative. There was an extremely faint tinge to the T-line. I really had to get my reading glasses to even see it. Close enough. Everything I had read suggested that I was no longer contagious. Since my symptoms were mild, I probably had not been contagious for several days but I was trying to be conscientious and make I did not give it to Jennifer or any other member of my family. I was able to finally pack up all my clothes and devices and books and supplements and move back home!

Meantime, dad had worsened again. He was developing pneumonia and had a fever of 104. They couldn't give him any antibiotics as he had just completed two rounds due to a bad skin tear on this upper right arm. Even though he is incapable of walking without assistance, he still gets up and tries to walk across his room. Sometimes he makes it. Sometimes he falls. The most recent fall is what tore his skin. In the meantime, they treated him as best they could for his pneumonia. He was a hot mess.

Mom remained fine as far as the virus was concerned. But being with her 24/7 for over two weeks allowed me to monitor the true extent of her deterioration. She had definitely changed in recent weeks. According to her neurologist her mental decline is likely progressing toward Stage Six of dementia, which isn't a pretty picture.

Recent behavior includes a breakdown of her ability to dress herself for bed. She will place her robe over the clothes she wore that day. Sometimes she will do nothing but put on lipstick while supposedly preparing for bed. She will manage to put her gown and robe on but then put her walking shoes back on instead of her slippers. All of that is manageable with supervision, of course, but these are clear example of further decline.

Mom has always washed the dishes after dinner. That is part of her routine. But lately, even though I prepare the dishwater for her, she will only rise the dirty dishes off and place them in the rack, even going so far as to place dirty dishes back in the cabinets. Again, she is still capable of properly completing these tasks but this requires a lot more supervision.

Once she hung her purse on the door handle of my dad's old bathroom. I asked her why it was there. She immediately went into “cover-up” mode and said “Oh, I meant to put it in here” and attempted to hang it from one of the bed posts in her bedroom. It doesn't go there. She never puts it there. When I guided her to where she normally puts it she said, “Oh, that's right.” She hasn't touched it since. That sort of confusion might have been a result of her recovery from COVID, but these are examples of a lot of little things that hint toward further decline.

Mom no longer remembers where I live. I tell her I live across from my great-grandmother's house but that doesn't register with her at all. Even though it is only 3.5 miles away, she no longer remembers any of that. The other day, around 3:30 which is prime sun-downing time, she stated confidently that she was going out to eat dinner and wanted to know “do you want to do with us?” I asked her who “us” was. She looked back at the dining room table and stated with slight confusion that there were some people there “a little bit ago” and she was going with them. I didn't argue or say anything. Later, we had a normal dinner in her kitchen that was mostly prepared by Jennifer.

One day in the not to distant future, my mother, who smiles broadly, looks into my eyes and tells me she loves me a dozen times each day, will not know who I am. That does not bother me. It is an inevitability and I try not to fret over the unavoidable. I just want to try to enjoy what time her brain has left until it checks out of this thing we call reality.

Dad finally recovered from pneumonia and he is negative for “the COVIS” as he calls the virus for some strange reason. So, things have gone back to normal. Well, “normal” is the new normal, which isn't really normal at all. But, after a year of doing this, it has become the way things are.