Real quick before we get started: If you want me to feel better ASAP, one thing you can do is press the heart button on Substack up here or at the bottom—or even leave a comment! It’ll help get Body Lore in front of more readers who might vibe with it and immediately boost my immunity (I’ve heard).
Also, do me a favor and put on “Power & Control” by Marina when you read this because that’s what’s been stuck in my head as I brainstormed this piece, so I think that makes it the official soundtrack, thanks.
There was a completely different post planned for this Body Lore (about medicine and MLMs—don’t worry, it’s still coming). And it was supposed to go live last week.
But I got COVID. WOOHOO.
SO we’re taking our time and pivoting topics to a less research-intensive one that my foggy brain can handle right now. And which feels more hot to the touch.
Also, Haley Nahman wrote about the perils of self-analysis today, but I’m sick so I can have a little agonizing over my own thoughts as a treat.
Okay, so COVID. Corona no lime. Ms. Rona. The ‘vid. Covidina Menzel.
First, some housekeeping.
I don’t want to get into a whole disclaimer about the particularities of my COVID case and how ‘careful’ I am, but because I know it could be a distraction for you as a reader wondering about this (AKA I too am nosy and always wonder how someone got sick), I’ll give you a brief rundown before we move on and no one messages me about my illness/mitigation measures. Sound good?
This is my (as far as we know, barring asymptomatic cases) second time with COVID. The first time was January of last year and, while it was a mild case (in the sense I didn’t need to go to the hospital), it left me with some Long COVID symptoms that emotionally wrecked me until I was lucky enough for them to dissipate (about ~3 months later). Understandably, I was horrified at the prospect of going through that again, even though I got off relatively easy last time. The first time I got it, I (likely) got it dining indoors. This second time, I likely got it from a friend I spent two days hanging out with back-to-back. Or maybe she got it from me. We’re not sure. In general, I still mask on planes, trains, buses, and in crowded indoor spaces (e.g., concerts).
*ahem* To be clear: I’m not interested in shaming people who are less or more ‘COVID-conscious’ than I am. We’re all in this free-for-all hellscape where our government has essentially given in to capitalist interest and gutted public health research, funding, and safety measures, so it all falls on the average person’s personal calculus to keep themselves and their fellow citizens safe. That’s an impossible situation I choose to blame the powers that be for, not the average citizen trying to survive. Capisce?
Personally, I see masking in public indoor contexts as a small inconvenience with a big personal and communal payoff, so that’s what I’ve been doing. Also inhaling less subway brake dust is probably good for my asthma. Coupled with working from home, these measures have mostly kept me feeling healthy and in control. But it’s obviously not a failsafe. I also took Paxlovid both times, because as someone with asthma, the quick symptom reduction and possible lowering of Long COVID odds is worth the small risk of a rebound case (which can happen even without Pax). The doctor who prescribed it to me this time agreed with my assessment. Pax has helped and I’m now on Day 8 of illness and almost asymptomatic (minus brain fog and some shortness of breath). I’m taking masked walks in the park, but otherwise taking it easy and continuing to isolate (a privilege I have as someone who works from home and has wonderful friends who can temporarily house my somehow-not-sick partner).
Phew. Okay. Got that out of the way.
Now I want to return to a phrase I used in the middle of that honker of a paragraph (I’m sorry).
“Healthy and in control.”
Before I even got COVID, developing Long COVID (or seeing one of my loved ones get it) was my #1 nightmare. I’d seen people in their twenties disabled by it, and my work had me on the side of public health Twitter doling out daily reminders of how each subsequent COVID infection appeared to carry a greater chance of developing Long COVID.
The morbid Body Lore nerd in me kind of relishes the image of my immune system keeping a tally on the wall of my infections—or playing Russian Roulette. But it’s way more complex than that. Fortunately and unfortunately. I know the immune system is a mysterious minx whose full inner workings continue to evade even our best NIH scientists.
The truth is: I don’t know whether I’ll walk away from this COVID infection with Long COVID or not. I’m currently in the process of getting diagnosed with a possible heart condition (I’m okay), which compounds how threatening this feels.
Note: I want to be mindful with how I talk about fearing disability in light of how frustrating that can be for people living with disabilities to read. I know people with disabilities can and do lead full, meaningful lives. Hell, I’m a person with a disability—albeit a quite different one (and if you’re wondering why life-threatening food allergies are considered a disability in the U.S., here’s a brief explainer). However, the reality is that we do live in a country that is horrible at accommodating and recognizing people with disabilities. Medical care is ridiculously expensive (even my Paxlovid would’ve cost me $1600 if my mom hadn’t found a pharmacy that both took my insurance and had it in stock). I have a disability and I’m in solidarity with people who live with disabilities. At the same time, I’d really rather avoid collecting disabilities like Pokemon. Especially ones as under-recognized and poorly understood as Long COVID. And what’s also true is that my tolerance for COVID and Long COVID risk can be a choice because I’m privileged enough to not be immunocompromised, and I have access to care n meds (like Paxlovid) to reduce my risk of severe outcomes.
I brought these fears to my therapist this past week. Yes, I still had therapy this past week since it’s virtual, and in my suffering, I fully forgot about it until it was too late to cancel. Predictably, it helped a bit. I told my therapist that I’m horrified at feeling so out of control of my fate with this COVID case.
She said that she sees this a lot in her clients (she works with a lot of cancer patients and their families, aka my people) and pointed out how the pandemic briefly gave us a collective sense of control over illness and mortality via infection mitigation strategies. She pointed out that many of us weren’t thinking this way before, when we saw things like getting the flu, mono, and even longer extended severe illnesses as experiences that we had to endure occasionally and were part of living in society. And many of us are continuing to grasp at that sense of safety and control, especially those of us who may have felt invincible before.
I saw her point, but I also didn’t entirely agree with it. Putting aside the uneven comparison of COVID to diseases like the flu/mono which, while also potentially disabling, have not reached the level of infectiousness and disabling that COVID appears to be at. But also, I don’t think I ever quite saw myself as that invincible young person. I had a parent die of cancer when I was a kid; I’ve had life-threatening medical conditions since I’ve had memories. I feel like I see and feel mortality all around me more than the average twenty-something.
You can say I’m… not like the other girls.
(If you’re an Enneagram girlie, yes I am a 4, thank you very much.)
So if it’s not a dashed false sense of being invincible, what has me so flummoxed with this COVID case (beyond the usual COVID of it all)?
I suppose what has changed for me over the past few years—even before COVID—is the greater sense of control and the connection I feel to my body.
HELLO, TIME FOR SOME PERSONAL CORPOREAL LORE FROM MY YOUTH.
When I was a tween, one of my best friends was diagnosed with ME/CFS (AKA chronic fatigue, one of the conditions many Long COVID folks deal with) and ended up needing to leave her competitive public school to do homeschooling that worked around her energy levels. I remember being really sad and worried for her, but never reflecting on it as something I needed to guard my own body against. I was too busy being mad that my body wasn’t growing the boobs I desperately wanted.
Around that same time, I had to quit swimming. I’d been a competitive swimmer since I was 7 or 8, but my asthma and eczema had gotten so bad by 13 that I had to stop. And I was pretty resigned to it. I saw the bright side: I could double down on my love for theater—and finally get the green chlorine tint out of my hair.
I famously got mono real bad in high school (pictured above). My friend double-dipped in the tempura sauce we shared and I resigned myself to my fate. It sucked, but shit happens. Just like when I got the flu during a show in college and someone else had to go on for me with 24 hours’ notice (bless you, Nadia, I’ll never forget your service). Oh, and I say ‘famously’ because the mono made me miss a week of the summer physics course I was in (equivalent to a month of material) and I still pulled an A+ in the class after studying at the hospital, to all my classmates’ shock. My ego has never recovered from that high.
High school was also when the disordered eating hit. I’ll spare you the details, but that stuck around on-and-off through the end of college. The real first time I felt like I wrestled with control of my body. All this while my asthma and allergies got worse and worse. By senior year, even a short whiff of my roommate’s essential oils was enough to ruin my breathing for the rest of the day. I landed in the hospital with anaphylaxis 3x in 3 years. Twice due to mysterious cross-contamination at a restaurant after checking with waiters—just like the most recent time in February.
Body? Not in control. But god, how I wished it would be.
Imagine a gradient between exercising cruel control over myself through disordered eating and being bewildered by my body through times of puberty and mono. In adulthood and recovery, I’ve regressed more toward the mean. I still have many reminders of how mysterious my body is (hello, mac n cheese anaphylaxis and new arrhythmia). But I also have fewer illusions I can or should do more to guard against change and danger—beyond following my common sense and intuition (and public health guidance like not drinking raw milk).
So why do thoughts of Long COVID still keep me up at night when I’m much more likely to accidentally die by having a squirrel drop a peanut from a tree into my open mouth? (Don’t come for me, I have not actually run these numbers—but pls feel free to if statistics is your jam like that, ya lil freak.)
“Maybe it’s because I feel like I have more to lose now?” I wondered to my therapist.
Even in college, I never had a super clear vision of what I wanted for my future—what following my dreams meant.
Oh god, it’s getting earnest in here.
Only in the past few years have I admitted to myself that I want to chase writing and publishing. And only this past year did I wake my long-hibernating athletic dreams as I’ve gotten more seriously into long-distance running.
With running especially, it’s the first time I’ve felt this in touch and at peace about movement and eating since before puberty, with so few thoughts of restriction.
When I think about my body succumbing to Long COVID, I think about losing these dreams. I think of needing to find a new career, new hobbies, new ways to connect to my body. It shatters the illusion race training has built for me that if I keep putting miles and fuel and recovery in, I can only progress and get stronger.
Yes, it’s terrifying to dream and put that out in public (god, how embarrassing) but not just because of rejection—but because tomorrow, if my body says nope, it might all be over before it’s even really begun.
The threat of long-lasting post-viral illness is a terrifying reminder that this meat-sack I’m in is not my brain’s puppet. I can’t make it do anything I want. No matter what the longevity bros tell us, we can’t biotech ourselves into pure bodily, immortal control (quite yet).
TO BE CLEAR: I’m talking melodramatically here like I have a terminal illness. I do not (as far I know). I fully intend to keep writing these silly little newsletters and revise my novel and run the goddamn New York City Marathon this fall like the good quarter-life-crisis athlete I am.
But the fragility of those dreams feels especially palpable this week as I wait to see what this virus will do to me this time around. Keeping my fingers crossed and resting is really all I can do. And that both sucks and feels kind of mentally liberating. I already got the ‘vid so there’s nothing I can do right now to keep myself from getting the ‘vid. Because Ms. Rona’s here and, right now, she’s sitting on my chest.
But here’s what I can do. And what I’ve done a great job of thus far.
As with my anaphylaxis episode in February (when I asked the waiter 3x if the mac n cheese was safe before eating and still got got), I did a great job of keeping myself safe and healthy—to the extent that I could. Even though I got sick, I jumped into action, masked up, got tested, notified exposures, advocated for myself, asked for help, rested religiously.
And I’ll continue doing what I’ve done thus far. Checking in with my body. Minimizing risk without completely shutting down my life to avoid it. Responding with rest and medical care when something is up. And recognizing when I’m spiraling over nothing and going down an internet rabbit hole is actually harming, not helping me (Body Lore readers will be happy to know I deleted the Reddit app this week).
SOOOOO I’m bored, sick, and nosy and I wanna know: Any little (or large) spirals you go down about your work and brain when you’re sick? Pls share and help me feel better and I promise I’ll tell you you are extremely valid and smart and not crazy.
ALSO soliciting any sci-fi TV show recs—I just finished The Expanse and my god it was so good and I’m so sad about being done with it.
Love reading your perspective on mortality and writing and keeping it all together! Have you watched Scavengers Reign on HBO? It's pretty unhinged, but I found it wildly compelling.
Se moi? I remember green hair gate…