It started Saturday, I assume as a virus. Chills, fever, and an intense headache. Covid test negative. Then a strange stiff neck, like a vise. More fevers and chills, still Covid negative.
Feeling a bit better on Sunday, ok this is just a cold or flu. Terrible body aches, but no cough and no congestion, the fever broke. Monday I stayed home to rest and in case I was contagious. Another Covid test negative.
By Tuesday I was short of breath. But that’s a side effect I’m used to, so it was manageable. Until it wasn’t. Tuesday night I slept sitting up, increasingly alarmed at how ashen I looked and how my chest was tight. I messaged my nurse navigator.
Wednesday morning, Paulie took the kids to school and then headed to an ENT specialist doctors appointment for which he’d been waiting many weeks. I labored to breathe and knew when I saw my nurse flash on my phone what she was calling to say–“You have to go to the ER, I’m worried about a blood clot.”
Ok, scramble to send a few messages, get Paulie on the line. We decide, I DON’T KNOW WHY, that he should complete his appointment and then come take me to Urgent Care.
At this point, my face is grey and my lips look like two dead alewives. I’m crawling on the floor so I don’t fall or pass out in the house alone. It takes me an hour to put on pants. And by pants, I mean underwear.
Meanwhile:
girl at large 
