Day 01

The first positive. Uploading this several weeks later, little would I know just how lousy things would get. The chest infection I already had (before the covid arrived on our daughters school bag or pencil case or manky facemask that had inevitably been touched several hundred times during the course of the school day, several days earlier) was knocking me sideways anyway, something the course of antibiotics and steroids weren’t helping with. Day 5 seemed to be the worst, with my wife having to call for an ambulance. Days 7&8 were a bed-ridden haze, with the next couple seeing me float around the house like a wheezing Nosferatu in a dressing gown - at which point the grumpfog started to lift and on day 12 I felt amazingly well before feeling like I was a wrung out dishcloth the following day. After a total of 14 days the LFT was finally negative and the (different) antibiotics were doing their thing - then by day 20 I felt well enough to take on some freelance work again.

As I type this 23 days later, the chest infection has eased up considerably to the point I think it’s finally gone, which is a much more welcome kind of positive feeling, even if it’s left me feeling kynda somewhat hollow.