Sick, but not Sorry
When you isolate yourself, it can be easy to convince yourself you’re an island.
When you isolate yourself, it can be easy to convince yourself you’re an island.
The transition between being sick as a child and being sick as an adult is harsh. As a child, your mom gets you soup, you stay home from school and watch Maury do makeovers. The first time I was sick as an adult, I realized: I would have to buy my own Gatorade. I would have to make my own soup. When I came to that realization, I was no longer simply sick. I was also lonely. Things are different now. I have a husband who buys Gatorade. But being ill as an adult can still be a lonely experience. As a child, you have no compunctions about sneezing all over your family, deriving comfort from them even as you infect them. As an adult, you know you need to stay away from everyone you love so they don’t get ill as well. I got my first case of Covid last week and all these thoughts occurred to me. I was drowning in Gatorade. But I also felt lonely as I sweated it out (literally) in my bed. My husband was relegated to the couch for the foreseeable future. Our second wedding anniversary would be celebrated at a distance. It was easy to feel lonely before I looked at my phone.
It was easy to feel lonely before I looked at my phone.
It was easy to feel lonely before I looked at my phone. When I dragged myself from the delirium of my fever dreams, I saw a phone full of texts. I had so many loved ones reaching out—both expected and unexpected. My mom and dad texted, of course. But so did a few New York friends who I never expected to hear from. It was nice to hear from them. It was nice to be reminded I had friends beyond the four walls of my bedroom. One of my friends sent me a Grubhub gift card featuring my own face. One of my friends sent me all her office’s gossip that week. (Sidenote: I love office gossip from offices I am not in.) Every local friend offered to be the one to bring me Gatorade. When you isolate yourself, it can be easy to convince yourself you’re an island. And it is easy to isolate! Sometimes, you have to do so, like when you get Covid. And sometimes, you do so, perhaps, unconsciously, to reinforce your own loneliness. “I don’t have anyone who cares about me,” you can say to yourself, if you’re not bothering to see beyond your own nose. But there are so many people who love and care for you. There are so many people who, if you reach out, will reach back. One of them will probably even buy you Gatorade.