Alternate title: A hypochondriac in the age of corona virus.
Life was going well until Saturday when I ran into a kerfuffle. I developed a shooting pain down my leg. I was able to walk it off and all was good. Four hours later I could barely walk. The pain was excruciating. My diagnosis was sciatica. Pain meds, hot pad and taking it easy was my response.
Sitting was most uncomfortable. I did better standing and lying down. Sunday morning dawned a beautiful day but my leg did not. I was having both chills and fever. That doesn’t come with sciatica. I took my temperature and it hovered at 101.4. I never have fevers. Then a magnitude 10 headache started. I never get headaches.
I knew it. I must have the dreaded virus. I was thinking about writing down cat care instructions for the beloved husband who would surely take care of them after I was gone. Then I remember my sis-in-law’s discussion about whether they cremate you naked or with a sheet over you. Now it seemed to matter.
Sunday was the worst but by evening, the fever broke. The headache left shortly afterward. I’m very grateful for drugs.
I was so exhausted I couldn’t even google sciatica properly. In the end that’s a good thing because while headache and fever weren’t part of it, the possibility of losing bowel control was. Volcanic poop! Who would have thought of that. Yikes!
So what was it? I’ll never know. Maybe there is a 24 hour version or I caught something else. It will be a mystery of life. Just like my cats, I only get sick on holidays or weekends. No point in calling the doc now. Worst is over and I’m on the down slide.
It was a scary 24 hours. Stay safe and don’t assume every ache or pain is covid-19 (like I do!).