My husband and I had been feeling lousy ever since we received our second booster shot a week ago on Wednesday. We chalked it up to residual effects of the shot which we had experienced each time Moderna was injected into our arms. No biggie. But when ‘lousy’ continued into Friday, I tested myself for Covid, just to be sure. I was going to be helping my daughter with her infant son that day and they were the LAST people I wanted to compromise. Negative! The one pink line confirmed that I was not contagious. Or so I thought.

I starting coughing that day and spiked a fever that evening. Upon waking Saturday morning, I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck. After taking another home antigen test, the dreaded two lines appeared. And, of course, due to the contagious nature of the newest Omicron variant, my husband, daughter and grandson all got it as well. How to assuage that guilt? A tall order. We are all struggling with this disease the best we can. I’m on the upswing, fortunately. All I can do is reassure my family that they, too, will be there in a few days.

Trying to determine how I got this when being so careful to wear a mask while inside with people is a futile exercise. We don’t go out to eat unless it’s outside. And I can’t remember the last time we dined ‘al fresco’. I think I have a good idea where I might have picked this up. Does blame help the situation, though? At this point the variant is so contagious, it was almost inevitable.

When we called Bryan to tell him we were both sick and that our family Memorial Day picnic which we were hosting had to be canceled, he was bummed. I figured it was because he loves to be with family and he loves to eat. His 40th birthday trip with dad to fly on a World War II aircraft this Friday had to be canceled. He’s been looking forward to this for over a year. Bummer again. No wonder he was upset!

But in talking to his roommate, I learned that he actually was about to cry when told the news. He just wanted us both to feel better. I’m sure there was a good bit of worry in there as well. All through this pandemic we have been stressing the seriousness of catching Covid so that Bryan would take every precaution at work and in the community. He had to live with us while his roommate recovered from it. He understands the import.

On Memorial Day evening at around 10:15, we got a phone call from Bryan’s roommate. They were in the car on their way down to our house following a picnic at his family’s home. A paper plate covered in foil was placed on our side porch by the door. We talked to Bryan and Glenn through an upstairs bedroom window to thank them for thinking of us while we were in insolation. How I wanted to go down and hug Bryan and reassure him we would be fine! But when a coughing jag interrupted our conversation, I was glad we were far away. He seemed hesitant to leave us, but by then it was 10:30 and the nighttime cough medicine we had just taken was beginning to take effect so we said good night with full hearts.

Yesterday we had the food they saved for us – two hot dogs and two ears of corn. And, boy, was it delicious! Perhaps it was partly because of the love that was served up along with the food. And that nourishing feeling will last long after the food is a distant memory.