Sarah Roush

Sarah Roush

COVID-19. The gift that keeps on giving. Abundantly. Despite the lack of appreciation. Ugh.

Despite conflicting information, the Hubs and I both have been able to receive the first-round vaccination shot against this virus. Because we both had this blasted nuisance, we knew there would be a delay with our eligibility to receive these shots. I was told 90 days by friends who had COVID and had received communications from their health department or their doctor’s offices.

I received no such information, nor was I able to reach anyone regarding this question, so I went by they had been told. The Hubs came equipped with a whole health care team once he was released from the medical center after his battle with COVID. His nurse told him he could get a vaccination after only 60 days. Who was correct?

The Hubs jumped through several hoops to obtain his shots, making phone call after phone call, he wound up driving to the next town over to get his shot, in a few weeks, he will return for round two. I pulled up the health department website and made an appointment in less than four minutes. I have to wonder what people without access to electronic equipment do to get scheduled. My parents don’t have a computer, nor do several of my older family members. They at least have someone who will make the appointment for them, but what about others who are not so fortunate?

I will say this, the set up at our local fairgrounds for vaccination was very well done, I was there less than a half hour and everything seemed to be running smoothly with their team of volunteers and professionals. The shot was delivered expertly with minimal discomfort and everyone was friendly and courteous. Well done!

Five hours later, I had my usual reaction to any vaccination — the spot felt like I had been kicked by a cow. Thankfully, this hypothetical cow was a lot smaller than the one from the shingles shot; that one was delivered by a market-ready steer, whereas this felt more like a 5-week-old calf. Farmers will appreciate the differentiation.

The Hubs is improving daily and slowly regaining his strength back, he still gets frustrated with his lack of stamina, but he is light years ahead of where he was this time last month. Myself, however, am lacking my sense of taste and smell. Still. It makes cooking a challenge, and I am paranoid about how my house smells.

Stench from the garbage, litter box and laundry goes unnoticed unless the Hubs says something, which he won’t in case he gets told to “do something about it.” I even managed to give myself a mild case of food poisoning by consuming some spoiled dairy product. I could not tell the cottage cheese had turned rancid — the date was okay — the product looked fine. It wasn’t until I was in the bathroom being revisited by paste I had eaten in kindergarten, that I realized what had happened. Clearly, COVID’s fault.

My lack of senses (ahem!) has led to weight loss, which means, unfortunately, clothes shopping. Never a favorite activity, I had dashed into the local store and snagged a pair of jeans a size smaller than normal. Dressing rooms are still closed, so I had to purchase them to try them on. When I slipped them on, I thought they were okay, a little loose, but good enough. It wasn’t until halfway through the next day, that I realized they were big enough to pull off without unfastening. I needed a smaller size.

I retuned to the store and found a pair a size smaller, but the cut must be slightly different, because while I could get them on, my waist looked like a sausage-casing explosion. It is not a good look. I blame it also on COVID.

The most recent frustration has to do with the combination of spring, and those stupid masks. I understand fully the reason why we are wearing them, and I comply. But. For people with seasonal allergies, they are gross. Sneezing while wearing a face covering creates a cringeworthy experience. If you are like me — one sneeze is not enough, I usually sneeze anywhere between three to eight times in a row. Which then leaves me repulsed because of the moisture-soaked cloth now clinging to my nose and mouth. Add the bonus of witnesses steering clear of the now disgusting sneezing-gagging- eye-streaming hot mess that is my face, and I wonder why I bother getting out of bed. Again, I blame COVID for this.

Earlier in the week, we received the first statement for The Hub’s extended stay in the ICU from one of the hospitals he was in. I am not certain what the specifics on the bill relate to, but the amount was for over $243,000.00. For a minute, my vision went a little dark when he shared that information. A staggering amount, with more to come. This is totally COVID’s fault.

There are more issues and annoyances to deal with, including the fact the beloved peanut-butter and dark-chocolate eggs available only this time of year, somehow manage to taste salty and musty at the same time; a possible return of taste — but not a good one. Again, COVID sucking simple happiness out of life.

Hopefully, this pandemic will soon be a thing of the past and we can resume “normal” or whatever passes for that, until then, it’s COVID’s fault.

Written and submitted by Sarah Roush for The Circleville Herald. The views of this column may not necessarily reflect that of the newspaper.

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