“You tested positive for COVID-19; I’m sure you’re not surprised,” the health-care worker gently told me as she handed me the test results.
I had registered a temperature the night before, preceded by a cough and respiratory irritation. “Maybe it’s just my yearly sinus infection,” I told Lori.
I was wrong.
Getting into my car with the test results, I thought about the few people with whom I had interacted for the past several days. I immediately had a sense of responsibility for them. And that invited feelings of anxiety and guilt.
The first thing I did was call my wife and apologize. “Why are you apologizing?” she asked. “You’re the one with COVID.”
I immediately countered with, “But what if I have given it to you?”
Then there was a co-worker I thought I might have possibly exposed.
Part of the problem is not knowing the effects this infection has for ourselves or others. In addition to the immediate threat it poses, survivors face unknowns.
Based on current estimates, about 10% of Covid-19 patients develop lasting symptoms, one of the most common being a condition strikingly similar to chronic fatigue syndrome. Dr. Anthony Fauci said back in July: “They just don’t get back to normal energy or normal feeling of good health.”
Other long-term effects may include headaches, brain fog, sleep problems, a racing heart, joint and muscle pain, and fatigue. Some also experience a relapse of fever, muscle pain, and exhaustion, known as “post-exertional malaise,” if they exercise beyond their capabilities.
A heart condition called myocarditis has also been linked to COVID. It leads to inflammation of the heart muscle, which can affect its ability to pump and may have been the cause of Keyontae Johnson’s physical collapse, just 21 years old, who fell face down on the basketball court, unconscious, back in mid-December 2020.
“What if I exposed someone? What if they not only get sick now but have to live with even a few of those long-term effects?” I thought.
And though my symptoms have been comparatively mild, what about these unknowns. What if…”
As I let my mind hover over all those scenarios, feelings of anxiety and guilt multiplied, occupying way too much space in my mind.
Everything I was concerned about began with the word “if.” I know the rule: about 85% of the things we worry about don’t happen. I can “if” myself into a room occupied with fear and anxiety. So, I had to make a choice: drop the “ifs” immediately. Then leave them with the Lord.
Taking action can help avoid the perception of being a victim. I stay upstairs while my wife stays downstairs. It’s inconvenient; it’s not fun; I miss her. But I am protecting her.
Admitting our feelings to another person is beneficial, too. Some find writing their emotions out to be helpful. It works for me. As Christine Carter said of fear: “Name it to tame it. Instead of denying that you’re afraid, look fear in the face. Give it a name.”
My feelings of guilt and anxiety may be COVID induced, but I must still own them, and therefore address them, acknowledging them for what they are: perceived threats to the well-being of those I love or to myself. Protecting ourselves and those we care about is a natural instinctual response to danger, a built-in protective mechanism that nonetheless can subtly transform into a host of emotional maladies, like fear and anxiety .
Many of you have tested positive for COVID. Others live close to someone who has contracted it. I want to invite you to name your fear, guilt, or remorse with me. Writing it out can help. Try it, then send me your thoughts to my email address, drdavid@davidwhitlock.org. I’ll read it, keeping it confidential, of course, and then I’ll do my best to respond to you personally.
For all of you who have tested positive, I’m hoping and praying that your recovery will be swift and that you will not experience any long-term effects from COVID; for those who haven’t: may you remain COVID free.
And may God use the vaccine to halt this horrible pandemic.