“David…David…time to get up…time to get going.”
Those were the words my dad would say if I didn’t get up on time. He didn’t need to shout; the sound of his steady voice was enough to get my attention at the early hour.
I can still hear his footsteps tromping down the hall to my bedroom. With one eye opened by then, I knew it was only a matter of moments until Dad’s wake-up call would reverberate in my room, but I would still wait for his spoken words, as if snoozing that extra 5 seconds would make a difference. Still, I relished those last few winks.
Dad’s been gone for over four years, and I’m not telling you how long it’s been since I was a teenager. But lately, it seems like I’ve been hearing Dad’s footsteps, followed by his alarm-clock-voice.
It seems like Dad is telling me one thing, while my post-COVID fatigue feels like it’s saying another.
I’m not alone in experiencing some lingering effects of COVID.
“This is a real phenomenon, “Dr. Fauci recently said in an interview. Extreme fatigue was the first symptom that Fauci listed as commonly present in “long-haulers,” defined as those whose symptoms last more than 28 days after their infection. Other symptoms included muscle aches, temperature dysregulation, and brain fog.
I’m less than 28 days out from testing positive for COVID, and thankfully, my fatigue is fading. That tiredness that only a couple of weeks ago seemed so heavy, deep down in my bones, at last has begun to lift. More and more, I hear the 70’s rock band, Chicago, singing Peter Cetera’s lyrics, “Feelin’ Stronger Every Day,” in the back of my mind.
Sometimes we have to take baby steps. My temptation is to go from “0 to 60” in one day. When I first got on my stationary bike, I had to put that image of cruising past the finish line of the Tour de France out of my mind and instead pretended I was casually riding my bike through the neighborhood on a lazy, sun-shiny day.
But before I even put on my cycling shorts, before I ever arrived at the place of wanting to move with any celerity whatsoever, I had to face another obstacle. It’s what I call The Temptation of the Quarantine Quagmire.
Quarantine can be tempting. For someone who relishes solitude, I admit, isolation does have some appealing aspects:
No outside commitments.
Alone time.
Forced rest.
Leisurely reading.
Binging on TV.
And maybe best of all: The perfect reason to indulge in comfort foods like cream of wheat, chicken and noodle soup, apple pie, popcorn, basically anything I felt like eating. (The “Quarantine 15” refers to the weight gain some people have experienced since stay-at-home guidelines went into effect.) Quarantine makes putting on weight all the more convenient and reasonable.
The Quarantine Quagmire invited me to stay just a little longer and relax for a few more days, weeks, and months. “Tell your wife you can’t take out the trash,” it said. “Tell her you can no longer unload the dishwasher or walk the dogs. After all, YOU’RE IN QUARANTINE.”
I listened and rehearsed my lines: “I’m too tired. I need a couple more days, weeks, months, years, to relax.”
And I saw myself slumping into the couch and disappearing in it.
I didn’t like it, not at all.
If it wasn’t John Wayne in the back of my head, with words from his 1972 movie, The Cowboys, hollering, “Hurry up, we’re burning daylight,” it was my dad, clomp, clomp, clomping down the hall, standing at my door, pausing for that one, last second, before announcing to me:
“Time to get up, time to get going.”
And so it was.
And so it is.
I’m on my way.