Front Porch: COVID, the gift no one wants

This is the first holiday season when things have started feeling normal(ish) again. Getting caught up in the shopping, decorating, parties, going out to concerts and all the merriment we’ve missed these past two years. How nice it’s been to pretty much breathe freely again.

But COVID, opportunist that it is, decided to finally visit our house this month. It’s always been the most unwelcome of house guests, and now it’s moved in with us.

Bruce was home recovering from hip replacement surgery in November, which had its own challenges, including an ER visit due to an adverse reaction to a pain medication. Our son came home for the first week to help, then a few weeks after he went back to Seattle, I had a morning when I felt really awful. Nausea mostly, but then fever.

Bruce thought maybe I should take a COVID test. COVID didn’t seem to be even a possibility. We were both fully vaccinated and boosted, had our seasonal flu shots and were still usually masked out in public (though not always). And we hadn’t been to a movie or concert or other indoor gathering of groups of people since the pandemic started (with only two exceptions).

We were the poster couple for good COVID behavior. But, as we know, that insidious and pernicious virus can sometimes find its way into our nostrils just the same.

And so I tested positive. Checked in with the doctor, got a prescription for the anti-viral Paxlovid and hunkered down to get through the thing. I’d like to say that I just had mild symptoms, but I didn’t. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. Silver lining: no breathing complications.

We had hoped that by isolating from one another, Bruce would be spared, but, alas, that was not to be. When he tested positive several days later, it looked like he might get by with an easier go, but by that night, some things kind of crashed in on him, and a 911 call became necessary.

The quick-to-arrive paramedics got permission from the hospital for me to accompany Bruce there, so off we all went. We were put into a room with hard walls and a door, and, of course, we were masked. I’m the keeper of family medical information, so I was able to give doctors and nurses the information needed, especially since Bruce was in no shape to, and, happily, after some treatment for him, we were able to return home in the wee hours of the morning.

Bruce is on Paxlovid, too, and is coming along now.

I know that everyone who has had COVID has his or her own story to tell. I’ve left out most of the details of ours because Hanukkah is a few days away, with Christmas just a week after that, and nobody wants to tell or necessarily even hear another long tale of COVID. We want trees and lights, toys and cookies, worship and gratitude and trips to grandma’s house for extra love (and presents!)

And we should be having all of that … and more.

Passing by my husband and me this year will be time to get gifts together for out-of-town family and friends, baking holiday goodies, lunches with friends, Christmas Tree Elegance, the Bing Crosby Holiday Film Festival and all of what is traditional for us – but it’s not all bad. First of all, we’re still alive.

What Christmas is going to be for us this year is a time filed with a much different kind of warmth than the cherished things we usually hold dear in December. We are basking in and remembering the assurance, care and kindness that everybody in the first-responder community that interacted with us showed to us. The thoroughness and careful and timely responses we got from medical professionals in helping us set up our COVID care plan. And the calm and efficient nursing care we received in the ER, which was peppered with as much casual conversation, anecdotal observation and inquiries about our needs that they were able to provide – especially on that Friday night when the ER was jammed (when isn’t it in these flu-filled days)?

Bruce’s nurse during our COVID ER visit, a calm and kind soul named Ryan from Sandpoint, even swapped pest control stories with him. There’s nothing like normal words spoken in normal tones to keep the terror at bay. You are so helpless on a gurney with things being done to you.

And, of course, our friends, who have picked up food and prescriptions for us, and volunteered to do more – there are none better.

My heart is especially full that our friend Kelli took the risk to come and get us, two COVID-positive people, to bring us home from the hospital in the middle of the night, when for-hire car services refused to take us. I can’t blame them, but, still …

We don’t need to open packages under the tree or sing carols or see the lights in the neighborhood in order to celebrate our joy this season. We are warm and rejoicing in the love that has come to us at a true time of need.

May your home be as full this season … and most certainly free from COVID.

Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by email at upwindsailor@comcast.net