Again?

 I have Covid. Again.

I'm kind of hoping that third time is the charm. I'm fully vaccinated (what - five, six times now?), and because of my cancer history and age the doctor easily agreed to prescribe Paxlovid, so I'm halfway through that treatment (thank you to telehealth appointments - 25 minutes after signing up, I was talking to a nurse practitioner from the comfort of my home; the next day, a friend delivered my prescription). I last had Covid over a year ago, and given that my immune system took some huge hits with cancer treatment and I work with teenagers (150 kids a day coming in and out of my room, and some of their hygiene is... questionable), it's probably amazing I haven't had it more often, but I'm glad that the drugs appear to be working. Saturday I was pretty miserable with a headache, sore throat, stuffy nose, and general fatigue. Yesterday it was pretty much just leftover fatigue.

Today, my main symptom is cabin fever. It's mid-winter break, and I am supposed to be with my beloved friend Carolyn in California, going on little adventures and having fun together. She had planned some super fun activities, and we always have the best time together, so to say I am disappointed to be at home rather than on that trip is an understatement.

But the real "again" isn't Covid, I think. The real "again?" is my wake up call.

There are some parts of my life that are going swimmingly well. Work is actually pretty good. My friendships are lovely. I adore my West Seattle home and community. Tessa's launching as she should, and I breathe easier knowing that she's a junior in college and well on her way to finding her path.

But there are other parts where I swear I need ... what? A swift blow to the head sounds violent, but that's the first image that came to my mind. Since I don't believe in violence as a solution to anything, let's say instead, I think I'm getting a wake up call.

There are two things in my life that I am really mismanaging: my health, and my writing. And I think that this round of Covid - and I really am hoping that third time's the charm! - is my wake up call, the persistent alarm going off that screams "pay attention! get out of bed! go! go! go!" and I'm going to try my hardest to pay attention.

My commitment to writing is stronger than ever, and my commitment to caring for my body has somehow gotten lost, but these things are connected. When I move my body, I swear I can feel my braincells activating. When I don't move my body, I swear I hear them mumbling "whatever, leave me alone!" and rolling over to zone out, die, shut down, or nap. And I think that Covid is a reminder about two things this round:

1) Health is everything. On Saturday, I was just trying to get by, blowing my nose with disgusting results, counting the hours between ibuprofen doses. I could not be creative, or accomplish anything. I ate leftover takeout, I stayed in my pajamas all day, and I was pretty genuinely miserable. I was glad when it was bedtime, because I hoped sleep would block the discomfort. And... I know this all too well. I know that everything can change in an instant, and that without health everything else stops. I know it because of Covid, I know it because a dear friend had a heart attack and is now on a strict regimen designed to save her life (pills, lifestyle changes, diet), and I know it because I'm a freakin' cancer survivor. 

When I first started recovering from cancer, I took up running, watched my diet, and got into the best shape of my life. I knew how important it was to prioritize health, and I just felt - aglow. I felt energized, and alive. How did I let that go?

Covid is a reminder, again. I can take care of myself, or my body will fall apart.  There is no other option. I am reminded.

2) I think the universe is telling me to stop procrastinating and to write more. Not a half hour here or there, but to really actually get moving and write and write and write. Brainstorm, chart characters, churn out chapters, edit, edit, edit. Covid, in my case, and after the first day, is more about boredom and cabin fever than anything else. I am trapped in my comfortable home, with all the supplies to sustain me. Friends have offered grocery runs, and I am always well stocked anyway. I am forbidden from engaging in person with other humans until Wednesday at earliest (or whenever I test negative for 48 hours), so I'm alone with no demands on my time. It's mid-winter break, and I cannot travel or socialize, so.... what will I do? There are no excuses left. No stack of grading due tomorrow, no social commitments, no errands to run. There's just me, and my choices. How will I use my time?

No lie, I spent two days moping. Saturday I had a pretty good excuse - my head was pounding. Yesterday, maybe I had half an excuse... I made a big batch of soup (which is good for health, and food is a necessary item after all) and then I felt tired. I sat in front of the TV and crocheted, finishing a blanket I have been working on for two months. (Michelle Obama was right - doing this kind of thing - she knits - is so good for my mind, stilling the anxious voices, and creating something lovely in the process.)

Maybe I could have written a bit yesterday, but maybe not. Reading was fatiguing yesterday. Or is that an excuse?

But today I'm out of excuses.

I'm here with you, my little audience of readers, rambling on as a warmup, and my body is warming up as well, the treadmill beneath me set to three miles per hour, the fastest speed at which I can walk but also type. I have a notebook next to me where I jot my thoughts about plot, character, and theme sitting next to me. The document with my first draft is pulled up on another screen.

I think that Covid might have been necessary. It would have been so easy to visit Carolyn, to come home and do chores and grade a bit and visit a few local friends, and never write a word.

But without my health, I have nothing, and I can't think straight. I am reminded.

And if I don't create the time, the habit, the wordcount, this book will not write itself. I am reminded.

So, dear readers, Covid has a silver lining. Now that the worst has passed, I will take it for what it is, and do what I keep saying I should do.

My plan: 1000-2000 words per day for the rest of break, a minimum of 7000 words. And yoga, and walking on the treadmill, and if my body lets me, running on the treadmill too. It would be nice if I could do some walks outdoors, and even try to run to Lowman Beach and back, but I don't need that to happen to hit my goals. I can treadmill walk, do Yoga with Adriene videos, do a little yardwork (always good for a workout), and I can use that energy to fuel my writing.

I'll be back here - I'll let you know tomorrow how it goes, because warming up here is really helpful. And if I'm not here, feel free to call me on it.

Health.

Writing.

After my love for my daughter and my hope for the future, there is nothing more important.

So here I go!