One of the guests at the small gathering I went to on Friday night texted the group that he and his wife have tested positive for Covid, so I guess that is what I have. When I feel well enough to get out of bed and go out, I guess I will get tested, too. I haven't been out of bed for more than a couple minutes in the last 36 hours. I get up and take a pee, drink more water, and go back to bed. I've put on an iTunes station I made of samba which helps soothe me some, but I lie in bed thinking the worst of things. An old man, sick and alone. . . you know. I think back on my life and see nothing but failures. The future seems grim. These are Covid thoughts, I'm sure, but is this what I will feel like at death, too?
I tried to sleep through the pain, the aches and sweats and chills and bone pain, all day, but when I got up at six, I took two Tylenol and it helped. I will stay on the Tylenol until I am better. I hope that is soon.
It hurts to concentrate now, so I will cut this short. I will be back in bed soon and hope for a return of energy. This is all I have in me today.