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Covid Quarantine How it Started

Can’t get warm. I kept increasing the thermostat a few degrees at a time until the reading reached 89 degrees. Very unlike me. I am not a heat loving person.

Temperature check: 99.8 fahrenheit–hummmm, not good.

Placed a call into my manager and informed him of my condition. Told him I would be going for a coronavirus test tomorrow. 

“So are you calling off for tomorrow?” he asked.

Really?! In the time of Covid-19, and I am being asked if I will be coming into work the following day when I have a low grade temp. Frankly, for me, it’s a flat out temp because I tend to run low normally. But really?! Why would someone ask such a question?

Whatever? Maybe the information just needs to sink in.

The beginning

Sleeping last night was practically impossible with the body aches that kept me awake. The searing spasmisms jumped from one joint to another like having miniature lightning bolts zapping through random areas of my body. 

Scheduling a Covid-19 test at the Quickcare down the street using the online scheduling software they had on their website I picked the earliest time slot. About an hour prior to the appointment time the facility sent out a text message with an attached registration form for preregistration. 

Next a text message was received informing me they were ready to receive me.

When I arrived at the location I got to sit for nearly half an hour before being called back into a patient room. The nurse assistant asked what my visit was for, so I proceeded to tell her my symptoms and that I came for a Covid-19 test. 

The assistant left the room and returned with the white plastic tube that contained a swab. She pulled out the swab and informed me to pull my mask down off my nose but to keep my mouth covered. The swab was gently swirled in each nare then placed back in the plastic tube and the assistant left the room with the sample. 

I sat and waited in the room listening to the door in the room next to me open and close. I could hear the doctor introduce himself and tell the patient that the results from their coronavirus test came back negative. 

‘Lucky them’ I thought. 

I could hear more chatter going on, but was preoccupied with my own concerns about my results. 

My mind swam with wonder, ‘do I have covid? How will I react if the doctor comes in and says I have covid? What he says I don’t have covid? If I don’t have coronavirus than why did i have a fever, body aches and chills”

Over all about 45 minutes past before the doctor came in, introduced himself then informed me that I tested positive for the coronavirus. 

Part of me was relieved because I felt like I was losing my mind. Then part of me began to worry; thoughts and questions swirled in my brain.

‘I need to monitor my breathing and oxygen saturations. I don’t want to get bad enough to need to be intubated. How bad will I get?’

I asked about taking aspirin because the first thing we do in the hospital is to place patients on a heparin drip due to the coagulopathy that occurs with Covid-19.

He told me that an aspirin would be a good idea. He then relayed to me that he had coronavirus the month previously and gave advice regarding making sure to eat and drink, take vitamin D, vitamin C, zinc and to perform deep breathing exercises.

Quarantine begins-day 1

Spend the day breaking the news to family and friends I have Covid-19.

Hide away in my room achy. Turn on the TV and flip through Youtube channels. Growing bored of Youtube I turn on Netflix and binge watch a show. 

This will be a breeze. Just monitor myself, get up hourly, and deep breathing exercises. No problem, right?

Well, it turns out it’s harder than it sounds. Coronavirus sucked my energy dry;just getting up to go to the bathroom turned into a chore. 

Day 2

Day 2 quarantine:

Still having body aches, throat is sore and head is throbbing. 

Had my son pick up a ‘medicine ball’ from Starbucks; the drink coated my throat like a warm blanket on a cold night. 

With not a lot of energy I binge watched a Netflix show and fell into a restless sleep for most of the day. Waking up to the occasional ding from my phone notifying me of  text messages from a friend or family member worried about my condition looking for updates.

Day 3

Day 3 quarantine:

Wake up, take a shower, get dressed. These simple actions themselves drain me of energy. Binge watch/sleep through Netflix. Rely on others to bring food and drink to the room. I’m being treated like a pirah. Everyone else in the house has tested negative for Covid-19. 

Booooo, selfishly I desired they would test positive so I wouldn’t have to rely on them to bring me food and drinks and that I could leave my room.

Needing toilet paper, my son infiltrated my room wearing a full blown gas mask to make his way through to my closet where bulk Costco items are stored. Yes, an actual World war II respirator with eye goggles circles, long nose piece with side filters; the type used to protect from mustard gas. You could hear deep breathing in and out. If he had stopped to say “Luke I am your father” it would have made my day. 

The poor dog didn’t recognize my son. He barked, growled and his hackles stood on end, the cats scattered and fled to different hiding places.

Day 4

Day 4 quarantine:

This is day 4 of quarantine and I am losing my fucking mind!

I don’t know if I can even stomach turning on the TV today. 

Pulled out some draws that were getting out of control from stuffing random objects in to avoid being turned into a play toy by the kittens. If not a play toy than a teething object. The two of them are ganging up against me! Try to move something and they dig their little claws either into the object I’m trying to organize or into me! Little buggers! 

The kittens are slowing me down. 

Not to mention one of them had a poo that stuck to her bum fur that must have annoyed her enough to drag her backside across the tile in the bathroom leaving a five inch long brown pudding like smear. 

Scooping the kitten up in one arm and turning the sink on to pour out warm water, I then grabbed a tennis ball sized wad of toilet paper, took the kitten over to the sink, drenched the toilet paper and wiped down her bum. As her bottom became soaked from the water she squirmed, clawed and screeched out a distressed kitten mew in complaint. 

Try to take a few steps and they are there under my feet tripping me up. One of them came flying out from under the bed and jammed one of their front paws right in between my big toe  and second toe. I nearly tumbled over. They’re trying to kill me! Not very wise since I  feed them.

While digging through my things I found five notebooks with notes with ideas for writing and notes on brainstorming ideas. What the fuck is wrong with me?! Why 5 notebooks! These need to be consolidated. No wonder I haven’t been able to get anywhere with my writing! It’s spread all over the place. 

*Disclaimer: to be fair; I do just grab the nearest book next to me to pour my brains out on the pages. And I fear if I spend too much time looking for a medium to write down the information I fear the idea will escape me as ideas have done in the past. 

Note to self: just bring a small notebook to write down ideas, something that will just fit in my pocket.

While organizing/cleaning my brain, I also came across numerous cross stitch projects and fabric for sewing either a project bag or quilt. Why do I have so much stuff?!!!! I must have an attention deficit and I’m just not aware. Well, guess what, self? YOU NEED TO FOCUS!  

There is no way I can get them done before quarantine is over. Not humanly possible. 

I don’t know what possessed me to even think such a thing. I’m going crazy. My sinuses are stuffed up so much I am positive my face is puffy from the pressure.

Too many shining new projects and an overabundance of hobbies and goals I would like to accomplish. Which of them to concentrate on for three months, that is what needs to occur; PICK and STICK!

Hey, that sounds like a good motto.

I should turn that into a t-shirt.

The kittens are at it again! They are attacking cords and trying to walk across my keyboard. 

Apparently the Tiger Balm I put on my back is not a deterrent. The lumbar section of my back is throbbing from spending extended time in bed watching the dummy box so I smeared some Tiger Balm on the small of my back to help relax the muscles in the area. Tiger Balm has a strong smell, I figured the savages would be repelled and leave me alone. They have a strong will. 

Now one of them is purring and rubbing their adorable fuzzy face on me while attacking the wire from my earbuds. Oh my god, she is so cute! How could I be mad at these two? She just let out a kitten trill and is snuggling up to my face, sliding herself around my neck and bumping her head on my chin. She repeats the action over and rubs her head a little more assertively each time. She bewitched me with her cuteness washing away my cranky mood from earlier. 

Out of energy….the television gets turned on.

*Sigh* 45 minutes trying to save my sanity has drained me and I have resorted back to the idiot box, bed and sleep.

Featured

One Thousand Words

According to the experts who are accomplished, published authors and professors to become proficient at writing, one needs or should write one thousand words a day. This advice makes perfect sense.


As the saying goes, you must walk before you can run. A marathon runner doesn’t just appear the day a person puts on and laces up a shiny new pair of runners. The runner progresses through practice, small bits of mileage in the beginning, then slowly adding more and more miles. It would be ridiculous for someone to wake up one day and run twenty-six miles without there being a high potential for injury.


One thousand words. Ha. No problem, right? Well, if you haven’t been writing in a long while, that one thousand word minimum at first seems easily obtainable, that is until you sit down for the first time to type out the words. It’s like starting a one-mile run. At first, one-mile sounds easy because—it’ s—-just —-” one”—-mile. If you haven’t run a mile in a long time, you WILL have walk periods and moments when you think it would be best to turn around. But you get through it, one step at a time.


The introvert inside me questions if I even speak one thousand words in a day. I’m sure I do, but really…? YES, one thousand words! Like Nike says-Just do it. It will pump you up! Good gravy and meatballs, I’m sounding like a cliché spaz.


Write the freaking words. It doesn’t matter how, longhand, with a pen, pencil, crayon or type it in a word doc or standing on your head. If you can’t get through one thousand words, how do you expect to grow? If you have the intention of writing a book and can’t get through the exercise of scribing down a mere one thousand words, then do you genuinely think you can accomplish writing a book?


If you really want it, you will do it.

Believe in yourself.


Happy writing.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

Just wanting to send out a quick “Happy Valentine’s Day” to everyone. If you’re like me, you don’t have a spouse or significant other as a Valentine, but I view anyone who has touched my life as a Valentine. Without all of the lovely people I get to interact daily, my life would only be one dimensional. From the grocery store clerk, bagger, post person, the patients I serve at work, coworkers, family and this caring blogging community, I wish you all a Happy Valentines Day. ❤️

Recovering from Covid and Rekindling Writing

I have recovered from Covid and returned to work this past Thursday. Slept like a rock that night. Still dragging a bit with taste and smell diminished, but slowly returning.

The writing rabbit whole. Well, I delved back into writing after feeling like I didn’t have the time, didn’t have anything important to say, felt that no one would be interested in what I have to say or worst of all……..people would say that my writing sucked ass. 

            I happened to be stuck in the internet vortex reading one reddit post, website or blog after another. You know, that “Oh, that link with that title looks interesting, let’s take a look, just one more site. “dun, dun, dun…… get there, read a bit, and get tempted by another link. Click. Repeat. Don’t judge, you know you have done it.

            Well, in the never-ending clicking I happened to come across someone posting information about The Artist’s Way, A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron. The author of the post described how they had started writing Morning Pages every day and it had help spark their creativity. Interest peaked.

            So, being curious, I googled the book and clicked on an Amazon link, since I am a prime member. Read a few reviews, weeding through both the good and the bad. After reading the reviews I decided to order the book.

            I am currently working my way through the book and have been doing Morning Pages consistently since I began.  I myself have been using the Leuchtturn1917 notebook

            Quick explanation of Morning Pages: 

You might need to get up a bit earlier than normal, say 30 minutes or so, and write three pages, pen and paper, just scribble down your thoughts, energy, emotions, you name it.  No editing, no neatness required, just jot down your inner most thoughts as fast as you can (at least that’s what I do before thoughts escape), and spelling doesn’t matter. 

This is done before you look at and read all your electronic gadgets.

You don’t go back and look at the pages you have written. 

If you feel like it and are self-conscious that someone will read your most inner thoughts that you keep hidden away in your mind; you can rip the pages out and shred them or set them on fire if you feel like it, just don’t burn anything else down (It’s writing, not learn how to become a pyro).

            Maybe my brain was ready for some writing, needed to be unblocked or I just needed to read what Julia Cameron had to say, but I have found that my brain has not turned off. I have had ideas running rampant since I began my morning pages. One idea after the other filling my head. 

            Part of what I have learned from the exercises…I don’t give a shit if you like what I write or not, I’m writing for me. If you happen to be entertained from what I write, then I am glad you enjoyed. Also, the more I continue to write, the more I am freeing myself from phycological constraints that have kept from writing. 

            So, will I continue with Morning Pages? That is a definite yes. Can I say I will get it done every day? Mmmmm, will do my best. 


I have recovered from Covid and returned to work this past Thursday. Slept like a rock that night. Still dragging a bit with taste and smell diminished, but slowly returning.

The writing rabbit whole. Well, I delved back into writing after feeling like I didn’t have the time, didn’t have anything important to say, felt that no one would be interested in what I have to say or worst of all……..people would say that my writing sucked ass. 

            I happened to be stuck in the internet vortex reading one reddit post, website or blog after another. You know, that “Oh, that link with that title looks interesting, let’s take a look, just one more site. “dun, dun, dun…… get there, read a bit, and get tempted by another link. Click. Repeat. Don’t judge, you know you have done it.

            Well, in the never-ending clicking I happened to come across someone posting information about The Artist’s Way, A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron. The author of the post described how they had started writing Morning Pages every day and it had help spark their creativity. Interest peaked.

            So, being curious, I googled the book and clicked on an Amazon link, since I am a prime member. Read a few reviews, weeding through both the good and the bad. After reading the reviews I decided to order the book.

            I am currently working my way through the book and have been doing Morning Pages consistently since I began. 

            Quick explanation of Morning Pages: 

You might need to get up a bit earlier than normal, say 30 minutes or so, and write three pages, pen and paper, just scribble down your thoughts, energy, emotions, you name it.  No editing, no neatness required, just jot down your inner most thoughts as fast as you can (at least that’s what I do before thoughts escape), and spelling doesn’t matter. 

This is done before you look at and read all your electronic gadgets.

You don’t go back and look at the pages you have written. 

If you feel like it and are self-conscious that someone will read your most inner thoughts that you keep hidden away in your mind; you can rip the pages out and shred them or set them on fire if you feel like it, just don’t burn anything else down (It’s writing, not learn how to become a pyro).

            Maybe my brain was ready for some writing, needed to be unblocked or I just needed to read what Julia Cameron had to say, but I have found that my brain has not turned off. I have had ideas running rampant since I began my morning pages. One idea after the other filling my head. 

            Part of what I have learned from the exercises…I don’t give a shit if you like what I write or not, I’m writing for me. If you happen to be entertained from what I write, then I am glad you enjoyed. Also, the more I continue to write, the more I am freeing myself from phycological constraints that have kept from writing. 

            So, will I continue with Morning Pages? That is a definite yes. Can I say I will get it done every day? Mmmmm, will do my best. 

Quarantine continues….


Day 5 Quarantine

Today seems to be a fairly good day. Only a slight headache, some sinus congestion and a bit of a runny nose. Feeling creative and bored, I cross stitch.

Time 18:50

I just realized I have lost my ability to taste food. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Perhaps the bite sized candy bar I just ate was stale and lost its flavor. 

Try a peppermint patty, “yes, that’s going to have flavor” I think to myself.

So, I dig out a bite size peppermint patty, peel the silver wrapper open and pop the wafer in my mouth and wait. Hmmm, feels granular as it begins to dissolve in my mouth, then tingly, but absolutely no taste. Very disappointing. 

Then it hits me, “Can I smell?”

Grabbing a jar of Vicks VapoRub, I unscrew the cap, lift the lid off and stick my nose into the container then sucked in a big breath thru my nose. 

VapoRub has a strong smell to it, normally, yes. If I was actually able to smell the rub, then yes, it should have a nice strong aroma. But, NO, NOTHING!

I’m now like a bad parlor trick.

I begin to think about the effect this will have in day to day life. My heart breaks ever so slightly when I realize I will not be able to taste coffee.This is very disturbing to me. One of the best things about mornings is the beautiful aroma of coffee, second best to the lovely bold taste of that liquid that was made by the gods. I can only take solace in knowing I can get a pick me up when I have a cup in the future.

Day 6 of quarantine

Got to leave the curtains closed! 

Can barely open my eyes without experiencing stabbing pain in the front of my head. 

If only I could simply alleviate the pain by taking a drill to my forehead to create an opening to relieve the pressure. The pressure in my head convinces me that my brains have swollen two sizes too large for my skull. 

Don’t turn on the lights! That would be a laser beam of death to my achy head.

Can’t write, I’m dying under my bed covers.

Quarantine day 7

Drank a cup of hot water this morning. No, not really, but my son made me a cup of coffee and that was the immersive experience from drinking a hot cup of coffee without the ability to smell or taste.

I really hope these two senses don’t ellude me for too long.

Had a sore muscle in my back so I rubbed some Tiger Balm on my back. For those of you who have not had the joy of experiencing Tiger Balm the best way I can describe it to you would be that it is similar to Deep Heat lotion and Vicks Vaporub. The lotion heats up to penetrate deep into muscle with a strong aroma like Vick’s. 

Well, I got distracted by something shiny and turned my attention elsewhere leaving  the Tiger Balm wide open. Found one of my kittens batting at the jar with their paw as though it were a great enemy needing to be attacked. Poor kitty, the smell must be horrendous for her innocent little nose. Hopefully, I can remember in the future to say her before she is tormented by wretched smells.

As they say, the struggle is real

Finding a muse, where is it? Thousand words be damned.

This is essentially a continuation of on thousand words, only there has been a great battle between mind, soul, and pen. 

In my first post, I made the claim I would work off of writing prompts to get my writing sparked. I have also mentioned about writing a thousand words in a sitting. 

Sigh…some things are immensely easy to put into writing: such as, I will write one thousand words in a sitting or any other recommendations I have read from books or websites on writing. 

Then, there is the introverted side who is not a yacker in everyday life. The introvert steps in and says, “Really? One thousand words?” The writer inside demands, yes, one thousand words, you talk in your head all day long (not schizophrenic), but it’s the inner voice and drives to write. 

“Free the writer!” demands the inner voice. 

My day job involves me asking people plenty of questions. Sometimes the questions asked can be intimate and personal. I hear various life stories from many walks of life. 

My daily life is that of a nurse, so that can be intimate discussions with patients and family regarding end of life plans and decisions. There have been times where I have just sat with a patient while they vented frustration and anger over dying. They don’t want to leave the people they love behind. 

It can be gut-wrenching to listen to a person tell you that they thought they were ready to die only to change their mind and tell me their disease was progressing to fast. I have been told the changes and deterioration of their body happened much faster than they expected; now that death is imminent, they are frightened.  

Some feel guilty about being afraid. The dying don’t want to burden their loved ones with the vast array of emotions they experience when facing death.

These conversations make me appreciate the little things in my life, and I am thankful for these people who have shared their thoughts and fears. It’s these conversations that also drain me of energy because they are mentally and physically draining.

Being introverted in the above situations allows me to sit and listen while they sob with long streaks of tears down their shallow cheeks that they don’t want to leave their spouse, children, siblings, and or parents behind. 

In these scenarios, I am left with my heart physically aching in my chest, holding my breath and speechless. There is nothing that can be done to dampen their anxieties and fears.

It is the patient and only the patient experiencing the solitary journey toward death. Many may try to argue that the family is on the journey with the patient, but I have to argue back that it is solely the patient who is completing the journey.

Well, that unexpectedly took a turn to the dark side quickly.

Even as I recall and write about these dying conversations I am emotionally drained. That is why I say one thousand words be damned. 

Sometimes pithy is just right. 

Eye rolls and frustration

Well today was interesting, dull and time consuming. I recently, in fact yesterday, switched internet companies because the one I had kept jacking up the price. Also, horrible customer service would be an understatement.

So, I switched companies.

At half the cost it was a no brainer.

So I signed up with a new company at half the cost, no contract, all the bells and whistle‘s.

Yesterday a technician came for the installation while I was at work. My daughter was at home so she was able to allow him access to perform the installation.

So, today, I canceled the other Internet company; they shut down the Internet and when they do I discover my new installation was only Wi-Fi from my house Internet hub. There is absolutely no hard connection. My entire house is cat 5 wired it’s fairly new and not one of the jacks works. To make matters worse, I ordered phone service, yet the phone lines do not work. I was messing around with my lighting hub and thermostat hub all day until finally I clued in and thought I should try and see if my laptop will plug-in to the connection in the wall. My laptop wouldn’t get connection to the Internet through a straight cable connection. I thought maybe it was just that specific plug, so I moved to a new location; that didn’t work either, so I moved it to a third location. None of them worked! When I called up the company they tell me I will have to be charged $85 to have a new technician come in and fix what the incompetent technician did not complete. I’m not going to pay $85 for somebody else’s laziness and lack of ability to do their job. I’m not wrong here am I?

Hello world!

Well, hello! 

Here it goes. Baby blogger here. So please be kind. I know that there are all sorts of blogs out there to follow. Take it or leave it, I’m here to exercise……my writing—no cardio, weights, or yoga on this page.

I first started writing by journaling when I was a pipsqueak and believed the stupid little lock on my red diary would actually keep people out. HA. The joke was on me. Those fake locks wouldn’t keep a cat from opening the book. If the previous sentences didn’t, clue you in….my diary was opened and read by someone, I will not name, but let’s just say that it birthed some trust issues. 

I love writing. I can pore my brain out onto the pages.

Take two:

Journalling as an adult……

ah yes, the old saying- fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. Yes, embarrassing as it is to admit it, a second person, and supposedly someone who should be trusted, yes, read my private journal. Gasp!*** Would rather be seen naked in the grocery store.

It was a journal for feelings and expression. Good gravy and meatballs! I expressed opinions that I typically suppress. Journaling was meant to be a safe zone for gushing out frustration or unspoken thoughts.

Thoughts be broken. 

Anyway, here is where I come to write. 

This blog will be for writing, not a journal. Writing is a passion, hobby, and therapy wrapped up into one. Not my only hobby, but this is the one I choose to blog. 

Blog, blog, blog. Saying it out loud three times fast sounds like a drowning frog.

The plan is to purchase a prompt writing book or use a prompt from somewhere and write the first things that come to mind in five minutes. gaaaaa, I may cheat a bit end up going longer than five minutes, but I’m in charge, so that’s ok.

I challenge myself to at minimum 3 times a week. I could make it a daily challenge, but I could easily get caught up in the rut of being disguised with myself if the goal is not met. That would snowball into shame hiding and not continuing, and WHY would I risk torturing myself? Nope, the challenge is 3 times a week.

You are more than welcome to follow along.

Now to find my props… um prompts