gemini://gem.lizsugar.me/2021/02/03/covid-19-stole-my-body-from-me.gmi

Today I got groceries. I live directly across from the store, only a small two lane road in-between. I purchased a standard amount of groceries typical of my trips, just four bags – though the Bay Area prices have me feeling like I bought six or seven bags – and for my efforts I have been bedridden for the past seven hours.

The day started with a minor migraine, much milder than the ones I frequently got years ago. I got up, took care of the cats, checked in with my mental health community and performed some moderation activities, said words at our roommate, and slowly got dressed. It was a relaxed morning before I went to complete this errand. The difference in the way I feel from before to after is still hard for me to comprehend. The only heavy items I purchased were an eight pack of canned sparkling water and a gallon of milk. While it is true that estrogen has decreased my natural muscle strength, the weakness and fatigue cannot be blamed on my transition. I have been transitioning for two and a half years and I had the ability to carry more weight over greater distances just nine months ago. When I was living in Chicago pre-pandemic, my trips to the grocery were much further away so I typically stocked up on a lot more. I of course found myself tired after them and had to take a breather for fifteen to thirty minutes, but that's a far cry from being out of commission for nearly a third of the day. Even right now as I type this my brain is struggling to put words together and my fingers are shaking trying to line up with the keys properly. My thoughts are slow and thick, like wading through mud. My arms want to slide off the desk and go limp in my lap. I am leaning spine-bendingly to the right against the arm of the chair because I simply cannot sit up straight under my own power. I should go back to bed, and I am going to regret spending the effort writing this, but right now I am filled with so much anger about what was taken from me that I need to explain it.

I'm going to regret this anger too. My fatigue isn't just triggered by physical activity, no that would be too easy. I could plan around that. Emotional stress and extended mental effort can drag me down just as severely. Job searching is already hellish, but it's a whole new kind of torture when just a few hours of touching up your resume, setting up profiles on websites, and coming up with cover letters wears you out so much that you can't lift yourself off the couch. I used to be able to count on destressing in the evening with a beer or a mixed drink, but even alcohol triggers my fatigue now. Yogurt and granola for breakfast? Can't get my hopes up because even yogurt has a chance of triggering it. Learning all new limits and dietary restrictions has been so emotionally taxing that, well, I'm sure you can guess. I feel so weak and broken. I feel far older than my actual age. I have to climb stairs at about an eighth of the speed I used to. I have to be slow and deliberate, I have to plan my movements and activities. I knew transition would change the way I faced the world. I could prepare for that. I had no idea about the post-covid fatigue and how it would change everything for me. Look I'm honestly trying not to scare anyone, but I'd really like to drive the point home here: I can no longer have sex. It does not matter how vigorous or tender, how long or short it is, the act of orgasming leaves me in some of the worst fatigue I've ever experienced. A quick five minute masturbation session is often just as bad.

When I recovered from my infection I was doing well. I was lucky that my actual fight with the infection was incredibly mild. My time with it though overlapped with my partner's. We were on opposite ends of the city at the precise moment her illness was confirmed, and so we had to quarantine from each other. She came down with it before I did and she refused to get me sick. Ultimately I ended up with it anyway. Mine lasted about two or three weeks. Hers was almost five. I know her death wishes. I know the password to her phone. What I didn't know was whether she would make it to the next day. We were on video chat almost constantly. She slept a lot, as much as she could. Our longest single call ended up being just over 50 hours. I fell asleep watching her almost every night. Opening my eyes to the morning sun and an active call was reassuring, but technology falters and I often woke up to disconnection or an overheated laptop. Calls would disconnect at any point during the day. How was I supposed to perform my work duties like this? How was I supposed to set up device management software or troubleshoot ISP issues when my girlfriend was in Schrödinger's box and I had no control over when I could peak inside? This was a trial that no two month old relationship should ever have to deal with.

But we recovered, and we had energy again. The fatigue of the infection was gone and we were capable women again. We moved her into my apartment with minimal issue. We moved my old loveseat from the third floor down to the alley and the major struggle was that the dimensions of the couch did not quite agree with the dimensions of the stairway. I could go on walks again and later on I helped her move across the country. But as the summer went on my ability came and went before it just became a steady decline heading into autumn. Mere ten minute walks destroyed me. The stairs to our third floor walk up apartment were too much. Sweeping or vacuuming or doing the dishes were often just completely out of the question. I spent a lot of time crying about how hard everything was, which of course landed me in even more fatigue episodes.

I still do spend a lot of time crying about it, actually. It's been almost a year since my infection with COVID-19 and I'm far worse than when I had it. It feels like I don't know how to live anymore. I was in the process of reclaiming my body, making it my own. Transition gave me a reason to enjoy my physical self and COVID-19 ripped that way from me.

COVID-19 Stole My Body From Me