I tried really hard for almost two years to avoid having the thoughts and worries I do now.

You may be thinking, “but everyone is going to get it.” I’d reply with, we should not resign to that being the answer that we accept.

I thought I did everything right from March 2020 onward.

And maybe I’m disappointed in myself for letting my guard down.

But in writing this narrative, and subsequent plea, I’m finding a little more peace with myself, but also sadness for the rest of the world and the places I used to call home. Before March 2020, I worked in a high school and danced socially 5 out of 7 days a week. I attended a dance congress in Atlanta the weekend they found the first cases there. I joked for two weeks after about how I felt fine and made it out of the “window.” When Memphis shut down, we did take out, wore masks, sanitized, hunted everywhere for toilet paper. So much so that I started my own sociological experiment of going to Dollar Tree’s in not frequented neighborhoods hoping this was a white hysteria in Target, rather than actual America freaking out and doing the most selfish thing. But that’s all America turned out to be time and time again during this pandemic.

During our road trip to Boston and then Wisconsin, in June of that year, I was so adamant about not staying in hotels because at the time hotels did the amazing thing of offering rooms to first responders. But so much wasn’t known, and I didn’t want to chance it. So we “car camped” at rest stops, much to H’s discomfort.

Bless his heart.

The fall brought conversations about bringing kids back into the classroom. While some places were, Memphis held out. I was disgusted when we had to come back, as cases had begun to climb. Finishing the year, getting ready to go abroad, it was somewhat promising that Togo had remained low on the State Departments alert system for covid. However it was also concerning because there is barely a health infrastructure here.

It was a false sense of complacency.

In the beginning, I didn’t really want to wear a mask. That’s before it really rocked the US healthcare system the first time. In the interest of protecting not only myself, but the people I love, and also humanity, I put on the freaking mask and didn’t go anywhere without it.

In the beginning, I was nervous about the vaccine. I wanted time. The pandemic showed me there was no time. I got the vaccine. Twice and proudly boosted. #modernagang

My fertility is fine.

As by my lack of content, I don’t really leave the house. About once a week, I would go to breakfast or lunch with friends, or go shopping for groceries. I wear a mask, sanitize, try and stay distanced as it allows. About a week before Christmas, I let my guard down to go Salsa dancing here. It’s something I haven’t done in an extremely long time.

7 days went by, and I felt fine.

Cue the 23rd of December, I went to a holiday party. Stayed out till 4am. I was hungover and exhausted the next day, but felt fine.

Late night on Christmas, like we’re talking 11pm, I started to have a headache and a scratchy throat. I attributed it to be run down from lack of sleep, and then we had all the air conditioning on for guests, drying out the house. By 3am when I went to bed, I felt cold and off.

The next day my fever climbed to 102F. I told H that a fever is nothing, as I usually attribute it to allergies. It is the Harmattan here after all. However, the fact that it was 102F scared me, it meant my body was trying to fight off something foreign.

My anxiety was immediate, as always waiting in the shadow. We had been places, I had seen friends, vulnerable people. And yet here I was staring down the barrel of intense shame, not having confirmation yet, but knowing that it was only a matter of time. H didn’t immediately feel anything, then cue and trickle the symptoms around people we’ve been with.

My fever was gone by Monday afternoon, I went to the health unit and got Tylenol and cough drops. No test, but I treated my situation as if I was already positive. I didn’t leave, I rested and hydrated, I pulled out our remaining KN95s. Binged all 5 seasons of Chicago Med on Netflix.

I don’t feel bad anymore. I have a productive cough producing clear mucus. (Gross, I know, but I somewhat feel like maybe this info will help someone out there).

I still am worried about how many people I’ve come in contact with. I also wonder if people in the USA genuinely care anymore if “everyone probably has it”. I was messaging a good friend from back in the US discussing what in the world is happening over there, and they said “I want my child to be able to go places and do things. They’re so sheltered. I want to feel safe going places with a kid growing in me. I hate it here.”

I hate that for them and loved ones.

If you’re in the USA and you’re still reading, thank you. If you’re unvaccinated, please don’t waste any more time. If you want to talk about it, I’m willing to hear you out, human to human.

Cases have skyrocketed over here. If I needed a hospital, I wouldn’t get nearly the same care. But from what I’m reading, anyone in America isn’t really getting the care they need because that healthcare system is wrecked and exposed for what it is. Don’t play around anymore, the more this virus is allowed to fester and mutate, the smarter it gets.

Also, if you have it, or had it and are vaccinated, it’s not a thing you can just brush off for everyone. Be vigilant in your messaging for people to get vaccinated.

I’m in a place with not widely available vaccines, your position in this world geographically is a privilege. And having Covid here is tough. There is no Instacart, drive up groceries or Target, no Amazon to get anything to you same day or 2 days. Barely stocked pharmacies, the list goes on.

Your choice, is someone else’s need. Healthcare access is a privilege.

I’m recovering, and hoping no one I love gets this, even if it is a “mild” case. I’m worried about any lasting damage that we don’t know about yet.

There is still so much we don’t, and won’t know.

Stay safe, do all that you can to avoid getting this.

And please, hang in there.

Best,

Carrie