Sep 24

 A bunch of articles and stuff on long covid has been finding me of late. Yesterday I read a long article about it that focused on the brain fog associated with it. That again, the science behind it is unequivocably proven - brain shrinkage, inflammation, fucksyouproper, but also the anecdotal stories of individuals and their experiences living through it.

One of them explained what she called the "So, yeah", syndrome, where she would get half way through a sentence, lose track of what she was saying and just say, So yeah. Frequently.

My brain fog is for the most part gone. But I can remember what it was like, and their accounts are very familiar.

The time when I would sit with Hazel and not really be able to keep up with her conversation. You'd have to concentrate. And by the time some kind of words had formed to say something, the moment was long gone. Like living somewhere with an enormous time lag in communications. The same thing on the TV. Watching a quiz show. Keeping up was weird, slow, treacley. They would be ahead on the next question, I would be processing the first. And sometimes. All of it just unhitched. A stream of words with no meaning. 

Blah blah blah blah, blah blah, blah ?

What ? I would say to Hazel. 

This happened quite a bit. I would slowly respond. What ?

This is so different to my "normal". Usually I am hearing what you are saying, even if I don't look like it. Sometimes I am even tracking two conversations at once in depth if I find something interesting going on nearby ( or scanning multiple conversations ). And I am pretty much always aware of everything around me, movements, little things, where people are, their intentions. Hypervigilance they call it. I have learned to mask it, and *pretend* I am normal and don't notice things, and feign surprise. And also learned way early on NOT to suddenly jump conversation and startle someone by entering into theirs they had no clue I was in on. So. I pretend I don't know. Usually bullshit. I am aware of where you are, what you're saying. And if you are approaching and quite possibly what you're going to ask. As a further aside, I think this is one of the problems I had with contact lenses. They robbed me of peripheral vision. They narrowed my world down to a degree that really upset my hypervigilance.

Anyway. The fog.

And then of course the complete unhitching with the fog. Where I could not stop staring. Just. Everything a blur. Focused unblinking unable to tear myself off it. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Time would jump. Suddenly evening.

Also the word drops. The inability to form a coherent sentence. That truly scary time where I could not say anything but um. Hazel was asking me things. I could not keep up to form a reply. So all that came out was um. And once that came out. I got stuck on it. Just repeating um. My brains form of an engaged tone on a telephone. Beep, beep, beep. Please wait. But for me. Unable to break out of that loop. Stuck. Aware I could not get another thought in my head. No control. Big yikes. Fear. Panic. Scary shit. All that ended up doing. Was making me say um faster. And more upset. Breaking into tears whilst saying um repeatedly.

In the end Hazel told me to stop. Just breathe.

It sounds unreal now. Feels unreal. Like a story you hear.

Except. I can remember it clearly. I can remember how that felt.

I can also remember that for quite a while I had to consciously stop myself falling into loops. That I had to make an effort to steer clear of shit. Discipline. Until at some point, it all once again just became automatic. I didn't have to think about thinking. I didn't have to think about not getting caught in traps.

And also the "visual lag" I had. Swish your head. And your eyes would be.. a fraction of a second off. Behind. So odd. But aware that the "display" was not quite realtime.

It's still in there. All of it. I couldn't exactly tell you how that works. But it's still there. Sometimes I can feel it grumble around my head. You get a bit laggy. It's often accompanied by a headache. Or a migraine. But sometimes not.

So much else of the anecdotal stories rings true to me as well. The programmer who suddenly got tinnitus that hasnt shifted in 2 years. Ah, yeah, got that one. The dizziness. The tingles in the limbs. The exhaustion.

All of it rings true.

Mmm. Anywho.

Touch wood, my worst days are now behind me. But. I suspect. I will always have this as a scar now. Baggage. Marks on my passport. I think that's the message. All of this stuff fucks you up permanently. How badly is variable. But like a burn that leaves a scar, or a broken hip that leaves you with a limp, the virals that attack you leave an imprint of their visit, one that you then have to live with for the rest of your life.

Went swimming yesterday. Struggled to get into putting some distance in, but by the end of it, cranked out 850m. Felt better afterwards.

In the evening visited a friend I hadn't properly seen in a year. He made food. We played a game. Good stuff. He's a former chef. So he cooks pretty damn good.

Lamb, rice, roasted nuts, vegetables, a bunch of spices. Finished with pomegranate seed and some kinda cream. It was amazing.

Allergies are kicking up again today. Meh. But it's definitely the house. Or the environs of the house. Outside of it, I clear up.

Gonna take another run at general tidying up and hoovering today. And I definitely need to buy food. But eh. The will is borderline.