Refried Confusion

I staggered into the lobby of the Glendale Express Hotel with a heartful of misery and Dr. John on the sound system.

It took me a few seconds to recognize the 1973 hit "Right Place, Wrong Time" and a few more days to realize that the song perfectly described my disasterous visit to Los Angeles.

I had been staying with my Uncle Joe and his wife for what was supposed to be a 10-day visit, but I was forced to scrub those plans and evacuate his home when what I thought was a sinfus infection turned out to be Covid-19.

Yes, after dodging this dreadful disease since 2020, the coronavirus finally caught up with me in sunny California.

I was feeling fine when I left--I'd never visit my family if I were sick, even with the common cold.

I met up with my West Coast cousins, I zoomed into my writing class, and I was all set to do some touristy stuff. I was feeling so good--except for a slightly scratchy throat which started on my fourth day.

The TV weather people said this wasn't unusual since the humidity was so low due to the Santa Ana winds. But then the coughing started and got worse and finally on Thursday I decided to take a covid test--just to rule it out.

Yeah, right.

I was shocked when I saw the results of the home test. I was in total denial and I walked over to a local outpatient place for a second opinion, convinced I couldn't possibly have Covid.

I had done everything right: I was up to date on my booster shots, I was still wearing masks in crowded areas. How could I have Covid?

But the clinic results were equally dismal. And the doctor giving me the bad news was taking no chances as she wore a mask and a faceshield.

"It's better to get this now than three years ago," she said.

Yeah, there's that, but I had to worry about infecting my 95-year-old uncle, his wife, my cousins and they're kids.

When I went to the drug store to pick up my prescription, the woman behind the counter said I had to leave because they didn't want the pharmacists getting infected.

They were all set to deliver my meds, but then my order was ready sooner than expected, so I was able to take it myself.

Brain Salad Surgery

As I turned to leave, the woman came out of her booth to disinfect the counter area where I had standing.

I realize this was necessary, and I would've done the same thing myself, but I kind of wish she had waited until I left the building.

Staying with my uncle was out of the question, of course, so I bailed to the hotel in Glendale, where I locked myself in my room and watched cable TV, which is what I do most weekends, only now I was paying a 150 bucks a night for the privilege.

Instead of meeting friends and relatives and seeing the sights, I was slipping, dodging, sneaking, creeping, hiding out down the street.

I tried to find something positive out of this experience, applying Tony Robbins' question "What's great about this problem?" but I was coming up dry.

It's good to be optimistic, but pretending you're happy when you're not is bad for your brain.

I guess on some level I just thought I would never get Covid, even though I know many people who have been infected. And my cousin in Arizona got Covid last year while vacationing in Ireland, which really sucks.

I was in Ireland last year with my niece and my sister and I thank God none of us got sick during that trip.

My auntie and my siblings called me several times to buck up my spirits, for which I am very thankful. And all my California people are okay, so at least I didn't get them sick.

But my vacation was wrecked and now I've got to go back to work even though I feel awful. I had a fever and heavy congestion Saturday night, a sign of Covid Rebound, which can happen to people who take Paxlovid, like yours truly.

Going to California was a good idea, but like Dr. John says, I was in the right place, but it must've been the wrong time.