After over a year of avoiding the virus, it has finally shown up at my front door.
After a week of quarantine, a week back to “normal” life, COVID-19 has made its way back to me.
After spending the weekend at home, unfortunately, a positive test followed me back to school.
Chaos ensued as the trainer got a call during practice. The brakes were locked up and practice came to a screeching halt. So, we did what we always do at the end of practice – ball hunt.
While searching the outskirts of the field for lacrosse balls, I hear our trainer, Ed, call my name. Combined with profanity and an attitude, I say “No. Are you kidding me?”
This was a serious question.
How could I have tested positive? Leaving practice alone, it was a long, frustrating walk back to the locker room. The throwing of gear and the continuing use of profanity highlighted my mood.
After having nearly two weeks off at this point, the team would have to wait another week before we could start up conference play. For me, the scramble was on. I walked back to the dorm to pack up all my things. I made a call to my dad, the school, my coach, and everyone involved.
The decision to go home was made because I couldn’t do another 10 days in the quarantine dorms. The seemingly endless two-hour trek home started just after 10:30.
Music blaring, emotionless, window cracked, just thinking.
How did this happen? No one around me has it. Yet here I am, driving home in the dark with the road to myself. Normally I wouldn’t have an issue with this but under the circumstance, I was pissed.
That night, I realized I definitely had the virus. The worst chills I’ve ever had made sleeping miserable. The next day, luckily was my day off from classes. Typically a nice break from classes in the middle of the week provided for a great rest day. I was only awake for a handful of hours, but my bed made a great place to spend the day.
It was way better than a college bed. The next few days will be interesting, but I’m just thankful no one else around me has it.