I’ve spent practically a year and a half writing and reading about the coronavirus on a daily basis, and as a result — aware of its dangers — I’ve tried to dodge it anyway. For the first 12 months I practically didn’t leave home but in open and desolate parks, I left my kids in virtual school and gave up stepping on any enclosed space that wasn’t essential.
Despite all these efforts, during the Labor Day weekend the virus escaped to my home. I met my enemy face to face: I became part of the ‘unfortunate’ list of callers advanced infections: Those who are entrusted after complete vaccination.
I knew it was possible: data from Israel and the United States indicated that these vaccine infections were increasing with the delta variant. I had been vaccinated in March and was about to reach the six-month threshold when immunity to symptomatic disease is believed to be reduced.
I was anxiously waiting for it to arrive on September 20 when more people are expected to qualify for a reinforcement and in the meantime we redoubled the precautions at home, as cases in our community in the city of Houston, Texas, were rampant.
It wasn’t the only countdown it carried: far more important was the authorization of an emergency vaccine for children under 12, which was initially expected for September but has experienced delays.
With the return to classes in Texas without mandatory masks for everyone and with each new notification of my children’s ‘possible exposure’ in my inbox I knew the odds of us getting undefeated by that date didn’t play in their favor.
A screening by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) predicted that in nurseries with few mitigation measures like ours, the vast majority of students would become infected in the first three months.
A direct contact notification in the class of my eldest son who is in third grade turning on the alerts. I wanted to believe that maybe the KN95 mask I was wearing with it would serve as a shield, but as a precaution and responsibility (in Texas it’s not mandatory) I decided to leave it at home in quarantine.
And as vigilant as I thought I was during those days, perhaps out of evasion, I attributed the slight headache he initially complained to to having had a bad night and the little nasal congestion he had from allergies to having been in the garden. In the end, he was happy, feeding and playing like nothing. There was never a cough or fever.
I came to think we were safe when my husband, completely vaccinated since March, he complained of a cold and as a precaution decided to do a home test of these that we had already saved in anticipation of the worst.
I thought he was joking when he told me he had tested positive.
After more than 500 days of declaring the pandemic, the much feared coronavirus had reached us.
I immediately learned that my eldest son needed to be tested – clearly the ‘index case’ of our little family outbreak.
I had prepared myself logistically and mentally for that. “You know what to do,” I repeated once I overcame the paralysis in which in my mind I rewound every time I had helped my son brush his teeth or the snores of my husband who the night before would have kicked out who knows how many viral particles.
We could have surrendered then, which in retrospect would have eased the logistical and emotional burden that involved separating us all under one roof for several days.
But, with the negative home tests in my hands and that of my young son, we decided to try to avoid the inevitable: to separate as if this way we could erase all the transmission that had already happened in the presymptomatic phase of the disease.
We banish the infected upstairs. Luckily, we had room to do it.
Downstairs we were Lucas, my six-year-old son, the 2-year-old baby — whom I saw no need to do the awkward test for lack of symptoms — my sister who was staying with us and me.
I put together a kit for my husband to manage the symptoms, which is what is left in these cases: powder oximeter, painkillers, thermometers, handkerchiefs and decongestants.
He said he felt a “strong” cold, with muscle pain, a lot of fatigue and congestion.
I took the air purifier to the maximum on the ground floor and opened all the windows.
I ordered a home delivery market for two weeks closing.
The next step was to look for an appointment to test the PCR that is scarce in Houston due to the rise in infections. We only found one for three days.
“Walking in bars and public places”: the testimony of a young man vaccinated against coronavirus
I knew that home tests had a margin of error and with how difficult it had been to sample my six year old son in which nasal congestion is a constant due to his allergies, I didn’t rule out being positive.
The possibility became apparent on Saturday with a feeling of scratching that motivated me to repeat the home test which tested negative a second time.
For Sunday, day of the PCR, still without result to confirm it in hand, I had no doubt: I had covid-19.
It is said that the advanced infections or vaccinated infections are usually mild, but when it comes to you understand that the mild in medical terms falls short of the magnitude of the discomfort one, a vulgar patient, experiences.
Clinically mild means you don’t require a visit to an emergency room or hospital, but it doesn’t relieve you from feeling miserable.
When I got sick, I understood that my husband was not exaggerating when he spoke of extreme fatigue: this was far from the mild cold that I believed suffered by those who, like me, were completely vaccinated. Simple tasks like cooking or changing my daughter’s diaper suddenly seemed like grueling marathons. And asking for help is simply not an option when it involves exposing others to covid-19. Taking care of three children, even with the fortune that they present very very mild symptoms, then becomes a titanic task.
By the time I received the positive results from my PCR and Luke, and congestion I had gone through intense sinusitis with a headache. Then came the complete loss of smell and taste, something I had never experienced and also suffered from my sister, who having received her second dose of Pfizer a month after us did not shield her. of contagion.
His symptoms were exact to mine: fever relapse a couple of nights, congestion, extreme fatigue, and a total inability to distinguish the taste or aroma of any food.
It didn’t happen to my husband and he never lost his appetite, but his throat was very inflamed.
None of the three fully vaccinated adults we were at home (who also do not suffer from any condition that compromises our immune system) suffered from coughing or difficulty breathing, not even me who is asthmatic or my sister who is already close to 60, which clearly speaks of the effectiveness of vaccines to protect against the most important thing: severe illness and death.
Several analyzes of real-world data, such as a recent one released by the CDC in August from New York data, confirm that the protection of vaccines against hospitalization in the majority of the population is still around 95%. .
Here, regretting and unwell, the three adults at home were a living example of the importance of getting vaccinated.
Being vaccinated gave us the peace of mind of knowing that the odds of getting out of this well were in our favor.
I was getting to know each other face to face with the enemy from whom I fled anyway, but who ended up reaching out to me not to relax — I never did — but because the local authorities decided to virtually ignore the threat it posed.
My house suddenly became a large laboratory where I was able to check all these things that are said about presymptomatic transmission, the mildness of symptoms in most children, the effectiveness of vaccines that is reduced to prevent the symptomatic disease, but which remains intact to prevent further tragedies.
I have witnessed that, for most vaccinated people, even the much feared contagion can have a “happy” outcome — which doesn’t mean we shouldn’t continue to do everything in our power to avoid it. ho: believe me, getting sick of covid-19 is very nasty-.
We were all pretty much better after a week, although there is still a bit of tiredness left.
Covid-19 is already in the process of becoming endemic. It’s time to dump her and move on. But that our body knows how to recognize gives us a great advantage. That the vaccine has not protected me from getting sick does not make me less grateful to have it: better not to imagine how much worse everything would have been without it …