Covid ate my summer this year. Luckily, I didn’t catch it till mid-July, when my kids’ exams were finished. The actual illness was unpleasant though not as bad as others described, but then I just didn’t get better. For weeks and weeks I had zero energy. Doing one small thing – putting the kettle on, getting dressed, emptying the dishwasher – left me exhausted and needing to rest for hours. The worst part was the brain fog. Some days I couldn’t really speak. I tried to work, but my brain just wouldn’t do it. However, for a few hours a day, I could manage to re-read. So that’s what I did.
The collie being sweet when I was ill… her other technique was throwing sticks at me to cheer me up, as that is what makes her happy!
It seemed my brain couldn’t manage anything new, but it welcomed the familiar patterns of books I already knew and loved. I re-read favourite series, sometimes for the third or fourth time. I re-read Robin Hobb’s epic fantasy series; I dived back into Eva Ibbotson’s glorious historical romances; I gulped down Val McDermid series after series, glad to know everything would be solved by her resourceful heroines.
As the weeks passed and I still couldn’t get up, I suddenly remembered what the whole experience reminded me of: when I was eight years old, I had glandular fever and missed six weeks of school. Most of the time I was in bed, and my mum brought me library books. Some of her friends gave me brand new books – and that was a novelty at this time in my life – and by the time I was well again, I was totally hooked on reading.
This year, although the re-reading was a total lifeline, my mental health took a real dip early August when I wasn’t seeing any improvement after weeks in bed. Then I read a report that explored a link between covid and Epstein-Barr (the virus that causes glandular fever). Once I read that, I remembered I had recovered from glandular fever after about six weeks. I clutched at the hope the same timeline would work now.
I can’t comment on the scientific validity of this link, but just having a frame to hang the whole experience on really helped my state of mind. I decided to keep resting, keep re-reading, and try to be patient. And yes, I’d like to acknowledge the privilege I experienced as an able-bodied well person between these illnesses, also the privilege of having family members caring for me both times I was ill, and I have such respect for anyone who has had long covid lasting months – even weeks was challenging enough for me.
So I threw myself back into re-reading, and slowly, slowly I started to feel better. Two months after catching covid, I managed to go for a walk on my birthday. I’ve started a new part-time job. And today, four months on, I went for a very short run with the collie. I’m reading new books again, but definitely taking note of which ones might get added to my ‘favourite books’ shelf for any future re-reading that may be necessary.
