My Husband And I Got Different Covid Variants.

He got the male variant, I got the female variant.

Photo by CDC on Unsplash

My family dodged the Covid bullet for 2 1/2 years. We lived in a bubble for that time, hardly socializing and being over cautious thanks to my hypochondriac husband.

So it was no big surprise when we didn’t get infected. But in June we had to make a trip back home to visit our parents after 3 years.

We knew we would be exposed during the long travel while stranded in airports and on long flights. Not to forget the meetups with relatives. I was more worried about infecting our elderly parents than any of us getting Covid.

Thankfully no one fell sick.. that is until we boarded our return flight. My eldest son started a high fever and all the work. My husband followed suit. They both downed Tylenol and managed to sit through the long 13-hour flight.

Immigration, luggage pick up and the ride home took another 3 hours. We reached home Sunday night at 8 pm. My husband and son both tested positive. They took more medicine and went to sleep.

Thanks to jet lag I could hardly sleep that night even though I was tired. I was wiped out when I woke up in the morning but hesitant to take sick leave as I had just taken 3 weeks of leave and was still new at work.

Thankfully I was still working from home. I logged on and managed to make it through the day somehow.

My husband, more established in his job, didn’t have to worry about taking leave. He took off and slept the whole day waking up only to eat.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to feel the sniffles and fatigue coming on. But I had so many things to attend to. I had to make sure the kids had something to eat. I had frozen some meals before traveling. But I still had to cook the rice and do other kitchen work.

I managed to get a good 3 hour’s nap after work. When I woke up it was almost night. My sniffles had turned into a full-blown cold with mild fever. Again there was not much sleep that night because of jetlag. I spent most of the night watching Netflix and blowing my nose.

By the time it was morning, I was once again exhausted. My son had almost recovered now 2 days after his symptoms started. But adults are a different story. My husband still had a fever, a hoarse voice, and was tired. He took the second day off and rested.

My symptoms were mainly a cold, dry cough, and fever. It was a bit tiring as colds are but manageable in my experience, nothing to write home about. My husband, the hypochondriac on the other hand was crashing the Web MD servers.

His research informed him that I had to buy a lot of fruits to boost his immunity and avoid sweet or spicy food. The thermometer, oximeter, and steam healer became his holy trinity.

Fearing his symptoms would take a turn for the worse, he took an emergency video appointment with his doctor. I was sure he was going to ask for an epidural.

He didn’t like that the doctor was so unconcerned. He must have been the millionth, anxious Covid patient, she had talked to. Doctors can tell when a patient needs urgent care and when they should just wait it out at home.

In the end, she told him she could write him a prescription for Paxlovid, an antiviral if he wanted. That satisfied him.

Personally, I didn’t understand what the need for it was. He didn’t have any troubling symptoms nor was he in any high-risk category. He had been vaccinated and boosted. His symptoms would abate by themselves in a few days.

These medicines have side effects so I felt the risks outweighed the benefits. But he insisted he had to take it and started on it.

On day 3, he was better and started working from his bed. I had emptied 2 tissue boxes by day 3. But it was the lack of sleep that was getting to me. I was surviving on 2–3 hours of sleep a night.

After I finished work every day I had a lot of household stuff to attend to. The house was a mess. Our suitcases were all over the place in different stages of unpacking. There were no bed sheets on the beds. The laundry was piling. The fridge was empty. The kids were bored and needed attention.

I just did the bare minimum each day as needed. But even that took energy. I must credit my kids. I survived because they helped a lot.

My mood was also all down after leaving my aging sick parents. Not knowing if I would get to see them alive again was heavy on my mind. All my plants were dead which further depressed me. I was really feeling the blues.

I wanted to curl up into a ball and not do anything. But when you are a mom, you sometimes have no choice. You have to power through everything for your kids, while dad is on the couch under the blanket.

Whoever coined the term ‘Women, the weaker sex’ obviously never had a period.

By the end of the first week, all our symptoms started settling down. My jet lag slowly went away and my energy came back. I had survived the female Covid variant, where you are stuck doing all the work while your husband is stuck in bed resting with his male variant.

Wish there was a vaccine for that.

Why are men such babies when they are sick? Do they really experience every tiny symptom in such severity? Do the poor convalescing things just have low tolerance levels or are they just exaggerating it?

I don’t know the answer to that. But I know what I’m getting my husband for his birthday. — A ‘labor simulator machine’ without an epidural.





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Tina Viju

Tina Viju

Cancer geek I Lover of words & fried rice I Memory Keeper