Monday 04 March 2024
I had promised that my next blog was to be on the murder of the late Russian opposition leader Alexei Navalny. I promise; I still will finish writing that one, but I must explain why I can’t publish it this week. First and in part, teaching about Navalny in the college classroom is one thing; writing about him is another. His life and martyrdom pose complicated and deep questions, to which the answers aren’t easy or straightforward. Nonetheless, this delay with publishing my piece on Navalny isn’t causing writer’s block or any intellectual hesitation. Navalny is a worthy challenge to write about. I didn’t want to offer another, similar-sounding obituary or echo comparable and platitudinous acknowledgment of Navalny’s heroism. (Yes, I hear the late Steve’s voice in my ear, demanding more from me than just the typical outrage against Vladimir Putin or the expected support for the Russian political opposition.) No, something more intense and earnest—even private—is delaying the Navalny piece.
Fatigue.
On the Monday of Thanksgiving week, I became ill. COVID AND RSV. I lost my physical voice. I still had classes to teach. In my contagious condition, I couldn’t attend in-person. At the same time, I couldn’t cancel class because I needed to get my students ready for the Final Exam. I resorted to Zooming, but, instead of “talking,” I typed what I would have said in the chat window. Because I became sick from both viruses during Thanksgiving week, I thought I had time to recover; after all, it was Thanksgiving Break, and I had a full week to nurse myself. I didn’t. In fact, my symptoms worsened. My laryngitis became more severe. I couldn’t cancel classes. The semester was nearly over. I finished the semester Zooming; my students took over the teaching responsibilities as they spoke the lines on the slides and participated in the break-out (virtual) rooms.
Sleeping was almost impossible because the phlegm would obstruct my breathing. I choked; I couldn’t breathe. A terrifying experience! My throat clamped. I coughed violently to pry open my trachea. My blood pressure increased; the force of the blood squeezed me. My brain felt like it was being strangled. So helpless. I felt Death’s presence. I was scared. Coughing violently, I forced my breathing passages open. To me, the coughing was the sound of life. The prescribed medications had no effect. The doctors warned that if I continued to cough so vigorously, I would continue to damage my vocal cords, thus prolonging my laryngitis. The inflammation caused the laryngitis. Without coughing or clearing my throat, I couldn’t breathe. What was I to do?
Having gone through that ordeal of struggling to breathe normally, I now understand more poignantly what those COVID-19 first wave patients faced: the inability to breathe and choking out. If the deadly virus didn’t take them, and they still had the strength to fight, they needed Tracheal intubation to breathe. Of course, I wasn’t at that dire point in my health; however, the coughing sapped my energy. Certainly, the numerous prescribed medicines contributed to the fatigue, too. And when the excess phlegm choked me during the daylight hours, I felt there was no reprieve, not for a moment. Sleeplessness brought its own sense of tiredness. Those choking episodes caused me to cough, and when the choking episodes frequently became a problem, I fought to regain air by coughing. The coughing exacerbated the laryngitis.
Eventually, I regained my voice, but I still to this day momentarily lose it during classroom discussions. Over three months have passed since I tested positive for COVID and RSV, but I still wrestle with their symptoms. I have the so-called “Long COVID.” Long COVID is a condition in which long after recovering from COVID, the individual still experiences symptoms of the illness. Shortness of breath, intense fatigue, body aches, to name some of the manifestations, and these symptoms can last for months, even longer. Healthcare professionals recommend hydration, rest, sleep, exercise… all very unspecific, multi-applicable treatments for ANY illness. I would suggest adding frustration to the list of symptoms of long COVID because I am tired of being tired. Throughout the ordeal of having COVID and RSV, my main complaint—aside from the struggles to breathe—was fatigue. Simple, everyday chores tire me. Some days I can’t walk down the block while walking Laska, my dog. Other days I persevere but need an hour to recuperate. And the day has gone. In my mind, I accomplished little. And now I would suggest two more symptoms to the list for long COVID: resignation and guilt.
In my blog series on revision, I discussed the need to cultivate patience. Long COVID has strained mine. It, too, requires a recovery plan. As I am impatient to begin the revision work on my Katyn manuscript, I, too, am restless about working on the Navalny blog. My notebook is filled with ideas, but I need the strength to corral them. Writing about Navalny isn’t a topic I can just dash through. Navalny is too important. I must wait, and so you must, too.