2023 52 Card Project Week 51: Hibernal
Dec. 22nd, 2023 12:33 pmThe winter solstice, which took place this week on Thursday, December 21, is known as the 'hibernal solstice.'
That is also what I did this week because, as I noted in last week's entry, I caught Covid for the first time.
I've dreaded getting infected for the past three years, not just because, you know, it's a disease that has killed millions of people in a worldwide pandemic, but because I fretted how I would handle it, living alone. There was a worrisome event when I fainted in the middle of the night, and my home monitoring suggested my oxygen levels might be dropping too low. I reluctantly ended up going to the ER the next day (many thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
naomikritzer who drove me), but everything checked out fine and I was sent home again.
So I hibernated this week. I took my Paxlovid and tolerated it relatively well. I was quiet and lay in bed and concentrated on healing.
I thought about that juxtaposition, between the winter solstice, and getting Covid.
Throughout a not insignificant part of human history, this time of year was a time of fear. People lit fires and beat drums because they honestly feared that the sun might not come back. Later, perhaps, when there was knowledge that the sun would return, they might fear that food stores might not last enough to get them through the winter.
And when this epidemic first emerged, that was a time of fear, too. We were facing this strange mystery, this time of darkness, and who knew if we would safely emerge out the other side? When a person saw that positive test result, they knew they were in for it. How bad would it get? How sick would they get? Would they have to be hospitalized? Would they have to be intubated? Could they possibly emerge safely out the other side of that descent into uncertainty and danger and darkness, that brush with death?
I remember that I cried out of sheer joy and relief, the day I was vaccinated. I felt then that getting Covid now would not necessarily mean the end of everything.
The shortest day of the year is over, and we've lived through the longest night. I've lived through Covid and I’m going to be okay. Thank you to the people who dropped off care packages and checked up on me. Thank you to the people who invented and distributed the vaccine and the boosters that kept me safe.
I'm grateful to you all.
Image description: An image of a stone circle (Stone Henge) with the sun showing between two rocks, low in the sky. Overlaid over the sun: a plastic Covid test with a positive reading. Above the sun, arranged in a semi-circle: five Paxlovid packs. Lower left: a woman's face, masked (Peg). Lower right: several fingers of a woman's hand, the middle one with an oximeter affixed. The reading on the oximeter reads '90.'
Hibernal
Click here to see the 2023 52 Card Project gallery.
Click here to see the 2022 52 Card Project gallery.
Click here to see the 2021 52 Card Project gallery.
That is also what I did this week because, as I noted in last week's entry, I caught Covid for the first time.
I've dreaded getting infected for the past three years, not just because, you know, it's a disease that has killed millions of people in a worldwide pandemic, but because I fretted how I would handle it, living alone. There was a worrisome event when I fainted in the middle of the night, and my home monitoring suggested my oxygen levels might be dropping too low. I reluctantly ended up going to the ER the next day (many thanks to
naomikritzer who drove me), but everything checked out fine and I was sent home again.So I hibernated this week. I took my Paxlovid and tolerated it relatively well. I was quiet and lay in bed and concentrated on healing.
I thought about that juxtaposition, between the winter solstice, and getting Covid.
Throughout a not insignificant part of human history, this time of year was a time of fear. People lit fires and beat drums because they honestly feared that the sun might not come back. Later, perhaps, when there was knowledge that the sun would return, they might fear that food stores might not last enough to get them through the winter.
And when this epidemic first emerged, that was a time of fear, too. We were facing this strange mystery, this time of darkness, and who knew if we would safely emerge out the other side? When a person saw that positive test result, they knew they were in for it. How bad would it get? How sick would they get? Would they have to be hospitalized? Would they have to be intubated? Could they possibly emerge safely out the other side of that descent into uncertainty and danger and darkness, that brush with death?
I remember that I cried out of sheer joy and relief, the day I was vaccinated. I felt then that getting Covid now would not necessarily mean the end of everything.
The shortest day of the year is over, and we've lived through the longest night. I've lived through Covid and I’m going to be okay. Thank you to the people who dropped off care packages and checked up on me. Thank you to the people who invented and distributed the vaccine and the boosters that kept me safe.
I'm grateful to you all.
Image description: An image of a stone circle (Stone Henge) with the sun showing between two rocks, low in the sky. Overlaid over the sun: a plastic Covid test with a positive reading. Above the sun, arranged in a semi-circle: five Paxlovid packs. Lower left: a woman's face, masked (Peg). Lower right: several fingers of a woman's hand, the middle one with an oximeter affixed. The reading on the oximeter reads '90.'
Click here to see the 2023 52 Card Project gallery.
Click here to see the 2022 52 Card Project gallery.
Click here to see the 2021 52 Card Project gallery.
