Coronadrama

The car I'm driving broke down, so I spent a couple of days with my aunt and uncle who own the car. It's the first time I've seen them in a year. We got the car straightened out, and it is thankfully running again.

This was on the 3rd.

I received a text from my brother last night, the 5th, that my aunt was diagnosed with COVID. It turns out, she and her sister and cousins decided to get together and hang out at the flea market a few days ago.

Of all of the places to go during a rising pandemic...THE WALL TO WALL PEOPLE, GIANT ASS FLEA MARKET.

They're in their 70s. I hope they'll be ok.

But I am also incredibly pissed off at them. I got in my aunt's car on the 3rd, not knowing that just a couple of days prior, she and her relatives were all in there with fucking Corona. The kicker is that they can accept treatment because they don't have my rare disease, but if I take steroids or antibiotics or antivirals or a large number of other medications, I can die right then and there. That's the nature of my neuromuscular disease. Anything that inhibits neuromuscular transmission and drops my potassium level is deadly to me. So if I get COVID, it's a death sentence. Even Periodic Paralysis Association made it clear to members that we must avoid it at all costs, because we are especially doomed if we get it.

Thanks a whole damn lot.

I don't have symptoms at this time, thankfully. I'll carry on with life inside my apartment over the weekend, and if I feel any change for the worse at all, I will go to the closest curbside testing location to get swabbed.

I already had to get tested in September after using the restroom belonging to someone who was diagnosed with COVID three days later. I had not intended to enter their home (was dropping something off) but had a digestive emergency. That was a stressful week.

And now this. I truly cannot trust anyone. I'm isolating again until further notice, and will be spending the Holidays alone.