My Anxiety Saved Others from COVID-19
Trust Yourself
A week before getting vaccinated, my two-year-old son and I got COVID-19.
On Easter, my brother, my son, and I all became infected with COVID-19. It’s been a little over a month, and we are finally feeling recovered. This is a true story about how my anxiety, and motherly intuition, led to our diagnosis and how it prevented the infection of countless others.
When we first became infected, I thought we had allergies. We had been strolling through Fairmount Park in Philly all week, taking advantage of the thousands of brilliant cherry blossoms in bloom. We had runny noses, and I had a headache, symptoms typical of seasonal allergies that I get every year.
I mentioned it to my husband, and he brushed me off, saying he was sure it was allergies. My dad gets allergies and expressed the same sentiment.
A few friends gently teased me about my concerns because I’ve gotten five COVID-19 tests to date. Everyone always thinks of me as the “anxiety person.” They often take me with a grain of salt. I don’t blame them; I’m a chronic over-thinker, I’m a Virgo, after all.
Despite our symptoms seeming like clear signs of allergies, I got a COVID-19 test as a precaution. It was a rapid test, and its results were wrong. Everyone’s responses were similar. “Okay, Erica,” they said. “The results are negative. You can calm down now; it’s just allergies.”
I wasn’t satisfied. I knew in my gut that something was wrong. Why are we, as women and mothers, so hesitant to listen to ourselves and our bodies? I think that society has made us this way because men so often dismiss us.
Because I already had a COVID test done and it was negative, I had trouble getting another one, so we requested a test for my two-year-old son. A few people made me feel bad about this decision because of the discomfort involved. But had I listened to others and not my anxiety-ridden gut, I would’ve never known that my son and I had become infected with COVID-19.
There seems to be hesitation among parents of babies and young children to get them tested for COVID-19 because of the discomfort they think their children will experience.
My son’s test was quick, and he was asleep in the car when they swabbed him. He woke up at the end of the process, confused, with a smiling nurse from the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia saying, “All done, you’re such a brave boy.” I am confident it didn’t cause him pain or trauma.
While we were waiting, an employee at the testing site told me they only had a few positive tests the previous day, out of hundreds of people, and tried to assure me that my little guy was most likely fine. But I knew. Sometimes a mother knows in her heart and her gut.
Sure enough, my little guy’s test results came back in less than twelve hours, and they were positive. I am so grateful to have access to such an incredible hospital nearby where we got accurate and fast results. Others are not been so lucky.
My worst fear had come true. What I hold most precious in this world had contracted the virus we’d spent over a year fearing and trying everything to avoid.
For the past year, I kept him out of daycare to the detriment of my career and sanity. I wiped our door handles and light switches every night with Clorox wipes. I was a hand sanitizer lunatic. I did all the things.
But, on Easter, I let my guard down and saw family and friends. It seemed like the end was near; people were getting vaccinated; everything was opening up. Going to one family holiday and seeing two friends was surely fine… until it wasn’t.
And it was bad. It was an excruciatingly terrible month. It was physically painful; I was tired; I lost my taste and smell. My son and I burned with fever, vomited, and experienced it all thoroughly. Thankfully my husband was vaccinated and was able to play with my son so I could get some sleep. There was nothing easy or painless about that dreadful month.
But do you know what would have been worse? Knowing that we had infected dozens of other innocent people because I didn’t advocate for testing and trust my intuition.
How many other people would we have infected if I hadn’t trusted myself?
It’s impossible to know, but the numbers are staggering to ponder. We came into contact with someone who had the virus on Saturday, April 3. It wasn’t until the following Friday that our condition moved beyond feeling like a mild case of allergies.
Below is a summary of one week in our typical life to highlight the severity of waiting. We are careful and follow the rules to the best of our ability. But even so, these are the people we had a likelihood of infecting if we had continued to go out in public for even one more week.
First, we spent Easter at my mother’s house. My brother also stayed there. They both got tested right away, and my brother was infected. Due to his infection, my mom stayed home from work.
She’s currently working at a salon and spa. On an average day, my mother has five clients, and there are usually at least fifteen employees in the salon at a time.
We had finally enrolled my son in school on March 1, about a month before we contracted COVID-19. Had we not had this test done, my son would’ve gone to school. That would have meant exposing the woman who checks all the children in, nine toddlers in his class, his two teachers (who are also mothers), and the woman who checks him out.
Every day after school, we head to the playground, where there are usually at least five to ten families playing. Most likely, he would’ve come closer than six feet away from at least a few children on the playground.
My son is two. He doesn’t always wear a mask at the playground. For those who look at me and find me irresponsible, I encourage you to get a mask to stay on a two-year-old boy who barely agrees to wear a hat (or his pants, for that matter).
Two mornings a week, on days off from school, we head to our favorite juice bar for breakfast. We would have risked infecting their employees.
On Saturday mornings, our son goes to swimming class with our pod consisting of two other families.
On Sundays or Mondays, we typically hang out with our pod, consisting of the same two other families.
It’s mind-blowing to think about the number of people we saved from infection by staying home that week.
Thank god my anxiety told me to keep pushing for tests. My anxiety has always felt like a burden, but being extra cautious saved numerous others from contracting COVID-19.
I guess my anxiety is both a burden and a blessing.
Is it possible to start reframing our minds to see our anxiety as a blessing instead of a burden? Perhaps we need to work harder to feel our feelings instead of trying to block them out. Sometimes we are experiencing them intensely for a reason.
My heart goes out to everyone who has contracted this deadly virus, lost a loved one, or has experienced suffering during this tragedy. If this experience has taught me anything, it has taught me to trust myself and my body.
