On the Mend

Well, concerned reader, I have good news for you: I'm on the mend. After 11 days of fever, I've now had a fairly normal body temperature for over 48 hours; string it out another 24 and the CDC says I'm allowed to leave the house! That'll be a treat!

However it's been a long road to get to this point. I felt like I took a turn for the worse last weekend, with my breathing getting a bit more laboured. Apparently it's fairly common for COVID to have a second phase like this, and this is the point at which you can get seriously ill. Fortunately, that didn't happen, but I was concerned enough to try to talk to a doctor on Monday.

Our UK readers will be familiar with the NHS. Our US readers, of which I know there are a couple, probably aren't familiar with just how good the NHS is, as it tends to be painted as this creaking, dilapidated system. If I want to see a doctor in the NHS, I phone up the local surgery I'm registered with, I get an appointment, and I go. And it's free at the point of delivery. Yes, sometimes it's a bit hard to get an appointment at a reasonable time, but if you're an emergency you can generally get seen in 24 hours. If necessary they'll refer you to someone else. Things tend to work. It is an integrated system. Yes, it creaks, it loses things, there are delays, but it is intended to work together to care for people.

Here in the US, there simply is no system to speak of. You want to talk to a doctor? To do that you need to go through the web site of your insurance company and choose a doctor to phone. Obviously you've no idea which one to actually choose. But hey, you can do online appointments, that must be cool right? Well, here was my experience booking one of those:

1. Via my insurer's website, click on the thing which offers online appointments. This redirects me to a different website of a different company, where I need to register again.

2. Go through a questionnaire, provide your insurance details. The website then says "We can't verify your insurance details; you'll have to pay $59 for an appointment".

3. This can't be right, I think; so I phone the insurers.

4. I'm on hold for 10 minutes then get cut off.

5. Phone them again. On hold for 10 minutes again.

6. Get told the online appointment is covered by my insurance, so I need to talk to the online appointments company if their system isn't registering this.

7. Phone the online appointments company; on hold for 10 minutes, then get cut off.

8. Phone them again. Get put through to someone who admits that their system for checking insurance status is down and I'll have to pay the $59 and claim it back later.

9. Give up and pay the $59.

Eventually I got my 3 minute consultation with a doctor, who agreed that I probably had COVID and should get tested. He issues me with a chit which refers me for a test, but of course doesn't tell me where to go or how I should book such a thing. This was easily worth $19.67 per minute.

The NHS is really, really good. Maybe if you're born in the US the healthcare provision (I'm not going to use the word system) here seems reasonable. To me it seems like it's a collection of independent entities, none of which talk to each other, which are at best bewildering and difficult to navigate.

So anyway, we looked at the Santa Clara County website and chose our COVID testing site. We decided to go first thing on Tuesday morning. I dosed myself up on Ibuprofen so I felt fine to drive, and we conveyed ourselves down to 2450 Garcia in Mountain View (a sports field just behind the main Google campus) where they're doing drive-thru tests.

We arrived just after 9. We weren't the first in the queue (they open at 9), and there was quickly a long queue of cars behind us. This site is open to anyone, with no referral needed, and there aren't many of those around. We filled in some forms, then inched the car forwards. The next person photographed our insurance details and photo ID with an iPad which was reassuringly labelled "CAMILLE COVID" on the back. Before long, we were at the front of the queue and waiting for our tests.

Helen goes first. It’s the nasopharyngeal swab: straight into the nose to the back of the throat. Our healthcare professional, Camille (OK, so it's her iPad then), has clearly done this before and doesn’t give you time to think about what’s happening. Helen lets out a quick squeal of surprise and whilst not awful, it’s clearly a little unpleasant. It’s in there a long time - 15 seconds, which Camille counts down. Then it’s my turn.

I’m not as brave as Helen and for a while I’m convinced I won’t be able to do it. Camille’s no-nonsense approach puts paid to any danger of that, however. Before I know it, my throat is stinging a bit and she’s counting to 15. Then it’s over and we can go.

We're still awaiting our test results.

By Wednesday evening my temperature was starting to drop, and by Thursday morning it was at relatively normal levels. I started to feel like a human again, and my appetite for food returned. I'd had a fever for 11 days solid and to feel better all of a sudden was a huge relief.

How do I know my temperature was dropping? Well, I upgraded to a thermometer that's actually supposed to be used on humans:

And for the record, to some extent at least I'm still breathing:

Perhaps the most exciting thing I've done this week, other than having Camille stuff a swizzle stick up my nose, was to dye Helen's hair purple! Before I got ill, we picked up a much more vivid hair colour product which was recommended to us by the kids next door (yes, really).

Now the problem with a vivid purple hair dye is that you're not just dyeing the hair purple; you're dyeing your hands, Helen's ears, the bath, various kitchen cabinets, Helen's hairbrush, possibly Helen's pillow, and who knows what else, purple. This is a thing we're not going to forget in a hurry.

The results have a bit of the Goth Doc about them; obviously I'm now calling her Obsidian Blackbird McNight.

So there we have it; I'm on my way to recovery, but it's been a long process so far and I don't want to rush it. My purple-haired companion remains steadfastly healthy and is looking forward to being able to leave the house again. Until next time!