I first got sick in November 2020 – on Thanksgiving day in fact. It felt like I had the flu and my God, the nausea. I couldn’t help with the day’s meal preparation. You could find me either in my bed, on the couch, or in the bathroom.
Maybe I had food poisoning?
I was pretty sure it wasn’t covid because I wasn’t coughing or out of breath. Back then, the only symptoms that were recognized were respiratory. We didn’t even have test kits then.
Instead of joining everyone at the table, I sipped flat coca cola and nibbled on crackers.
I’ll be better tomorrow, I thought.
Except that I wasn’t. For the next few weeks I had to be near a bucket and a bathroom. I could still only keep down sips of soda and bits of crackers.
But nothing was working. I wasn’t getting better.
At one point I remember telling Marc that I was disappointed in some key lime cookies that we had gotten as a holiday gift. “You’d think they’d at least add a little flavor.”
Marc tasted them. “They’re fine,” he told me “taste exactly like key lime.”
That’s when I realized that I couldn’t taste or smell food. Not only that, but I had lost all sense of appetite and thirst. My gut wasn’t keeping food in me long enough for me to digest it.
There were a few flavors that came through. I could consistently taste salt and weirdly enough cucumber. But I filled up quickly – an appetizer was easily three meals. I had to set the alarm on my phone to remind me to eat and drink. I would look at food and my stomach would convulse.
Food was no longer my friend.
I started losing weight. My skin started looking bad because I wasn’t getting enough nutrients (or water.) All of the sudden I went from being healthy to having my grandmother’s body.
I went to my doc, he wondered if I had suddenly developed IBS and while I certainly had those symptoms, a friend who had been in my covid bubble (remember those?) was sick with the same symptoms I had although her’s were not as severe.
As far as I know IBS is not contagious. I was pretty sure that wasn’t what my problem was.
My friend went to her doc who told her that she had covid and that she was seeing a ton of patients with gastro issues.
This was news to me and it was news to my doc as well.
Remember this was early covid, we were all flying blind.
My doc drew my covid antibodies and there it was, proof that I had been exposed to covid.
For two solid years, food was an issue. I got to the point where I could eat small amounts of regular food but often it tasted “wrong.” A dinner roll tasted so much like mold, I had to spit it out. White wine tasted like sweet vinegar. Fettuccine tasted like rancid garbage.
And at some point while eating, food would become nothing more than fiber I had to chew so I could get it down. It was like a “no more food” switch was turned on after a few bites.
My gut was a mess, I went into c. Diff (a horrible bacterial infection) and h. Pylori.
I lost 85 pounds. People who had seen me before I had gotten sick, didn’t recognize me.
It’s me, Wendy. I am here.
Because I was in a weight-loss spiral, I ended up going to a miracle-worker nutritionist who worked with me on supplements and diet. Basically she put me on a vegan diet with a little bit of hard cheese, chicken, and fish for protein. She saw that I couldn’t keep weight on and so she recommended that I take a large gulp out of a protein drink and then refill the bottle with organic, cold-pressed olive oil – up to 4 times a day.
I got pretty good at chugging that stuff.
This story coincides with my cancer surgeries (see what I mean about chronology?) Surgery takes a lot of nutrition in order to heal from. If you go into any procedure under-nourished, you’re asking for trouble.
Things finally started to finally turn around for me in December 2022 right before I was scheduled for cancer surgery #2. Slowly, slowly, I started putting some weight back on.
I still can’t taste a lot of food, sometimes I can taste something for the first few bites and then it disappears.
I also still don’t have an appetite but I can eat an entire small meal now (provided I haven’t eaten anything in the prior few hours.) In fact, these days, I eat 2-3 small meals a day. I have *some* thirst, but Marc has to constantly remind me to drink water especially on hot days. That thirst mechanism seems to be broken.
I think my gut has been forever changed as a result of this, I seem to be more sensitive to some foods now. But at least I’m eating real food again.
Since December, with a lot of hard work, I’ve gained 15 pounds.
I feel so much for those who have long covid and who are not believed by their doctors or even family members. I can’t tell you how many times people whispered to me “Do you think you could be anorexic?” It’s easier to believe I have a psychological condition than it is to believe I have long covid.
Like many others who have a chronic condition, I stopped talking about it.
Have you lost weight?
Yes, a little.
Well gee, you look great.
Oh…thanks.
Long covid/chronic disease is a bear. If you know anyone who has it, do them a favor and:
- Accept that it exists – it does
- Listen to them – just offer an ear
- Offer to help (help could be taking trash out, suggesting a good show to watch, taking the dog for a walk, or sending a card – be supportive)
Covid is still around. More and more people are going to get long covid. We need to educate ourselves on what this will mean going forward.
And we need to protect ourselves. Having gone through this once, I have no intention to going through it again if I can help it. I still wear a mask in a crowded, unventilated area.
And I get endless grief for doing so.
But when you’ve been to hell and back, you understand that your health is too important to give a damn about what others think.
