People are falling all over themselves to declare they aren’t afraid of COVID. Some eschew masks and precautions all together to show they are unafraid. Others—those I’m more likely to encounter—do wear masks, but make sure others know it isn’t out of fear. They have reasons at the ready—usually that they’re afraid of getting someone else sick—and attribute their concerns to caution, rather than fear.
I don’t do that and I don’t understand the compulsion to do so. I willing say that I’m afraid of getting COVID. I am not immunocompromised. I am not an essential worker. I’m unlikely to get anyone else sick (other than my husband and that thought does scare me). And I’m being more cautious than almost anyone I know.
Why am I so afraid? Because I live with a chronic illness and know what it’s like to lose physical capacity. I will do anything I possibly can to avoid the risk of adding more symptoms to the list of those I already live with.
No one knows what the lasting effects of COVID will be for people who survive. Some will be just fine. Others report lingering symptoms, including impaired breathing, headache, and fatigue, not to mention organ damage. (Headache specialists are seeing new patients with post-COVID headache—living with another headache disorder or worsening the one I already have? No thank you.)
I have had chronic migraine for three-quarters of my life. I’ve had enough relief in the last few years to feel almost normal. Yes, I still spend an inordinate amount of time managing triggers and on self-care to avoid a migraine flare-up, but, nonetheless, I feel mostly healthy. Before the stress of 2020 triggered a migraine exacerbation, I could exercise daily, work almost full-time, buy concert tickets and know I’d be able to attend, make plans with friends and not have to cancel them, plan a trip and be able to enjoy it. Healthy people take those things for granted. I do not, I cannot knowing what it’s like to live such a limited life.
The thought of having lasting impacts of COVID that could potentially rob me of my normalcy is enough to convince me to quarantine for two years if I have to. I have no problem loudly proclaiming that I’m afraid of getting COVID.