Nice of the NHS to send an advisory text about coronavirus, because I was wondering.
Is it possible to have a touch of coronavirus? If so, the builder boyfriend and I suspect we may have had it, and fought it off.
Out of nowhere, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t get any air into my lungs. The sensation was very like altitude sickness, as if someone was holding my shoulders down. This went on for several days until one night I threatened to take myself to casualty with a suspected heart attack.
Being a committed hypochondriac, I got no sympathy at all from the BB, who told me not to be so stupid. I went off to the spare room in a huff and put myself to bed to die alone, telling him he’d be sorry when he woke up to find there was no one to wash and cook for him.
But he was adamant I was making a fuss over nothing, as usual. He said he had also just had several days of feeling as though he was fighting for every breath. It was obvious to him that we had both had the same thing. A virus of some sort, with slightly odd symptoms. No cough, no cold, no fever. Just gasping for breath like a fish out of water.
So I was interested to receive the official guidance from my local GP surgery about coronavirus. They texted me in what I assume was a round robin: ‘Dear Ms Kite, if you have been to China, Macau, Hong Kong, Thailand, Japan, Taiwan, Singapore, Republic of Korea or Malaysia in the last 14 days…’
Nope. I haven’t been anywhere in years, aside from Greece last summer, and as one of the horses managed to inexplicably keel over while I was there — after I had spent weeks preparing a fail-safe care regime involving various friends conducting round- the-clock checks while I was gone — I don’t suppose I will be going anywhere ever again.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in