Yesterday, Eric, Nathan, and I went to a friend’s birthday party. I’d had an unexpected (minor) seizure more than a month ago, and the neurologist had told us that it could be triggered by lack of sleep. That’s why he prescribed a “mild” sedative that had a pile of side effects, drowsiness and tiredness among them. But I resolved to ignore the tiredness and go anyway; she had turned fifty, and fiftieth birthdays only happen once in a lifetime.
It was the first COVID party we attended. It took place in the garden, so there was enough room to keep the prescribed distance, and all participants – both hosts and guests – wore masks. The hostess (a mutual friend) served drinks, and there was a plan to wash the glasses once the party ended. Strangely enough, what would have prompted a mix of criticism and approval before my injury, reassured me after it. COVID scares me: I’m scared of getting seizures triggered by the fever, one of the symptoms of the disease; of reliving all the emotions stirred by my trips back and forth to the hospital and my stays there; of the increase of my weakness and helplessness; and, certainly (and irrationally), of death.
Whether because I felt reassured or because the weather was mild – stars appeared one after the other in the clear sky - I had a lot fun. There were plenty of friendly, interesting guests, and I enjoyed the conversation and the music (performed by two musician friends of the friend who had invited us).
The evening turned into night without my noticing. Suddenly, I felt very tired, and told Eric to push me home. A mix of tiredness and happiness accompanied me all along the (short) way there. Once he, Nathan, and I got in, Eric gave me my meds, helped me through my nightly routine, and kissed me good night.
These are my favorite parties: exciting, fun, and full of people I would like to get to know. That’s why ignoring my tiredness was worthwhile.
It was the first COVID party we attended. It took place in the garden, so there was enough room to keep the prescribed distance, and all participants – both hosts and guests – wore masks. The hostess (a mutual friend) served drinks, and there was a plan to wash the glasses once the party ended. Strangely enough, what would have prompted a mix of criticism and approval before my injury, reassured me after it. COVID scares me: I’m scared of getting seizures triggered by the fever, one of the symptoms of the disease; of reliving all the emotions stirred by my trips back and forth to the hospital and my stays there; of the increase of my weakness and helplessness; and, certainly (and irrationally), of death.
Whether because I felt reassured or because the weather was mild – stars appeared one after the other in the clear sky - I had a lot fun. There were plenty of friendly, interesting guests, and I enjoyed the conversation and the music (performed by two musician friends of the friend who had invited us).
The evening turned into night without my noticing. Suddenly, I felt very tired, and told Eric to push me home. A mix of tiredness and happiness accompanied me all along the (short) way there. Once he, Nathan, and I got in, Eric gave me my meds, helped me through my nightly routine, and kissed me good night.
These are my favorite parties: exciting, fun, and full of people I would like to get to know. That’s why ignoring my tiredness was worthwhile.
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