Last night I went to bed at 11.15pm, after ensuring Bear was settled for the night and had everything he needed and wanted. He was very tired, his sinuses were completely blocked and he had a throbbing headache. I finally managed to sleep around 2am, completely exhausted after spending almost three hours crying and thinking about what I would do if he didn’t wake up. In April, a good friend of ours, a man named Ruud, only two years older than Bear died from Covid a fortnight after having a positive test result. He didn’t even have symptoms until the last three days and was admitted to hospital two days before he died.
This and the fact that Bear was completely fine yesterday evening, but by the time he went to bed he was really ill kept my mind actively presenting all manner of horrific pictures of having to tell his parents he had died, having to tell his children, having to organise his funeral and having to live without him. Needless to say I did not sleep easy and was awake at 5.10am straining to hear any tiny little sound from a sleeping man two floors below me. At 5.15am I slipped out of bed and downstairs to the basement to check on him. I needed to know if he was okay. When I heard him softly snoring I wept with relief.
Unable to go back to sleep I sat with the dog and read until 8.30am and then went upstairs and got dressed and started the day. At 10am I went down to see how Bear was doing and if he wanted coffee. He seemed a little brighter but was still stuffed up and croaky voiced, although he assured me he had no throat issues. I have insisted he comes upstairs to eat. We have a long dining table and if we sit at each end, there is a two metre space between us, plus it is the only time I will see him and know how he is doing. I made coffee, breakfast and freshly squeezed orange juice, any help I can give him to fight off this virus is worth the work.
After breakfast he went back downstairs and I got on with the housework. I did it all yesterday but I need to keep busy or I’ll fall apart. I’ve baked chocolate peanut butter oat bars and an American cheesecake and had dinner prepared well before time. This evening I’m watching the Ravens/Vikings game while Bear watches F1 downstairs. We’re keeping in touch via Messenger. My OCD is having a field day. If it’s not showing me horrendous images of my beloved in death it’s telling me I will die if any of those COVID germs gets to me and then shows me all the occasions on which I had kissed Bear before his positive test result. It encourages me to sanitise myself, the house, the dog and everything Bear has been within ten feet of. I am already using masks, gloves and hand sanitiser and wiping down everything before I touch it.
I have to keep telling myself not to go there. That I have to be stronger, for Bear, he has enough to deal with without me going full-retard (pardon the expression) because I’ve lost control of my mental health. I am not looking forward to another night alone.