Sara,
You and I went to LA in late February 2020 to work on a new song with Greg Kurstin. Sofia and I had moved to Vancouver months earlier, just like you and Stacy, but Sofia was still working remotely for a company based out of Los Angeles, so she was there the week we were in the studio too. A lot of Sofia’s colleagues had recently traveled to Asia and had come home sick, some of them wondering if it might be Covid. It was around that time that everyone was starting to wonder if Covid was going to become a thing in America. None of us understood how serious Covid was yet, so I don’t remember us giving it much thought that Sofia was around people who were sick. But when we got back to Vancouver, Sofia got sick immediately. At first, it was just extreme fatigue, and I wasn’t worried at all. By day two, she had a terrible cough and cold, and we started to wonder if she had caught Covid while we were in LA. For the next week, she coughed as much as I did when I had whooping cough in 2006. She called her doctor to see if there was a test for Covid, but her doctor said there were no tests accessible yet, and since she didn’t have a fever, she probably didn’t have it.
A week after Sofia got sick, I came down with whatever she had. Two days of extreme fatigue, followed by a sore throat and a cold. Then my face swelled up and peeled. My doctor said the same as Sofia’s; there were no tests to confirm if I had Covid, but since I had no fever, it was unlikely. By then, everyone was stocking up on cold medications and toilet paper. Soon, like everyone we knew, Sofia and I were isolated in our apartment for what we thought was going to be a few weeks but turned out to be months.
As the Covid symptoms list grew and we learned more about the virus, Sofia and I decided fever or no fever, we must have had it when we got back from LA. Sofia had all sorts of health issues in the months that followed, and I had a weird set of symptoms that lingered too. Blood blisters in my mouth, flushing, reddening in my face, food allergies that came out of nowhere, and sensitivities that I hadn’t experienced before being sick in March. I also got hives a lot, and boy, did I talk about them. I searched my text conversations from 2020 and found hundreds, literally hundreds, of mentions where I used the word hives. I was obsessed with my hives and the possibility they were linked to Covid. Still, I was cautious and careful and tried not to get Covid (again) just in case. Even when we went to you and Stacys' house, we washed our hands constantly and sat outside. Like most people, we kept our distance until we were vaccinated. But even after our second shot, we were still tentative to hang out indoors or take unnecessary risks.
There are dozens and dozens of ways my life looks different than it did before Covid. I see fewer people; I do less socializing; I haven’t seen a concert since this all began! I think about the risk of getting sick a lot. And I make choices about what activities I am willing to do based on what travel or work you and I have on the schedule. When we were making our new album, I was extra careful. Studios are expensive. We were in LA and staying in a hotel. Five days of being sick would be a massive hit to our budget. So as annoying as it started to feel, I kept social distancing, washing my hands, wearing a mask, and hanging out with friends outside.
I was in LA in January and February, as you know. I got my Booster before New Years and found myself finally loosening up my social distancing, as Omicron had spread in my circle of friends over the holidays. But I never got it in LA. Or the first two months we were in Calgary. Then three weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night, sheets and pajamas soaked in sweat, feverish, achy, and coughing. The production sent someone to test me at my apartment. Ten hours later they called and let me know I had Covid. I felt relieved to know conclusively that I had it. Oddly I also felt a little excited. It had finally happened. Now what? I settled in for a week alone and waited.
By the end of the first day, I was aching and feverish, I had a dry cough and couldn’t find a comfortable position to lay down in. But I never got much more than the sniffles, and a sore throat. I had Covid insomnia and brain fog as the days wore on, but all things considered, it wasn't so bad. I felt grateful I had a mild case of Covid, I know so many people haven’t been so lucky. You were kind enough to drop medicine and a heating pad, a few iced coffees, and sour cream and onion chips at my doorstep.
For a week I didn’t see a soul — not even you. I found the time in isolation went quickly, though. I found reading easier than watching TV. And though I was sad to miss our final days on set, I felt lucky I had so much time there to begin with, so I accepted my fate and leaned into it.
It’s been a few weeks, and my cough is lingering, as is the brain fog. I’m taking a steroid for my cough and still waking up feeling more tired than usual. But as someone who is fully vaccinated and boostered, young (ish), and healthy, it wasn’t so bad. Still, moving forward, I’ll be washing my hands, wearing a mask when I think I should, and trying to avoid getting it again. I might go see a concert soon, use my immunity while I have it. And I might even give some hugs. Maybe. We’ll see. As we start to plan to tour in the fall I admit I am nervous. But I won’t get into that now. I just worry about one of us getting sick on the road. Every member of the band and crew is crucial. I am stumped on how the best way to tour is, and how we’ll deal with cancelation due to Covid if they happen — and they probably will. That’s for another email. Anyway, thanks again for dropping supplies and going to set without me when I got sick. I hope you didn’t get Covid from the club the other night, where we went to celebrate after we wrapped the show. But if you did, I’ll bring you some chips, and a heating pad.
Tegan
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