Long-Haul Covid Is an Awful Mystery
Here’s what living with it feels like
You know the doctor’s appointment isn’t starting well when the nurse looks at the blood pressure cuff and frowns. “Did I put it too tight,” she asks, “Is your circulation all right?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply absently. “I haven’t been able to feel that arm in a couple of days.” I show her the lump in my elbow and explain there’s one in my neck and one in my back. They’re everywhere, as a matter of fact. And those lumps mean one thing to me: no feeling, or if I’m lucky, pins and needles.
She takes my blood pressure and frowns again, then hurries out and approaches soon after with the doctor. At least it’s my regular physician. Seeing a new doctor means justifying my illness over and over again.
The medical staff make me lie down and rest and don’t seem satisfied until my heart rate gets below 115. I’m asked a couple of questions and I explain that my heart rate does that when I stand too long. I waited in line to check in, remember. The five minutes standing made me pale and sweaty. My heart rate rises and feels hard in my chest.
I need a cardiologist apparently. And a neurologist. These are to be added to the pulmonologist and gastroenterologist I still see regularly.
