Today was a learning experience: I am not superhuman.
Back out of self-isolation - finally - and feeling like a million bucks, I went ahead with plans made before catching Covid. I ventured into central London to meet Phil to see the Sophie Taeuber-Arp exhibition at Tate Modern.
It was meant to be my first visit to the gallery since 8 March 2020, just before the pandemic started.
Instead, it was a fool's errand.
Double-masking for the Tube journey, by the time I reached Holborn, I knew something was wrong. I started to feel faint after the short walk to the station and about 15 minutes of standing on the train. The cooler air as I came up to the Central line refreshed me a bit. But I grabbed a seat for the two stops to St Paul's.
By the time I got out of St Paul's station, it was a quick call between the Co-op for food or sitting down to avoid falling down.
I went for the latter on a park by the back of St Paul's Cathedral, but then I was too far away from the Co-op to get food and drink to revive myself.
Full disclosure: yesterday was a mess of a day, and in the process, I neglected to eat. I'd had a handful of sour cream and chive pretzels while dressing this morning and thought I'd be okay until I could grab a sandwich at the gallery.
When I realised my predicament, I called Phil to let him know, and I ended up bailing up a passing couple who kindly took some cash from me to buy me a sandwich and a drink. They came back with both plus some fruit. Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers!
The food helped but not enough. I realised I couldn't walk 20 minutes from St Paul's to the gallery, let alone 1.5 hours slow-walking around inside the gallery in a mask. As it was, even after finishing the cheddar ploughman sandwich and a third of the cherry 7Up Free, I was struggling not to feel lightheaded standing on the spot.
At that point, I admitted defeat and told Phil to go ahead with the exhibition on his own, and I'd figure out how to get home.
It took me an hour, all told, to get transport.
I managed to get to a nearby Starbucks to use their bathroom. I then tried to head home via the Tube, but as soon as I got down to the platform, it was clearly a massive "nope".
I quickly made my way back up to the street level to try to hail a cab. There were so few of them, and those that passed already had passengers or were on the wrong side of the multi-way intersection I was near.
I sat back on a bench about two over from the one I'd landed on when I came out of the station. I repeatedly swore as I waited for the Uber app to download, and I went through the process of setting up an account. Finally, I was able to book a car to collect me.
The seven minutes to arrival felt like the longest seven minutes ever. I had a feeling of pressure on the back of my ears and across the back of my head, indicating I was perilously close to fainting. I couldn't lie down on the bench because it had armrests between each seat.
The relief when my Uber arrived was unbelievable. I was finally able to lie down in the back of the car to recover. It took about 5-10 minutes until I could sit up and talk with the driver for the rest of the journey. He was a nice guy, and we had a good conversation while he drove me back to the safety of home.
I made it into the flat safely but was still very low on energy. So I crawled back into bed to try to recover.
After a 50-minute call from a friend in Melbourne and replying to some messages, I felt like I would at 3 AM, not 3 PM. My body threatened to fall asleep while I was typing into my phone.
While thunderstorms raged outside, I slept for most of 1.5 hours. Then close to another 2 hours before I finally felt able to resurface and get some chores done and edit the photo above from a visit to St Ethelreda's Church in Hatfield in 2019.
Based on today's experience, it will be a while before I venture far from home again. I might try to walk to the high street (about 500m from my place) tomorrow for some small things. But I'll be ordering groceries online this week and laying low while I recharge my batteries.
On a "related, but not" note: it is not ideal to have symptoms of carpal tunnel syndrome for the first time when in the midst of, and recovering from, a highly infectious and deadly virus. But at least now I know what the strange tingling in my left arm is. And the panic surrounding that particular symptom has disappeared.
Also related: the virus has made me a cheap drunk, at least temporarily.