#writing • Someone on the internet I have never met just poked me. So hard that it hurt. Her name is Liz and I forgive her because she didn’t poke me personally. I might even liken it to jabbing myself, and all because she defined the word “enough” in my context.
In January of 2020, two months before it would have a name, my little family of three caught Covid-19. While we didn’t experience any respiratory complications or need hospitalization, it was painful and exhausting, and I was dealing with a bout of Shingles at the same time. My right hip, thigh, and lower back have never recovered and still feel slightly numb. I blame the Covid.
Well, more precisely, I blame Long Covid. My particular variety includes brain …