“Emily… you tested positive.”
Those words struck me like a ton of bricks. How could this possibly be true? And if I was positive, why were the rest of my family members negative? My daughter burst into tears, while my son sat in stunned silence. My husband insisted it must be a false positive. I was trying to wrap my head around the situation.
Thoughts raced through my mind. Was it really true? I had felt a slight headache earlier that morning, probably because I had my coffee later than usual. Just the day before, I’d experienced some aches, but we had recently gotten a new mattress, and I often feel sore after sleeping on a new bed. And my dog seemed under the weather yesterday; could he have COVID? Can dogs even get COVID? Oh no, my son slept in my bed last night! But he tested negative, at least for now! How on earth did I contract COVID? Had I been negligent? Why did this happen to us? To me?
I’ve always been someone who follows the rules. When the pandemic began in March 2020, I was ready for a family quarantine. I assigned chores to my kids, like disinfecting door handles daily. I sanitized everything I could find. I ordered masks for everyone and stocked up on essentials like Tylenol, a pulse oximeter, several boxes of Cold-Eze (which are said to help fight viruses), Gatorade, tissues, and a new thermometer for when illness struck. From March to June, we didn’t leave the house except for masked walks in the neighborhood. As infection rates dropped during the summer and fall, we eased up a bit, socializing outdoors in small groups. My children have been in virtual school since March, celebrating holidays like Passover and Chanukah alone.
As the Director of Student Health Services at a university, I enforce rules by profession. Over the past ten months, I’ve managed our institution’s COVID response, developing policies for compliance and overseeing the isolation and quarantine processes for students.
Having worked from home throughout the pandemic, I hadn’t been tested for COVID until recently, as my family was traveling to our Massachusetts home for a 10-day winter break. My husband and I stopped for drive-through testing on our way up North, and that’s when I found out I was positive.
We quickly turned the car around, masks on and windows rolled down, my daughter crying in the backseat, while my husband and I tried to figure out how this could have happened. If I was positive, why wasn’t he? We had spent the last four days together. Confused, we debated whether to stop for a PCR test to confirm the rapid result, hoping it was a false positive.
I called Sarah, the Director of Student Health Services where I work, to share the news and seek guidance. We’ve been in constant communication since March, fighting this virus together. Upon hearing my news, she gasped, then quickly shifted to her role as a healthcare professional, asking about my symptoms and helping me with contact tracing. She reassured me that it could be a false positive—but it might not be either. According to the Department of Health, I had COVID.
As we drove home, I texted family and friends to update them and reassure them that I felt fine. Once home, I grabbed my favorite snacks and locked myself in the guest room.
Sitting on the bed, I broke down in tears.
I’ve been working 14-16 hour days, often including weekends, since March 2020. My job is usually high-pressure, but the past ten months have taken a toll on me. With two young children and a new puppy, and my husband working outside the home, I’ve been juggling a lot.
Burnt out and overwhelmed, I had been looking forward to this winter break as my first chance to truly unwind in nearly a year. I wasn’t sure if I was crying because I’d be spending my long-awaited vacation confined to a room, or because my kids were scared, or because I felt I’d ruined the break for my entire family. Typically, I’m an optimistic person, but in that moment, I felt defeated. There was nothing I could do to fix it.
That first night, I found myself obsessively searching for information about COVID, trying to understand what the next ten days would hold. I opened the pulse oximeter and learned how to use it, popping Cold-Eze every hour and taking my temperature at least nine times.
As the days passed, I felt incredibly fortunate to remain asymptomatic. Beyond the mental strain of being an extrovert isolated in a room, I considered myself one of the lucky ones (so far). Each morning, I woke up genuinely grateful for my health. This situation forced me to slow down and appreciate life.
I realized that my body and mind were signaling the need for a break. After all I had been through this year (like so many others), it was time to take a step back. As I write this, my 10-year-old daughter is in the kitchen baking me s’mores cupcakes. Yes, I needed this.
Will my house look like a disaster when I finally leave the guest room? Absolutely. Will I clean obsessively for the ten days after my isolation ends? You bet. Will I burst out of this room like Maria on the hilltop in “The Sound of Music”? Of course. Will I appreciate my husband, children, and puppy even more when this is all over? Definitely.
I’m still unsure what the lesson is here. I’m a rule follower, yet despite adhering to all guidelines, here I am. I hope everyone reading this is also following the rules but recognizes that none of us are invincible… yet. This virus can catch anyone off guard.
When possible, please consider getting vaccinated. You may not be as fortunate as I am.
Here’s to a much brighter 2021, filled with vaccines and countless hugs.
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Summary:
Emily Hart shares her shocking experience of testing positive for COVID-19, despite being a diligent rule follower and health professional. After a family trip to Massachusetts, she learns she is positive while her family remains negative. This unexpected diagnosis leads her to reflect on her intense work schedule, the challenges of parenting during a pandemic, and the need for self-care. Throughout her isolation, she remains grateful for her health and contemplates the importance of following health guidelines.