St. Patrick’s Day is My Long Covid Anniversary

In March 2020 the meaning I attached to St Patrick’s Day was forever changed. I was working in London and had worn some green that morning to mark the celebrations in the usual way. I started to feel a tickle in my throat through the afternoon and came home that evening with a runny nose and sore throat. From that day, March 17th is now inexorably linked to my COVID anniversary and the start of my experience with Long Covid.

Growing up in New York State, St. Patrick's Day was always marked by celebration, fun and a sense of whimsy. It was a minor holiday, but one I always looked forward to and enjoyed. My family has Irish roots on both my mom and dad’s side. On top of that, it coincided with a couple of family birthdays and my uncle's wedding anniversary, so around that time of year I have memories of fun family gatherings, shamrocks and Irish flags. It remained a holiday to mark in a low-key way: wearing green; enjoying a themed milkshake and drinks and playing some Irish music.

When I moved to London, I found the St. Patrick’s Day celebrations were much more muted. Understandable, given the history between Ireland and the UK, but as pubs embraced it as another opportunity to get people out to enjoy a pint, some of the light hearted spirit was on show.

In March 2020 the celebrations were somewhat overshadowed by growing concern over a new disease that had been circulating in China and had just started to hit Europe, and Northern Italy in particular. The concern at the time was a blend of worry, given the stories emerging from impacted areas, as well as simple fear of the unknown.    

London had become noticeably more quiet the previous week. Commuter trains were still full, but the tourist traffic was limited and the usual hustle and bustle was reduced. I was working for the National Health Service at the time and we had just pivoted to standing up an emergency pandemic response. Overnight, my team had shifted from doing analytic work supporting quality improvement and value-based contract negotiations, to learning how to model the likely impact of this new disease on the population of East London. People were starting to get sick, and we were gearing up to be all hands to the pump to support whatever needs arose over the coming weeks. This included supporting a rapid shift to remote working for my team, which was part of my focus on the last day I was in the office.         

Through the day on March 17, 2020 I started to develop a little tickle in my throat. At first I figured I just needed to drink a little more water. Toward the end of the day my nose started to run a little. It all felt very mild, it was hard to even contemplate that this could be the start of something more serious - not me, I was a healthy person who was never hit hard by colds or the flu. As I left work that evening, I tidied up my desk just a little more than usual and grabbed a couple extra provisions, including my laptop, mouse and desktop computer’s keyboard.

Clearly, I wasn’t alone; the journey home was a surreal experience. In hindsight I shouldn’t have been on public transport, but at the time I didn't fully realize that I was sick - or that March 17th 2020 would be my last day of conventional office-based work. As I made my way home, I walked south across London Bridge to the train station. All around me were professionals leaving work with parts of their office - computer monitors, keyboards, files. People silently streaming across the bridge, not knowing what the coming weeks had in store for them personally but making provisions to keep calm and carry on.

The train journey that evening was equally surreal. The trains were known for being quiet, with hardly any chatting between passengers as people used the time to work, read, and decompress from their day. But the train that day was even more quiet and still. A weight hung over everything. It was at once a communal, and intensely personal, quiet as each person sat with their own concerns and contemplated what may come next.

When I got home I had a brief conversation with my husband and we agreed that for his sake, and the sake of our daughter who was under one year old at the time, I would isolate myself to be on the safe side. So I quickly grabbed provisions - spare clothes, power cords, computer and phone, water bottle and toiletries and headed for the spare room. Over the following hours the virus started to take hold and I found myself dealing with a headache, shortness of breath and other now “classic” COVID symptoms. Connecting with people at work, I knew the hospitals were filling fast, I hoped I would be able to ride things out at home. I also hoped that I managed to not expose people around me before heading into isolation.  

I could not have imagined the scale of impact that a COVID infection would have on my body and my life. I spent three years subject to what is classed as mild to moderate Long Covid symptoms, but for me personally they were life altering. To the outside world I was functional, but everything I did throughout my day was impacted. Making it difficult to think and interact with people in ways that I had always done. Leaving me feeling wary about being in the presence of other people, even close friends and family - worried that I may get sick again, or inadvertently get someone else sick with a life altering disease.        

Despite all this, I class myself lucky. On the spectrum of people impacted by Long Covid, my experience was relatively mild compared to what others face. Also, I am profoundly grateful that I have found a way to manage symptoms and feel like myself again. It has been a game changer to know it is possible to feel better, and to hopefully reduce the risk of some of the longer term health impacts of Long Covid as well. 

While I am grateful I have been able to manage symptoms, the experience has changed me in many ways. One small way is that every year, instead of getting excited about the light hearted fun of St. Patrick’s Day, March 17th is now forever tied to my COVID anniversary date. For some, COVID was an illness that came and went with a little discomfort but not much else. For me, and many others, it was life changing.

I am grateful that as this next anniversary date comes and goes I now have a set of simple tools and techniques to significantly reduce the impact Long Covid symptoms have on my life. But the anniversary date also brings back the feeling of the day I went home ill and of the weeks (and months!) that followed of not understanding why I was experiencing a number of strange symptoms that impacted my heart rate, breathing and mind.

 If any of this resonates with you, and you are still searching for ways to manage Long Covid symptoms, Andrea Henkel Burke and I created a 12-week program Long Covid Symptom Management that is open for registration at the moment. We are passionate about supporting people impacted by Long Covid by sharing knowledge about how the disease impacts people and offering simple evidence-based options to manage symptoms. We invite you to join if it may help.

Warmly,
Katie