» On 7/19/2023 06:00:00 AM Mountain Standard Time, Alan wrote:
"Facebook account recovery code." 

Did you receive an email that looks like the message below? [tap to enlarge]
If so, don't click any of the buttons or links. To check whether the email is legit, use the following steps on your Facebook home page:
Account [upper right] > Settings & Privacy > Settings > Password and security > Password and security > Recent emails > [account]
You'll probably see: "We haven't sent you any emails about security in the past 2 weeks."

 
» On 7/01/2023 12:01:00 AM Mountain Standard Time, Alan wrote:
On A Collision Course With Covid. 

I've already written A Charming Little Story About Covid Snot. But here's the rest of our Covid saga:

On March 11, 2020, the World Health Organization declared Covid-19 a pandemic. On May 11, 2023, the U.S. ended its national and public-health emergency declarations over Covid-19. And yet... on May 20, 2023, my lovely wife Anikó tested positive for Covid and I got a positive test result the following day. Breakthrough infections, but not too serious, because we've been vaccinated. My comment: "Hey, kewl! I just joined my qtπ in the Kovid Klub! And we celebrated with a Kovid Kiss! 😉" W.H.O. said we're US cases #103,436,830 and 103,436,831 (31% of population), but at least we're not US deaths #1,127,153 and 1,127,154. [Moral: Getcher d*mn booster - while it's still free! Vaccines.gov]

We had been cooped up, like everybody else, for the past few years. But we've both had our shots (in fact, I've had 7), and we felt like they made us invulnerable, so we decided to take the risk of flying to Hungary in late April, to visit my wife's family. We knew those airplanes were hermetically-sealed metal tubes, making them flying Petri dishes, but we had not seen the Hungarian Fam for several years, so we decided to gamble.

However, sometimes the largest risks aren't in the aircraft, where you mask up against the obvious dangers. Sometimes your biggest challenge shows up in a tiny village of 453 souls. south of Lake Balaton and north of Pécs, where a pale, sweaty woman gives you a key. When the Liget property owner arrived in her Tesla on May 10 to check us into her Airbnb, she looked ill. I was a little worried, but she wasn't wearing a mask, so I figured Liget property owners all looked ill. This woman, Anikó, had the same name as my wife, and the two of them hit it off immediately. In fact, they were chatting right up in each other's faces. I couldn't follow the rapid-fire Magyar conversation, but it was easy to see they both enjoyed talking with each other, so who am I to interfere in this tete-a-tete?. However, when she sent her husband in HIS Tesla to sign us out four days later, saying her doctor had given her some powerful pills a week earlier, I knew something was up. Why didn't she protect us, with a mask? Why didn't she send her husband to give us the key, four days earlier? Stupid f*cking bitch. My wife, daughter and I subsequently flew to England for a mini-vacation in The Cotswolds, and my wife began feeling exhausted, during the final days. So we eventually learned firsthand all the details of living through an episode of Covid, and we're sharing everything with all of you, so this process doesn't remain such a f*cking mystery. And if one person out there gleans a detail that s/he can use to help a friend, or himself/herself, I will die a happy man. Hopefully, many, many years from now. 😉

I was two days behind my wife in Covid symptoms. She had a horrible day on Friday the 19th, in Heathrow, so I thanked my lucky stars that I got to suffer in my own house and my own bed. Covid ain't no laughing matter, especially for us old immunosuppressed codgers.

It turned out I had a small but significant vulnerability that could have killed me. But Paxlovid turned things around, and those three little pills (x10) ended up saving my life. Thank gawd. Thank Pfizer. Thanks, Joe Biden.

I picked up the Paxlovid on Thursday the 25th (see PS on my previous posting), and that night was an epic fight for my very soul. Paxlovid basically works to disrupt the viral replication of Covid, and the feisty little virus didn't want to give up its stranglehold on my throat very easily. So I woke up drenched in sweat, feeling like I had just survived a 15-rounder with Muhammad Ali. I also had an overwhelming metallic taste in the back of my throat. That's when I thought, "If this is Paxlovid Mouth, I couldn't be happier, 'coz it means I GOT BACK MY SENSE OF TASTE! Now gimme them Hot Tamales, chop-chop!!"

So we're pleased with the results of our travel gamble. Only one close call. I'm so thankful it was me, and not my wife or daughter.



PS: I waited awhile before writing this addendum - didn't want to tempt fate. I was worried about Paxlovid Rebound for a coupla weeks, but it never materialized. Then I read this article about the top 12 symptoms of Long Covid, and obsessed about THEM until... well... July 14th, which is today. 😉 Here's the quote that grabbed my attention: "Post-exertional malaise is when people are absolutely exhausted after doing minimal activity. There's an aggravation of the fatigue by minimal activity. These are people who do a minimal amount of activity and then they have to take a one hour long nap to recover from it." My initial reaction was: "Post-exertional malaise? AHA! Now I get to blame this f*cking pandemic for my natural laziness!!"

Labels: covid