A remarkable first-person story in today’s Washington Post:
I used to call it the “scamdemic.” I thought it was an overblown media hoax. I made fun of people for wearing masks. I went all the way down the rabbit hole and fell hard on my own sword, so if you want to hate me or blame me, that’s fine. I’m doing plenty of that myself.

The party was my idea. That’s what I can’t get over. Well, I mean, it wasn’t even a party — more like a get-together. There were just six of us, OK? My parents, my partner, and my partner’s parents… Some people in my family didn’t necessarily share all of my views, but I pushed it. I’ve always been out front with my opinions. I’m gay and I’m conservative, so either way I’m used to going against the grain… I told my family: “Come on. Enough already. Let’s get together and enjoy life for once.” They all came for the weekend. We agreed not to do any of the distancing or worry much about it… We cooked nice meals. We watched a few movies. I played a few songs on my baby grand piano. We drove to a lake about 60 miles outside of Dallas and talked and talked. It was nothing all that special. It was great. It was normal…

I have no idea which one of us brought the virus into the house, but all six of us left with it. It kept spreading from there…. I was sweating profusely. I would wake up in a pool of sweat. I had this tingling feeling all over my body, this radiating kind of pain… Then one day I was walking up the stairs, and all of the sudden, I couldn’t breathe. I screamed and fell flat on my face. I blacked out. I woke up a while later in the ER, and 10 doctors were standing around me in a circle. I was lying on the table after going through a CT scan. The doctors told me the virus had attacked my nervous system. They’d given me some medications that stopped me from having a massive stroke. They said I was minutes away.
I stayed in the hospital for three days, trying to get my mind around it. It was guilt, embarrassment, shame. I thought: “OK. Maybe now I’ve paid for my mistake.” But it kept getting worse. Six infections turned into nine. Nine went up to 14. It spread from one family member to the next, and it was like each person caught a different strain… My father is 78, and he went to get checked out at the hospital, but for whatever reasons, he seemed to recover really fast. My father-in-law nearly died in his living room and then ended up in the same hospital as me on the exact same day. His mother was in the room right next to him because she was having trouble breathing. They were lying there on …read more

Source:: Slashdot