One week into Covid, the gift that keeps on giving

So glad I got my shots, even if I did get Covid-19.

Got my shots.

Got Covid anyway.

Still, I’m grateful to be muddling through without the fear of my lungs filling up and drowning me. Since my diagnosis, I’ve learned that the shots were created to place a warm, soothing womb around our lungs with a bunch of bad-ass Covid-killing assassin cells guarding the periphery. (Okay, maybe that’s not what’s really occurring, but you get the picture.)

That said, the headaches suck. If someone said, “Hey! Put a nail through your eye. That’ll fix it!” I’d honestly consider seeking out a hammer.

I have always pictured my lovely immune-system protecting white blood cells as Marvin the Martian.

Then there are the dreams. Strange barrages of images and words. In one case, I was trying to solve a problem and hundreds of solutions appeared and attacked me. Some of these ideas were clearly wrong, so I batted them away, but then more came zipping at me. It was like that new commercial with Serena Williams where she’s dressed up as Wonder Woman and whacks tennis balls to stop the monsters, but not as athletic. Or sexy. I wondered if my brain was fighting off Covid bugs and if my own immune-system defenders were winning the battle. (For some reason, I have always pictured my little guys as Marvin the Martian in his Roman helmet and basketball shoes. No idea why.)

Covid also gives one a dry cough that constantly wakes you up when ALL YOU WANT TO DO IS SLEEP! Hence, you will understand why I reached for that codeine-laced cough medicine. Which I took. Then, I passed out. I awoke on the bathroom tile, splayed out like one of those TV villains who plunges ten stories and splats on the sidewalk, limbs going in all the wrong directions. Yep! I fell on my own ankle and broke it in two places, which means the next time I watch a football game and some lineman gets his ankle rolled by some other 300-pound behemoth, I will have to leave the room. Then I’ll send flowers.

Fractured my ankle in two places after I passed out. Ugh!

While I would like not to whine, at the moment it’s hard. I must constantly remind myself that I get to be ill in a nice bed in a nice room in a nice house where I’m tended by people who love me. And, medical professionals were there for me when I cracked my ankle in two. Note that next to my hospital room door the sign said BIOHAZARD, and my name was listed below, along with the rest of the hallway’s Covid patients. I’ve been called a lot of things, but biohazard is definitely new to the list.

Do bear in mind that I’m writing this while on pain meds, so if nothing makes sense, please forgive me. And, if you haven’t gotten the jab yet, I highly recommend it.

Now, I will crawl back in bed and see if I can sleep through the next five days.


I know I’m supposed to be launching my new novel The Castle right now, but I promise I’ll get back to it when I’m not overly medicated, because who knows what I might say when my brain is addled.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is the-castle_front-cover-1.jpg

Ancient ruins, haunted memories, and a ruthless criminal combine with a touch of mystic presence in this taut mystery about a crime we all must address.


Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

Release Date: September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—a six-hundred-year-old pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target.

In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.


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10 thoughts on “One week into Covid, the gift that keeps on giving

  1. John Kernan says:

    Just look down at your feet and tell yourself “ It’s all Jill’s fault.
    Love you. Get well.
    Remember Breathe. Who would have guessed we would be fighting over air.
    I agree. Get the shot. I even snuck in a booster.


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