Day 150-195: The 46-Day Disappearance, the Virus That Wouldn’t F* Off, and the Era of Me Becoming a Victorian Orphan

Strap in.

Cancel plans.

Text your loved ones.

Hydrate aggressively.

This post is going to be LONGER, LOUDER, UNHINGED, UNEDITED, and EXTREMELY JABatha.

Right.

FIRST THINGS FIRST.

Admin. Housekeeping. Clearing the air.

YES - I am aware I vanished.

NO - this was not a creative sabbatical.

NO - this was not a “strategic pause”.

NO - this was not a soft launch of mystery, intrigue, or personal rebrand.

NO - I did not go on Eat Pray Love.

If anything, I went on Cough Wheeze Dissociate.

I have not written for FORTY-SIX DAYS.

Not “about six weeks”.

Not “just over a month”.

FORTY. SIX. DAYS.

That is not “a bit under the weather”.

That is not “oh I had a cold”.

That is WHAT IT TOOK ME TO RECOVER FROM THE MOST UNHINGED, STUBBORN, SPITEFUL VIRUS KNOWN TO MAN, a virus that clearly had time, ambition, and a personal vendetta.

Still going though.

Somehow.

Against all medical probability.

Because if resilience were an Olympic sport, I’d be on the podium, wrapped in a blanket, coughing into a tissue, whispering “worth it” while absolutely not believing that.

THE VIRUS: A SCIENTIFIC MYSTERY (BUT MAKE IT PERSONAL AND RUDE)

Let me be VERY clear here, because clarity is important and I will die on this hill:

I know exactly when and where we got ill, and I will remember it forever, because the human brain never forgets trauma disguised as a “nice little night out”.

We went out just before Christmas.

ONE.

SINGULAR.

MODEST.

FESTIVE.

OUTING.

One “oh go on, it’ll be fine”.

One “we deserve this”.

One “what’s the worst that could happen?”

Narrator, immediately and aggressively: Everything.

That night has been permanently logged in my memory as:

“The Event That Ruined Christmas, New Year, January, My Health, and My Personality.”

So what was it exactly?

Let’s review the shortlist of potential biological crimes:

New Covid: Covid 25 – Still Here, Still Annoying, Still No Chill

Bird flu (did I lick a pigeon? I don’t THINK so but I can’t be sure)

Bat flu (no bats were eaten, despite the rumours, the lies, the slander)

Squirrel pox (those little bastards are suspicious)

Victorian Influenza (bring back fainting couches and moral support corsets)

Consumption (I’ve got the vibe for it)

The Black Death (but festive)

Ebola Lite™ (all the drama, fewer headlines)

Or simply That Thing Going Around™ that doctors swear is nothing while simultaneously sounding like they’re calling from the bottom of a well.

All I know is this virus entered our bodies, kicked its shoes off, put the kettle on, and said, “Right. I live here now. Hope that’s okay.”

It was NOT okay.

CHRISTMAS: CANCELLED. NYE: CANCELLED. JOY: FULLY DELETED.

Let us pause for a moment of respectful silence for what was meant to be:

Christmas plans

New Year’s Eve

Anniversary in January

Seeing family

Seeing friends

Being a vaguely functioning human being

No Christmas dinner.

No champagne.

No festive chaos.

No passive-aggressive arguments over roast potatoes and oven space.

New Year’s Eve?

IN BED AT 8PM.

EIGHT.

PM.

While other people were popping corks, screaming countdowns, kissing strangers, and promising to “get fit” and “travel more”, I was wrapped in a blanket, wheezing like an asthmatic accordion, staring at the ceiling, and wondering which past life sin had led me here.

WOW.

ICONIC.

ABSOLUTELY ROCK ‘N’ ROLL.

And because the universe is a comedian who hates me personally, Christmas dinner was eaten A WEEK AGO.

In JANUARY.

Long after the decorations had lost their meaning.

Mid-winter.

Emotionally confusing.

Spiritually offensive.

Honestly grounds for legal action.

SYMPTOMS: GOTTA CATCH ’EM ALL

We were so ill, and I don’t mean “man flu” or “a bit sniffly”, I mean EVERY SYMPTOM UNDER THE SUN TURNED UP LIKE IT WAS A MEDICAL CONFERENCE AND NO ONE CHECKED THE AGENDA.

Roll call included, but was not limited to:

Crushing, soul-flattening exhaustion

Zero energy (and I mean NEGATIVE energy, like borrowing from the future)

Fever

Snots (industrial quantities)

Cough

Body aches

Headaches

Brain fog so thick I could have lost a sofa in it

Soul briefly leaving body, popping back to check emails, then leaving again

Honestly, if WebMD had a loyalty card, I’d have earned a free coffee, a muffin, and a personal apology.

My immune system?

DESTROYED.

Folded.

Packed away.

Put in storage.

I couldn’t even get myself into the car to drive to the station, which is the moment you realise you’ve crossed from “unwell” into “this is now a lifestyle”.

Working from home wasn’t a perk - it was a medical necessity.

ANTIBIOTICS: THE BETRAYAL ARC NOBODY ASKED FOR

Enter: relentless rounds of antibiotics, prescribed with optimism and delivered with chaos.

Did they help?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO.

What they did do was:

Ruin my gut

Add unnecessary side quests

Strip me of whatever dignity I had left

At this point I started thinking, very calmly and not at all dramatically, “Is this… something sinister?”

So naturally, I attempted to get a GP appointment.

GP LOGIC: TIME IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT

GP says:

“You had blood tests 1.5 years ago and everything was fine.”

I’m sorry - DO YOU THINK THE HUMAN BODY IS A NOKIA 3310 THAT NEVER UPDATES?

Do you know what can happen in 1.5 years?

Hormones can go absolutely feral

Vitamins can disappear like socks in a tumble dryer

Life can happen

A GLOBAL PANDEMIC CAN CONTINUE HAPPENING

But yes.

Everything is fine.

Outstanding medical insight.

No notes.

Standing ovation.

GOING PRIVATE: BLOOD, BUT MAKE IT EXCESSIVE

So I went private, where they took so much blood I briefly considered asking if I should lie down and be wrapped in foil afterwards.

And guess what?

Turns out I have:

Virtually ZERO vitamin B

Virtually ZERO zinc

SO NO - NOT EVERYTHING IS OK, ACTUALLY.

Zinc, famously, is quite important.

For things like:

HAVING AN IMMUNE SYSTEM

NOT CATCHING EVERY DISEASE LIKE THEY’RE POKÉMON

And vitamin B12?

We are not opening that door today.

That door leads to feelings.

So yes, suddenly my inability to shake the virus made perfect sense.

Maybe they just don’t teach vitamins at school.

Maths? Yes.

Algebra? Sure.

“How not to physically collapse when ill”? Apparently optional.

SUPPLEMENTS & THE SLOW CRAWL BACK TO LIFE

I’ve now started proper supplements, eating more protein, drinking more water, and slowly - painfully - beginning to feel like a person again.

Think:

Windows 95 loading bar.

One pixel at a time.

Occasionally freezing.

Asking if you’d like to send an error report.

MOUNJARO: A SITUATIONSHIP WITH CONSEQUENCES

Let’s talk about Mounjaro.

I am pretty sure it has contributed to how hard it’s been for me to recover.

Am I still on it?

Yes.

For now.

Unfortunately.

But I’ve made a conscious decision to stop, because honestly, I have nothing else to lose.

I have no fat on me.

I am ALWAYS cold.

I am essentially a vampire without the benefits.

Cold.

Pale.

Avoiding daylight.

Thriving exclusively on supplements and spite.

I’ve had chilblains again, which I now get every time I’m ill post-Covid, and if you’ve never lain awake at 3am wanting to scratch your toes down to the bone while silently bargaining with the universe, then congratulations on your charmed life.

10MG: ABSOLUTELY NEVER AGAIN

I’ve been on 10mg for 12 weeks and I’m dropping back to 7.5 on Sunday.

There is NO WAY I’m going up.

10mg has made me violently unwell.

I genuinely do not know how people go to 15.

Are they immortal?

Are they built different?

Are they lying?

Are they simply not human?

I have been puking like there is no tomorrow.

Doesn’t matter what I eat.

Doesn’t matter what I drink.

Straight to the bathroom.

Head in toilet.

Repeatedly.

With commitment.

My gastroparesis has NEVER been this bad.

Even smells made me gag.

Try cleaning the cats’ litter tray in that state.

Especially after Molly.

I will not elaborate.

I survived.

That is enough.

GOODBYE MOUNJARO (SOON, THANK GOD)

So yes. I think I’m done.

Another 3–4 months of tapering down, and then goodbye.

I am grateful - genuinely - for the weight loss and how I look now, but this process has changed me, and not entirely in a “glowing, reborn” way.

I think I used to be happier.

I did more.

I feel cold.

I feel tired.

But hey - I chose this.

I stuck with it.

So yes.

Self-inflicted.

HAHA.

It does feel incredible to wear smaller clothes again, but everything has a limit.

And I have reached mine.

Even after stopping, I’ll probably still lose weight because my stomach is now approximately the size of:

A watermelon pip

A poppy seed

A Tic Tac

One singular grain of rice

A molecule

A concept

A rumour of food

THE MEOWCAST: STILL BROADCASTING

And yes.

The cats.

The Meowcast is still very much live.

“HELLO MUMMY” every night.

And of course - the bum in my face.

Not occasional.

Not seasonal.

CONSTANT.

This is my life now. And I wouldn't have it any other way!

FINAL THOUGHTS FROM A WOMAN WHO NEEDS A BEACH AND A BREAK

I desperately need a beach holiday.

Sand.

Sun.

No symptoms.

No medication schedules.

Anyone else?

Just me?

Going forward, I’ll be writing less.

Life took over.

Work is busy.

And writing daily is genuinely a full-time job.

I’ll still update you - just not every day.

Thank you to everyone who stuck with me.

And I am PRAYING this virus finally does one, because quite frankly...

I AM BORED OF IT NOW.

With Love,

JABatha Christie (still upright, medically unimpressed, emotionally fragile, spiritually beachless, and now one minor inconvenience away from fainting onto a chaise longue)