This post is a continuation of my previous posts, Covid Day 0, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, and Day 5.
I had a somewhat fitful sleep, moving around a lot as the pressure in my sinuses shifted. I got a tissue and blew my nose a couple of times. My immune system seemed to be in a fairly pitched battle. I rooted for it.
When I awoke, I was glad that my sinuses felt almost entirely clear. I had a bit more mental clarity. However, my physical energy was at its lowest point yet. Like it was an effort to sit up and get out of bed.
I wondered if this physically drained feeling was the result of my brain and body expending a lot of energy in the fight.
I opened all the doors and windows in the house. I sat outside on a lawn chair and did three rounds of breathing (nasal inhale) at a slow pace. My times were 1:00, 1:30, and 1:45. (This is the length of time I’m holding after EXHALE not inhale, download the Wim Hof app for a complete explanation of the technique.)
During retention (after exhale), I could hear the Jays making their distinctive sound. It’s a sound I associate with Yosemite. It takes me back there. And it’s one of my favourite things about our neighbourhood.
I stood in the morning light and let it shine into my eyes for a bit. I texted my breathing results to my sister. She and I did this breathing every morning for a year. I have now been doing it for what, two years?
I went inside and took a shower with Tito Puente. I just love writing that sentence. I find Puente’s music completely revitalizing and there’s just something about the way he brings it. I like people who bring it. It’s amazing to me that Tito is “just playing the timbales.”
Adversaries who bring it can make you better. I imagine Covid as an adversary who is bringing it. I focus on welcoming the challenge.
After taking a hot shower and letting the steam get into my sinuses, I switch it to cold.
The music and the cold bring energy into my body. I’m almost dancing. Feeling good. This is how I know I’ve reached the “minimum effective dose” of cold—when it becomes playful.
I’m glad I’ve been taking cold showers every morning for about a year now. Because in the beginning, I could only do it for a few seconds. Now that I’m cold-adapted, I can stay in for a long time, usually one or two songs. Now, when I turn it off, it isn’t because I am in flight from it. I am in flight with it. Today it’s more of a gentle glide, but I welcome it nonetheless.
My wife is still asleep. I know she was up late last night. I know she is feeling this flu-like sapped energy feeling. I am eager to hear how she feels.
I get dressed and have a half-bottle of Gatorade on ice. Then I have my morning coffee and do a 20-minute session with the X-Plus. Normally, I do the Neuro in the mid-morning, and X-Plus in the evening, but given that the body module of the X-Plus targets the thymus, and the nasal applicator uses a different frequency than the Neuro’s, it seems like I need to X-Plus in the morning.
My wife is now up and we check in. “It’s moved to my head,” she says. She’s taken a nasal decongestant. I ask if she’d like to do the X-Plus first or the breathing first. “Can I do both?”
I often do my breathing exercises whilst using the Vielight devices. I don’t know if Vielight has ever done a study comparing the efficacy of breathing normally vs. doing active breathing exercises (such as Wim Hof) whilst using a Vielight device, but it seems like knowing how much that might enhance the effect could be important.
I have the second half of the Gatorade and take my usual morning supplements (Creatine, CDP Choline, Acetyl-L-Carnitine, Vitamin D) plus 800mg of Longvida Curcumin.
We sit in our lawn chairs outside. My wife activates the X-Plus. I feel the sunshine on my head and body. We do three rounds of breathing.
Afterwards, I tell her I took my eye off the ball yesterday. Didn’t do my cold shower. Didn’t do the breathing as much as I should have. She says she also assumed she would just keep getting better and dove into work.
When our son wakes up, he says he’s feeling close to 100%. No sore throat. Fairly normal energy. No real body aches.
We go outside where he and I do three rounds of breathing. Then he does a 20-minute session with the X-Plus whilst I do the Neuro.
At 2:30 I have my first dose of SynaQuell.
I check in with my wife. Instead of asking her to do the second session of breathing, I tell her I’m about to do a session. She says she’s too busy to do so and realises that it’s “time for me to take another Sudafed.” She riffles through her bag for one.
This interaction is another example of her inclination toward medication and my disinclination. However, if sinus pressure could mean an excruciatingly painful migraine, I’m sure I’d be reaching for the Sudafed sooner rather than later.
I do my second solo breathing exercise of the day. My sinuses are basically clear. The sore throat now seems to have receded, but I am wary of it returning because the symptoms of this thing seem to wax and wane. In any case, my main symptom at this point is low energy.
In the later afternoon, I feel pretty terrible. Any physical exertion is taxing. I’m getting those pressure fluctuations or electrical pulses.
We get Indian delivery for dinner. The spices are welcome.
If I’m honest, I feel pretty awful. Like that point of awfulness where you’re not sure if you will just sink like a stone now, or bounce back. Like that point in the battle when the enemy’s advance puts fear into you. The door breaks from the battering ram. They’re in the central courtyard now.
I spend the evening distracting myself by listening to the podcast “You’re Dead to Me” and watching movies. I watched the first 3/4 of Hello, Dolly! on day one.
So I watch the last 1/4 of Hello, Dolly! and cry through the scenes. Because the movie is a masterpiece. Because Walter Matthau is dead. Because after two years of this, I want to feel alive again—before the parade passes by.
Before the parade passes by
I’ve gotta get some life back into my life
To ensure a good night’s sleep, I take two Naproxen Sodium tablets and my usual Magnesium Bisgycinate and L-Theanine, plus a throat-numbing cough drop.
I imagine Matthau opening Lemmon’s supplement cabinet. “What do we have here? Magensium Bisglycinate? What in the hell is Magnesium Bisglycinate? L-Theanine? Hey, what kind of operation are you running here?”
And Lemmon, giving him that dismissive wave of both hands. “Ah, whatayouknow!”
In my next post, I will share the notes I took on Covid Day 7. If that might be helpful to you or someone you know, please subscribe and share.
Brainwave is an informational resource for people whose symptoms haven’t resolved after a concussion or mTBI. I aim to present this information in a clear and concise way, spelling out what’s backed by science and what remains unknown. Nothing here is meant as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. I am not a physician or a healthcare practitioner of any kind; I’ve had a lot of sports-related concussions and had to learn this stuff the hard way. If you found this information helpful or know someone who might benefit from it, please share and subscribe to Brainwave.