On Monday night, my left knee started to swell up. It quickly became very painful to walk, and by Tuesday morning I was confined to the couch. My husband and I worried about how to best take care of the kids with me unable to walk.

I decided it was necessary to brave going to see my doctor. It was creepy driving to her office. I passed by my gym and our favorite diner, both deserted. When I walked into the office building, I was greeted by a woman in scrubs and a mask who said she had to check my temperature first. I mentally questioned the usefulness of this screening process, because I’ve heard that for many people with COVID-19, a fever is not the first symptom. But I passed the test (98 degrees exactly; I tend to run cool) and was allowed to knock on the door to my doctor’s office. (It was locked because people have been wandering in off the street, apparently. Which is weird, because I didn’t see a single other patient while I was there.)

My doctor is always reassuring. I love her because she’s both honest and optimistic. When she saw my knee, she thought it was likely a spider bite. This explained the sudden onset, although I never saw the spider. But she also sent me for blood work to eliminate other possibilities. I’ll get some results back today.

I hope it is a spider bite, because at least that’s not a long-term problem. It’s painful for now, though. I’m on antibiotics that should help fight infection, at least, but there’s not much to do with the bite itself besides wait for it to go away. It couldn’t be in a worse spot, right on my kneecap. It hurts every time I put weight on it.

I have to admit it’s been a challenge to keep my spirits up. My kids have been understanding (though disappointed) that I can’t play with them the way I usually do, and my husband has been taking care of my usual chores. But more time on the couch and less stress-relieving exercise is sending my mind into darker places. I keep wondering what will happen if one of us gets COVID-19. How bad will it get? Will there be enough medical care available? Will we be able to take care of each other? It’s very, very scary.

I have to acknowledge these fears out loud, because my default mode for crisis is staying calm, pretending everything is fine, and not thinking too far in the future. But the fears are still there, and if I don’t voice them, they’ll come out eventually in a more dramatic way.

How are you all doing, mental-health wise?