On a Monday morning in Irvine, Courtney Garvin eats her breakfast in bed prepared by her partner before leaving for work.

She finishes and heads to the bathroom. She sits down to brush her teeth and wash her face.

From there, she takes her longest walk of the day: 25 steps to her unused office, where she gets into bed and starts knitting and petting her cat.

At lunchtime, she rides a lift—a motorized chair attached to a ladder—to the kitchen to eat lunch prepared by her partner, Connor Mayer. She puts the food in the microwave and sits down again.

Garvin, 37, contracted COVID-19 three years ago and now long COVIDa condition reported by approximately 15% of California adults, according to data compiled by Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. She and Mayer say their world has shrunk. She can no longer work.

“I didn’t expect to be in this situation for another 50 or 60 years where I lose so many functions and need constant care. Chronic illness takes away so many of life’s joys, both big and small,” Garvin wrote in an email. (Due to debilitating fatigue, some of Garvin’s interviews were conducted via email or Mayer spoke on his behalf.)

Mayer’s life has also completely changed.

Connor Mayer pushes his partner Courtney Garvin in a wheelchair as they go outside for some fresh air.

(Allen J. Cockroaches/Los Angeles Times)

In the morning when he works, he wakes up, makes coffee and goes for a run. He then makes her oatmeal and tea for breakfast, leaving them in thermoses to keep warm. He also prepares lunch and a cocktail for her. After making sure she has what she needs, he rides his bike to work. After 5:30 pm, he washes the dishes and prepares dinner.

She walks about 150 steps a day and takes a short walk around the neighborhood, she says, with Mayer pushing her in her wheelchair.

Garvin and Mayer said they shared their story in hopes of helping others understand the impact this disease has had on their lives.

“I don’t think anyone expects anything like this to happen to them, but here we are,” Mayer wrote in an email. “When we became ill with COVID in March 2020, we had no idea about the long-term risks associated with it. This sudden loss of independence was hard on both of us.”

A look at the medication Courtney Garvin is taking during her long fight against COVID.

(Allen J. Cockroaches/Los Angeles Times)

Prolonged COVID is a broad term used to describe multiple symptoms that can last weeks or longer after initial infection with COVID-19. These include circulation problems, shortness of breath, neurological problems, gastrointestinal problems, and fatigue, among others. The severity of symptoms and their impact on people’s daily lives can vary greatly.

Some people see symptoms improve over time while others get better and then some symptoms return.

V The CDC provided $25 million. continue to study the long COVID, and groups such as Patient-led collaborative research are working on research into the long-term effects of COVID-19.

While much of the population has begun to shake off the pandemic, people like Garvin are forced to deal with a complex medical system and a condition for which there are no known cures. Navigation in medicine, finance, mental and the physical problem of this disease is challenging.

Prior to falling ill in March 2020, Garvin worked as a storyboard artist and touring musician with Courtney, while Mayer was in graduate school. Mayer is now assistant professor in the Department of Linguistics at the University of California, Irvine. When he is not working, he constantly grooms Garvin and limits his social interactions to avoid reinfecting her.

Courtney Garvin used to play in several bands, but until she recovers from long COVID.

(Allen J. Cockroaches/Los Angeles Times)

Garvin stopped working in the fall of 2020 when fatigue, migraines and shortness of breath made it difficult for her to walk more than a few steps and speak more than a few words.

She became disabled and began seeing doctors, many of whom ignored her symptoms as her health continued to deteriorate. In the summer of 2021, she moved to Irvine where she was diagnosed with long-term COVID.

“The consistency of the experience of going to doctor after doctor, seeking help, distrust and indulgence really surprises me,” Garvin said. “This points to a major systemic problem in our culture when we view chronic illness as a moral failing.”

In addition to mental and physical issues, Garvin noted that infrastructure issues, such as a lack of wheelchair racks and a lack of automatic doors in doctors’ offices and the Department of Motor Vehicles, made her feel invisible.

Courtney Garvin first contracted COVID in March 2020.

(Allen J. Cockroaches/Los Angeles Times)

The couple live in a townhouse provided by the University of California, Irvine, which is considered compliant with the Americans with Disabilities Act, but the stairs in the house create difficulties for Garvin. After several phone calls to the housing authority, letters from doctors and insurance companies, the couple installed a stairlift, but paid for it out of their own pocket.

Garvin and Mayer spent about $62,000 on medical expenses, including compression stockings ($450), a stair lift ($2,750), support groups ($860), and co-payments ($3,300). They also spent countless hours in waiting rooms, waiting for doctors, and handling insurance and disability paperwork.

Post-viral diseases such as prolonged COVID, Not newbut some doctors in California are treating the long-standing COVID as a new phenomenon.

“It’s grim to think about how many lives could be changed for the worse because we didn’t understand the long-term consequences well enough to consider when considering preventative safety measures,” Mayer said.

Courtney Garvin takes a break walking down the stairs from her room upstairs while her partner Connor Meyer gets ready to help her with basic household chores.

(Allen J. Cockroaches/Los Angeles Times)

Dr. William W. Stringer, a pulmonologist and critical care physician who started a post-COVID program at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, is trying to better understand these long-term effects.

“I think there are a lot of people that specialists and doctors don’t recognize,” said Stringer, who has treated patients with some of the most severe long-term symptoms of COVID. “It’s also a huge financial issue, between the lack of social work and help with food and doctor visits.”

Mayer said he was disappointed that a serious health issue has low public awareness and sympathy. Near the end of the interview, Garvin said she was tired and asked Mayer to speak on her behalf.

“Strength is what I lack right now,” she said. “I’m completely exhausted.”

The test flight was canceled with just over eight minutes left on the countdown due to a stuck valve needed to pressurize the first stage booster. The launch controllers were unable to fix the frozen valve in time, but for practice they lowered the clock to the 40-second mark before stopping the countdown.

There were no people or satellites on board. There won’t be another attempt until at least Thursday.

“Learned a lot today,” Musk tweeted after the flight was delayed.

The company plans to use Starship to send people and cargo to the Moon and eventually Mars.

On the eve of the launch attempt, campers, SUVs, and even bicycles and horses filled the only road leading to the launch pad, where the stainless steel rocket towered over flat brush and prairie. Enthusiasts posed in front of the giant Starbase letters at the entrance to the SpaceX complex and in front of the rocket two miles down the road, which ended at a beach in the Gulf of Mexico.

On Monday, spectators were banned from the area and instead filled a beach about six miles from South Padre Island.

Ernesto and Maria Carreon drove two hours from Mission, Texas with their two daughters, ages 5 and 7, to watch.

“I felt sad. They became sad,” Maria Carreon said when the launch attempt was cancelled.

They can’t come back for another try, but plan to have some fun on the beach on Monday.

Michelle Vankampenhout, who is on vacation in Green Bay, Wisconsin, said she would return.

“Seeing this is a unique experience,” she said.

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When Ouchi, a handsome, heavily built, former high school rugby player with a wife and young son, arrived at the hospital, he did not yet look like a victim of intense radiation exposure.Slow death: 83 days of radiation sicknessa 2002 book by a group of Japanese NHK-TV journalists, later translated into English by Maho Harada. complained of pain in the ears and arm. The doctor who examined him even thought that he might be able to save his life.

But during the day, Ouchi’s condition worsened. He began to require oxygen, and, according to the book, his stomach swelled up. After he arrived at the Tokyo University Hospital, things went downhill. Six days after the accident, a specialist who looked at images of chromosomes in Ouchi’s bone marrow cells saw only scattered black dots, indicating that they had been broken into pieces. Ouchi’s body couldn’t generate new cells. A week after the accident, Ouchi received a peripheral blood stem cell transplant, and his sister volunteered to be a donor.

However, according to the book, Ouchi’s condition continued to deteriorate. He began to complain of thirst, and when the medical plaster was removed from his chest, the skin began to come off with it. He began to develop blisters. Tests showed that the radiation killed off the chromosomes that normally allowed his skin to regenerate, so that his epidermis, the outer layer that protected his body, gradually disappeared. The pain became intense. He also began to experience breathing problems. Two weeks after the accident, he could no longer eat and had to be fed intravenously. Two months after his ordeal, his heart stopped, although doctors managed to resuscitate him.

On December 21, at 11:21 pm, Ouchi’s body finally gave up. According to Lyman and Dolly’s article, he died of multiple organ failure. Japanese Prime Minister Keizo Obuchi issued a statement expressing condolences to the worker’s family and promising to improve nuclear safety measures. Japan Times.

Shinohara, Ouchi’s colleague, also died in April 2000 from multiple organ failure. Guardians.

The Japanese government concluded that the main causes of the accident were insufficient regulatory oversight, lack of a proper safety culture, and inadequate training and qualifications of workers, according to this April 2000 report. US Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Six officials of the company that operated the nuclear power plant were charged with professional negligence and violating nuclear safety laws. In 2003, the court sentenced them to a suspended prison sentence, and the company and at least one of the officials were also fined. Sydney Morning Herald.