Testing positive for Covid-19 is something most people think won't happen to them, but when it does, how does it feel?

A Tauranga resident is sharing his account of being the first person he knows in New Zealand to test positive for the virus.

With case numbers increasing each day, more and more people will soon know someone with Covid-19.

We all know everyone has a different experience with Covid-19 and below is one person's account of getting the virus.

"Knowing someone personally who has Covid-19 is rare in New Zealand. In fact, I didn't know a single person across the nation who had tested positive for Covid-19 until yesterday.

Now, I know one person. Me.

I guess it started on Monday. I hadn't had a drink all year but decided to treat myself to just the four beers whilst watching the Israel Adesanya UFC card. I simply can't watch Tai Tuivasa without getting refreshments in.

The next morning I felt ropey but swiftly dismissed it. Whilst I was once an oafish binge drinker this was now a rare occurrence. Perhaps my tolerance has plummeted - not to mention the Domino's Pizza I had alongside.

The feeling passed and I woke up feeling fine on Tuesday.

But as the day dragged on, my body started to ache. My mouth was dry and I found it impossible to nourish. I kept drinking water but could not quench my thirst. My eyes were falling shut at my desk and my brain was fogged over. By 3.30 pm, I gave up trying to do any real work as it was proving impossible to focus.

Zombiefied, I finished at 5 and headed home. Football training was in an hour. I figure I would give it a go. It might help. I started getting my kit together when the spectral thought I had been ignoring suddenly popped into my head.

'Is this? Could this be? Do I have Covid?”

I admonished myself.

'Don't be such a hypochondriac,” I told myself. 'Always going to the worst-case scenario. You are a little bit stressed and overdid it at the weekend. You're not 25 anymore. No way. Surely not. I don't know anyone in New Zealand who has had Covid.”

I didn't go to football. I tucked myself in for the night and took the next two days off work, getting tested at the Baypark station on Wednesday.

Considering we are two years into a global pandemic and this was my first test is probably a sign we did some things right down here. Back in the UK, a friend is approaching test number 200 and has tasted all three variants of the Covid smorgasbord.

In terms of symptoms, it is hard to explain. One thing I would say is that it is unlike anything I have ever felt before. I have had worse, I have had better. But definitely nothing like this.

For those of you looking for a rundown, here we go.

Sore throat. Headache. Nausea. Swollen glands. Muscle aches. Joint pain. Runny nose. Nosebleed.

Fatigue. Above all else. Tiredness. I could not stop falling asleep. Any pause in movement, my body would try to shut down. My eyelids were in a constant state of opening and shutting, like an accordion playing a lullaby.

On Sunday, the call came from Public Health. I had tested positive.

By the time I was informed I had Covid it appears I have gotten past the worst of it. My age, relatively good health and a double dose of Pfizer, undoubtedly, helped.

So how do I feel now, with only a nagging headache and the occasional wave of potentially psychosomatic symptoms remaining?

Weirdly, I feel validated. I was right to jump to the Covid conclusion. On Wednesday, I was due to interview an Olympic bronze medalist along with a group of school kids. I was also supposed to meet with the local bridge club operators. I guess I prevented those exposure events.

My only regret is not putting the pieces together earlier. All my colleagues who were in the office Monday and Tuesday are now close contacts.

But there is also relief. It is somewhat appeasing to have an explanation for an odd combination of symptoms I had never felt before.

The other feeling I have, seeing as I do not appear to be under any existential threat (as much as my anxiety tells me otherwise), is that of invasion.

This novel disease, just two years old, has broken in. Whilst it seems I am well on course for a full recovery, not much is yet known about Covid's long-term impact. Knowing the way I doomscroll my body for any change in function means I will no doubt have lingering anxiety over any potential residual damage. It does feel somewhat alien.

It's suddenly an odd feeling seeing the daily case numbers in New Zealand, those that are steadily rising, and realising you are one of them.

Some will shrug it off. Some will have a rougher few days than me. Some will get really ill. Some will end up in hospital and, sadly, just by the sheer maths of it, some will die.

I am fortunate. It is likely I got Omicron, a seemingly milder version of the disease. I also have the benefit of getting Covid two years into the pandemic, thanks to New Zealand's response.

That means I am fully vaccinated, with a booster due (I was supposed to get my top-up on Friday but this has now been delayed). What a privileged position that is. Like playing Wordle with another tab open, searching for words that begin with C and end in D - with a V in there somewhere.

A completely different scenario to those caught in the first wave, playing without cheat codes, stepping into the cage on a day's notice to fight an unknown beast.

For all of the above, I am thankful.

If I have any advice. Get tested. Get boosted. Stay at home. The worst feeling has been guilt. The thought I might have infected someone else at work, at home, or the poor bloke at the petrol station.

If you do get ill. Listen to your body. Sleep when you're sleepy. Eat when you're hungry. Drink when you're thirsty. Watch trash. Shower long. Feet up. Whatever works for you, works for you. Treat yourself with kindness.

It's a weird feeling, being the only person I know in New Zealand to have had Covid-19. In a way, it makes me kind of special. Forever the narcissist.

Unfortunately, it is a solo club that will soon grow. With, in my opinion, misguided protests in Wellington becoming an occupation this has served as a sledgehammer-subtle reminder. Covid is very real, trust me, and will one day entangle itself into all of our lives.

For now, more sleep, and the promise of chip shop chips once my isolation ends.

Thankfully, of all the symptoms I had to bear, my sense of taste remains."