Writing by Grant Lancaster | Photographs by Matt Newey

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH: On March 18, an earthquake woke me up. I had been feeling weak and unmotivated ever since my friends and I got back from a ski trip in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, but I just thought I was sore from the exercise. I took shelter from the quake with my mom, dad and sister, not thinking about how close we were getting.

Later that day, I was lucky enough to have a scheduled doctor’s check-up. After telling him my symptoms, he tested me for the flu - negative. Then the big one, the COVID-19 test, positive.

I was Utah’s 78th confirmed case of COVID-19. I prepared to quarantine myself in my parents’ basement for at least a full week.

Over the next few days, I had trouble breathing, like someone was sitting on my chest, and burning sinuses, like I had just sprinted a mile in the cold. I learned that all four of my friends from the ski trip had also tested positive.

After a week, the symptoms reached their peak, with a cough that racked my lungs and kept me up all night. My eyes were bloodshot and watery, sending tears streaming down my cheeks. There were painful hives on my arm and chest.

The oddest symptom was that I lost my sense of taste and smell. I could eat a whole lemon without puckering and couldn’t smell perfume or garlic. The doctors I’ve talked to said that it could be the result of brain swelling.

After the seventh day, my symptoms started to fade. I chose to stay in isolation for two full weeks, eventually emerging from the basement, desperate to see a sunset. I drove out to the Great Salt Lake and watched the seagulls float gracefully in the rosy sunset. It was such a relief.

Weeks later, I still feel like my lungs aren’t able to get a full breath, and I still can’t taste or smell. It’s discouraging, but I decided that the best thing I can do now that I’ve recovered is run errands like grocery trips for the elderly and those at risk.