Ode to Covid 19
Oh you sneaky pandemic. You crept up on my family like fog on little cat’s feet. We heard about you on the news but one can’t always take the news seriously. When we started to take you seriously and wear masks while shopping, you gave us our first real hardship. Our stores ran out of toilet paper.
Ok, so if we looked hard enough we could find generic tissue but we were spoiled with the extra soft variety. The generic (how should I say this?) rubbed us the wrong way. Then the hand sanitizer disappeared from the shelves. One day it was the pasta. It began to be like a game to find out what was missing next. Recently they were almost out of Spam. Spam! Who would have thought? When the stores started restocking goods, they put restrictions on how many one could buy at a time. Are they serious? We can buy only one box of Kleenex?
We were aware that you were getting more and more people sick. My sweetheart and I are in our mid 70’s approaching old age so we stayed home with limited trips to the grocery store and the occasional take-out order.
Now we are introduced to video visits with our doctors. First up is my appointment with my Urologist. Can there be a prostrate exam over a video chat? My mind wanders. Could such a thing even be legal? My worry was unfounded as we merely discussed my case and made an in person appointment. I was going to see a doctor mask to mask.
But first I had to prove my health to the appointment desk. Next I had to verify it over a text message. I was greeted at the door to the clinic with a staff member wielding a thermometer and a bottle of hand sanitizer. Finally I saw the doctor and had minor surgery scheduled. On my way out I notice another victim of yours, the coffee shop is closed. I drive home espresso-less.
Before my surgery I arrive at a clinic for a drive-thru Covid test. I lower my mask enough to let them shove swabs up my nose. It is negative. After the surgery, I have to spend one night alone in the hospital which is mask heaven. I can remove mine to have meals and take meds.
Two months later I have another Covid test and self-quarantine before shoulder surgery and another night alone in the hospital wearing a mask. I am told I can’t drive a car for six weeks. Thanks to you I have nowhere to go anyhow.
I am not naïve. I know there are people sick and dying because of you.
People are losing their jobs and businesses. Families are being torn apart not able to visit loved ones. I realize I am a whiny baby for complaining about some minor inconveniences.
I carry on knowing there will be a tomorrow.