We Are All in This Together

Honda Odysseys.  Dodge Grand Caravans.  Kia Sorrentos.  Toyota Camrys.  Police cars.  Work vans.  Ford F-150s. Teaching is a Work of Heart.  I'm a Teacher...What's your superpower? "Oh my gosh!  How ARE you?"  30A.  Biden/Harris 2020.  Bernie.  Trump.  Black Lives Matter.  The Thin Blue Line.  "I haven't seen you for months!"  I Love My Dog.  Isle of Palms.  Amelia Island.  "I've missed you so much!"  Stick Dad, Mom, Son, Daughter, Son, Dog, Dog, Cat.  Rainbows.  =.  Choose Life. 45. TYB. Bearcats. Lions. Falcons. Wrestling. Soccer. Football. Army Mom. Semper Fi. Team Kentucky. COEXIST...

They kept coming, the cars.  Each one carrying a person or two who had just gotten the first of two Covid vaccine shots.  Most were teachers and school employees.  Some were first responders.  A few were elderly.  All were excited.  

Windows rolled down. "Hey!!!" they shouted.  Coworkers who hadn't seen each other in months chatted excitedly across a line of cars while they waited the required 15 minutes after getting the first dose of the vaccine.  People took selfies of their bandaided arms or their vaccine cards to post on social media.  They called friends and families with, "I got it!"

I walked the lanes, knocking on windows to get people's attention, pulling them away from their cell phones, telling them to move up to the next spot;  breaking up conversations between friends because the car in front had pulled up, and they had to as well.  Conversations reluctantly ended with, "See you soon, I hope!"

Police cars parked next to cars with BLM stickers on the bumper.  Trump supporters next to Bernie fans.  I started paying attention to the drivers and what I thought their cars and their bumper stickers said about them.  I decided that in this moment, it ultimately didn't matter.  Every single person in line was there for the same reason: protection against a universal threat...the coronavirus.

I wandered through the cars thinking about the moment we were all in.  How we are all desperate to get back to normal yesterday.  How we long for life without masks, where we can see each other's smiles.  How we want our kids back in school complaining about homework.  How we want to go out to eat and to the movies and concerts and have birthday parties and cookouts and go on spring break and to football games.  How we can't wait for everything we've missed these last ten months but how we know it's going to be at least that much longer until we can start to see the tiniest bit of normal back in our lives.  And damn, that seems like forever.

We ARE all in this together. I said a silent prayer of thanks for the scientists working feverishly in faraway labs to come up with a vaccine. For those brave souls who were part of the test groups to see if the vaccines actually worked.  For the people in the factories manufacturing the doses.  The FedEx and UPS workers transporting the vials to their destinations.  The local public health officials organizing distribution sites.  The nurses and doctors administering the shots.  People like me volunteering with the very mundane jobs of moving cars up and up and up in line until they are finally free to go.  

In my mind, it's a big set of gears up in the sky; big cogs connected to smaller cogs, connected to even smaller cogs, all working together to get us back to normal.  I have 20 more hours to volunteer before I can get my own vaccine. My motivation for helping isn't totally altruistic.  But as I stood there on those cold mornings last week watching humanity pass by me, the magnitude of what I was part of was overwhelming.  It is an honor to be even the tiniest little cog in this huge machine of human ingenuity.  I am proud to say that I helped.

For future reference...https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/02/03/multimedia/virus-vaccine-kentucky.html?action=click&module=Top%20Stories&pgtype=Homepage&fbclid=IwAR3FJs4j-kMdXpu0nylhwHWoZn6iLYJ4jXYhRqXSeOQw2UwE8OVkl_hAHSI

Killeen to Louisville to Killeen...A Roadtrip Story

My dad was turning 60, and I was going to miss his birthday. My fiancee was stationed at Ft. Hood, Texas, and I had recently moved there from Louisville, Kentucky where my parents still lived.  Even though it was President's Day weekend, it was too far to drive for a long weekend, and I didn't have the money to fly home. Kirk and I had written and illustrated a book for Dad's big 6-0, an allegory about all the life lessons I'd learned from gardening with my dad each summer, and I longed to be there when he opened it.

I was moping around the house when Kirk came home from work  He could tell I was sad.  "Let's go out to eat," he said, trying to cheer me up.  

"What's the matter?" he asked over dinner.  "Homesick?" 

I had missed my first Christmas, and now I was going to miss my dad's birthday party with the whole family.  My aunt was even flying in from Boston.  "Yeah," I replied dejectedly, 'I just want to go home for Dad's party."

He was quiet for a minute and then said, "Well, then let's go! We can surprise him for his birthday!"

"We can't drive to Kentucky for the weekend!" I protested.

"Why not?" he asked. "If we leave right now and drive all night, we can be there tomorrow afternoon.  Imagine your mom's face when she sees us!"

I couldn't believe he was serious.  Drive to Kentucky overnight?  We'd get there on Saturday afternoon and then have leave right after the party on Sunday afternoon in order to get home in time to work on Tuesday morning. I tried to reason with him that it couldn't be done.

"Why not?" my very persuasive fiancee asked again.  "It'll be fun!"

Thirty minutes later, we were pulling onto Hwy 190E on our way to Louisville.

The miles ticked by.  We passed through Waco, Dallas, Texarkana, plotting our route on the AAA map my dad had given me when I moved to Texas a year earlier.  I-35 turned into I-30 and then I-40.  We sang along with our favorite music, happy to have a CD player in our new Beretta.  They Might Be Giants and Crowded House became our goto travel music from that trip on. We drank cups and cups of bad convenience store coffee and ate a bag or two of sunflower seeds to stay awake.  I tried to sleep when Kirk was driving, but I was half afraid he'd fall asleep at the wheel, so I didn't rest well.  He could sleep standing up in a bowling alley, so he was out as soon as I took over.  We stopped in a rest area at some point in the wee hours and took a cat nap, even though we knew it wasn't really a safe thing to do.

The sun was rising as we closed in on Memphis.  I remember the rays shining from behind the buildings and thinking, "I'm going to be home today!"  We stopped at a Waffle House for pancakes and fresh coffee then continued on our way.  When we crossed the Kentucky state line, my heart soared, but those final 150 miles lasted as long as the first 800.  

We wanted to make sure my parents were home when we pulled in, so we stopped first at our neighbor's house a street over to use their phone.

"Hey, Mom," I said trying to add to the coming surprise, "Kirk and I are heading to an early dinner and then a movie this afternoon.  I wish we could be there tomorrow, but I'll call during the party, okay?"

"We'll miss you, but of course we understand," she replied.  "Have fun at the movies!"

I don't know if it was all the coffee I'd consumed the last 16 hours or if I was just that excited, but my stomach was in knots as we drove the two blocks to their house and knocked on the back door.

Mom's face when she opened the door was one of shock and confusion as if she couldn't get her brain around what she was seeing.

"Well, Sharron," she exclaimed, "I just talked to you!  You said you were going to the movies!"

Then it dawned on her that we were really there, standing on her patio grinning from ear to ear, and she flew down the back steps and swept us up in a crushing hug.

The next 24 hours are mostly a blur, and I'm glad I have photographs to remind me of it.  I took a nap before dinner and slept longer the next day than I'd wanted.  I got to be there when Dad opened his book and watched him wipe a tear or two as I read it aloud to him.  

We had dinner, sang "Happy Birthday," ate some cake and ice cream and headed on our way.

The drive home wasn't quite as fun as the drive there.  We were starting out tired, leaving again at night, but this time in a pouring rain.  I cried for awhile and then dozed off, asleep when we crossed into Tennessee.  Sometime after midnight, somewhere in Arkansas, we just couldn't stay awake any longer.  We pulled into a motel in a town whose name I don't remember and fell into bed.  Exhaustion and sadness bringing blissful, dreamless sleep.

Late Monday afternoon, we pulled into our driveway, and I called home to let my parents know we had made it back safely to Killeen.

"I can't believe you drove all that way!  You shouldn't have!  It was too far," my mom said.  "But I'm so glad we got to see you!"

I couldn't believe it either. We had driven to Louisville and back in just under 72 hours, spending more time on the road than we did with my parents, but I was so glad we had done it and had been there for my dad's big day.  

I'm the same age now as my mom was on that February Saturday 29 years ago and just a few years younger than my dad, and they've been gone many years now.  With age and time, I realize it was too far, and we probably should not have done it.  No cell phones...No GPS...Driving all night...Returning already tired...But I'm so glad we did.  I'm glad I listened to Kirk, threw caution to the wind, and hit the road.

Covid...Day 5

This morning, I got up late, around 8:30.  Our bedroom door was shut, so I thought Kirk might be asleep.  I came downstairs and didn't see the cord he usually has running from the internet to the basement, AND I didn't smell coffee, so I figured he was still in bed.  Then I walked into the kitchen and saw that there WAS a pot brewed.  I went over to smell it, and, surprise!  I didn't smell coffee.  I smelled something, but it wasn't freshly brewed coffee.  I scratched the skin of an orange.  I could smell it, but it seemed far away.  I took the lid off a bottle of cleaner with bleach and could smell the bleach, but, again, far away.  

Uh oh.  

I went ahead and made some oatmeal with blueberries.  I thought a little maple syrup would be tasty in it.  I could taste the sweet, but I couldn't smell the maple.  I brushed my teeth and could feel the "hot" of the peppermint but couldn't really smell it.  I cut up an apple for lunch and could taste the sweet, but again, I couldn't smell the apple.

So, I'm thinking I'm on my way to losing my taste and smell altogether.  It's weird.  Eating the apple was like eating something that is underripe and hasn't gotten its flavor yet.  

My neck aches. and I feel tired.  I'm also cold, but I'm not running a fever.  I don't feel like doing anything but laying around.  I may just do that.

UPDATE:  My Covid test from Saturday just came back negative, so I don't know what the hell is going on.

Covid...Day Three

 Still feeling okay.  I walked to The Little Clinic today for a Covid test.  The NP said my lymph nodes were swollen.  I told her I thought so because my neck is stiff.  I have a tiny bit of drainage and am a little tired.  So far, so good.

Kirk is coughing some.  Can't smell or taste.  We are still separated until I know for sure that I am also infected.

What is scary is not knowing what's coming.  Some of my friends have had no issues.  One friend has been sick for 16 days, another for 2 weeks.  Two friends died.  It's just so scary to wait and not know what to expect.

Claire facetimed me today.  She and Michael were standing in front of a tree.  I thought they were hiking, then she turned the camera, and I could see the Hick's house behind her.  They had brought us vegan "chick'n" (tofu) noodle soup, tomato soup, stuff for grilled cheese sandwiches, vegan cheesecake, orange sherbet, popsicles, an essential oil roller, and a rice sock with lavender from her plants in it.  I've had it on my neck since she left.  It was so sweet of her, and I felt so bad that they drove all that way for nothing.

So, I'll keep my fingers crossed that this is as bad as it gets.

Covid...Day Two

 So I'm pretty sure I have Covid.  I have some congestion and feel pre-achy, like I'm getting the flu and will feel like crap in a few hours.  If Covid wasn't a thing, I'd be sure was getting the flu.  I'm chilled but not having chills, and I just want to snuggle on the couch under a blanket.  I may do that after I finish this.

Last night, I slept in Emily's room, and Kirk stayed in our room.  I slept pretty well and woke up feeling fine.  As the day has progressed, however, that's changing.  

So I'm going to make myself a cup of hot tea and rest.  I'll post more later if anything changes.

Covid...Day One

 So the day I've been planning for since March has arrived...Kirk has COVID-19.

Claire wanted to come home for a few days, so we got tested on Tuesday like we always do before seeing one another.  Kirk has had a little congestion and a bit of a sore throat the past few days, but he blamed it on all the talking he's been doing on the phone while being in the basement.  I felt lethargic on Monday, but I'd worked a 15 hour day on Friday, and I figured I was still catching up after an exhausting day.  Neither one of us thought we were sick.

I got a negative result yesterday.  Kirk thought he would get his yesterday too, but they didn't post.  This morning, he got the call from The Little Clinic that his test was positive.  

So now we quarantine.  

We've been really careful.  We hardly go out.  We wear masks everywhere we do go.  Where did we get it?  No idea.  Kroger?  The physical therapist?  Work?  We will probably never know.

We have everything we need.  I have plenty of food in the freezer and downstairs on the shelves.  I ordered some fresh fruit and vegetables from Click-List today and picked them up contact free.  We shouldn't have to go out again for the next 10 days.  If we need anything, Colleen can drop it off.  I'm not worried about that.

We called the kids.  Kyle and Macey had been here last week, and he had come by on Sunday for a few minutes.  They are now working from home and will get tested on Monday.  We only saw Emily in the driveway when she got home from Florida on Sunday, so she's good (and to think we were worried about her being the one to get Covid!)  We haven't seen Claire since Christmas, so she's good.  They are all concerned.

It's a weird feeling.  Now that I know I've been exposed for real, and living with a person who has tested positive is for real, it feels inevitable.  I wiped down all the appliances, door handles, remote, etc, but I don't think there's any way I won't get it.  Just this morning, I poured myself a cup of coffee.  Kirk hadn't left me a full cup, and I called him out on it.  Instead of putting water in the pot and brewing enough to fill my mug, he poured some of his into my mug to top it off.  Fifteen minutes later, after I'd finished the coffee, we got the call.  

We've slept in the same bed, used the same bathroom, touched the remote, kissed goodnight...

And so I wonder is my throat feeling like it's getting sore?  Is my neck a little achy?  Do my sinuses feel off?  Or is it all psychosomatic?  And if we do have Covid, how bad will it get?  Some people get really sick.  Some end up in the hospital.  Some die. Some just feel a little bad.  Which one will we be?

Stay tuned...