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...

Christmas 2020

 

November 27, 2020

 It's November 27, eight months and a couple of weeks since the lockdown in March.  Thirteen million people have had COVID-19.  Over 268,000 people have died from it.  We are in our second or third, depending on who you ask, spike.  There are nearly 100,000 new cases and between 1,000-1,500 deaths each day.  

Masks are mandated in Kentucky and most states, but many people disregard this or wear them as chin straps with their noses hanging out.

Schools shut down a second time in November if they reopened at all in August.  Some, like JCPS, never went back to in-person instruction.  I have no idea how kids are learning anything.  

Restaurants and bars are also closed again to in-person dining.  We didn't eat out a lot before, but I miss being able to go sit in a restaurant with Kirk or my friends and have a meal and talk.  We ate out some in the summer, when we could sit outside, socially distanced from other diners, but it's too cold now.  Some restaurants put up heaters or these little igloo-like pods, but I don't see how it's going to work in December and January.

Congress has failed to pass another stimulus bill, and the protections from things like evictions and student loan payments ends on December 26.  I think that the elected representatives in Washington are pathetic.  People are going to lose their homes and businesses if Congress doesn't act.  It's all partisan and they need to get their heads out of their asses and work together to find some way to keep people out of the chaos that is going to come if they don't do something.  It's pathetic really.

Supplies are hit and miss depending on the day.  Kroger and Costco were totally out of toilet paper again last week.  Nine days out of 10, you can't find Clorox wipes if your life depended on it.  Pasta is thin some days as is any other odd item on the shelves in the grocery.  I have stash of things in the basement and in the freezer...canned goods, pasta, cereal, cooking oil, salt, chicken breasts, frozen fruit and vegetables, toilet paper, paper towels, and napkins, cleaning supplies...I had been keeping milk and bread frozen too, but I've gotten away from that.  I pick up stuff we might need every time I go to the store, and it's in stock.  I think I have enough toilet paper to last awhile.

Knock on wood, none of us have gotten sick.  I told Anne the other day that I feel like I'm in a game of dodge ball, and so far, the ball has missed me, but the longer the game goes on, the more anxiety I feel about being hit.  There is a vaccine on the way, and I tell myself that we just have to keep holding on for a few months longer.  I still feel like I'm playing Russian roulette, and one day, it will be my turn.

I'll be driving down the road or peeling potatoes, and all of a sudden, I'll think, "I'm living through a pandemic.  A pandemic.  I'm living through a pandemic."  It's crazy to think about.  Like this is a major world event.  It's historical.  It will be a seminal event in history, and I'm living through it.  It's so weird when I contemplate that.  I can't get my head around it. 

We just celebrated Thanksgiving.  We probably had too many people at our house.  We had Kyle, Macey, Claire, Michael, Emily, and Brendan and Kirk and me.  I had to trust that everyone was careful and COVID-free, but I'm anxious now and am waiting on pins and needles to see if anyone gets sick.  I don't think they will, but that's what everybody says.

I miss normal so much.

The Beach

The first time my soles of my feet hit the soft, white sand at the beach, I think, "I'm home!"  I love the feel of it underfoot, how it caresses my toes and warms my skin.  I love how it gives way as I walk across it, making me slow down a little and breathe in the salt air.  I love digging my feet down in it when I'm sitting under my umbrella watching the waves.  I even like how it finds its way into everything from my shoes to my beach bag to the book that I'm reading.  It's so comforting, and I always bring some home with me.

On my last trip to the beach, I spent many hours walking along the shore.  I always look for shells when I walk, hoping to find the perfect specimens.  I rarely do. How often have I rejected a shell that has a hole or a chip in it?  I love the tiny versions of olives and cat's eyes and whelks.  I love ones that are colorful and those without a nick or a scratch, that still shine even when they're not wet.  Sometimes I'm lucky; usually I'm not.

Mostly I find common, ordinary shells, with broken pieces, worn from years of being tumbled by the waves, crashing on other shells, getting stepped on by beach walkers like me, dropped from the sky by the gulls looking for food.  There are whole sections of these kinds of shells on the beach.  They are hard to walk on.  They poke and offend tender feet with their sharp points and breaks.  Kirk tries to avoid them, but I like to stop and look down and see the beauty in the brokenness.  

There is another level of shells that are simply tiny pieces on their way to becoming sand.  They are mostly just a layer of colors.  They don't hurt to walk on, and you can tell that they've been through the ocean mill for a long time.  

As I walked this last trip, I got to know the rhythm of the tides and paid attention to the different layers of the beach.  All these layers make up the beach.  The cycle is never-ending, and those shells that are perfect now, will be sand one day.  We always look for the perfect, the beautiful, the rare find that has no flaws.  They are hard to come by. More often than not, we are, and are surrounded by, those that are broken, that hurt, that are tumbled by life's waves over and over.  The ones we wish were whole, but who are beautiful in their own way.  We encounter those who have been worn by life, tiny pieces of the original, but going with the flow, becoming that soft, warm sand that we all love to feel, finding their way into unexpected places of our lives, reminding us to slow down, relax, and breathe.

                                          

Coronavirus: Day 4,297

Okay, maybe the title is being a little hyperbolic, but, damn!  I am sick. of. this.  I am sick of wearing masks. I am sick of MAKING masks.  I am sick of my dining room being a sewing room.  I am sick of feeling anxious if I cough or sneeze in public.  I am sick of worrying when someone around me coughs or sneezes.  I am sick of having to wipe down carts at Kroger and Target before I use them.  I am sick of having to wait in my car until it's time to go in for an appointment.  I'm sick of having my temperature taken.  I'm sick of not seeing people's smiles.  I'm sick of having to raise my voice to be heard while wearing a mask.  I am sick of not being able to go out to eat and sit inside.  I'm sick of squirting hand sanitizer on my hands every time I leave a store.  I am sick of not seeing Claire.  I am sick of not being able to go into my sisters' houses without a mask on.  I am sick of worrying if school will be moved to virtual.  I am sick of not going to the movies and the theatre. I am sick of seeing empty store shelves.  I am sick of missing everything that I'm missing.

That sounds so pathetic, really.  I'm not being asked to do much at all.  I think back to times in history when people were made to ration food and gas and shoes.  I think about letters my grandmother wrote about being able to get some good cuts of meat or soap (toilet paper, anyone?).  I think that sacrificing what little we are being asked to sacrifice is really no big deal.  My kids are safe.  They haven't been drafted to fight a war.  We still have our house and a nice life.  I can still buy pretty much anything I want/need.  But, god, this sucks.  And no end in sight.  Regular flu season on the horizon.  Cold weather coming.  At least now, we can enjoy being outside.  What happens when it's 28*?

Added to this stress is all of the racial unrest in the country and especially Louisville right now.  I am sick of that too, if I'm being honest.  In May, protesters, rioters, destroyed downtown.  Windows were smashed, buildings were tagged, benches and urns and signs were overturned.  People tried to set the Hall of Justice on fire.  Since then, stores have been looted.  Streets have been blocked.  People from out of town have come here with guns and threatened to burn our city down.  This week, we've seen on social media that we should expect massive protests, especially on Tuesday, with cars blocking the interstate, and demonstrations at the mayor's house, the state attorney general's house, and a developer's house (why the developer, I have no idea.)  

The state attorney general lives the next neighborhood over from me, maybe 1/4 mile as the crow flies.  When they protested there a few weeks ago, we could see the news helicopters circling around filming everything.  Our main thoroughfare was blocked by traffic going the wrong way.  I was afraid it would turn into a riot and people would come into our neighborhood and start tearing things up.

I am afraid in my city now.  I am so tired of being afraid.

I see the need for police reform.  I see the issues with social justice and racial bias.  I have been volunteering at the Kroger on 26th and Broadway every Saturday since the first week of June helping to pass out food and then organizing a free children's book give-away.  I started voter registration last week.  I am trying to make a positive difference in people's lives.

But I can't protest.  I can't support the chanting, "Fuck the police" and throwing bottles of urine at them.  I think some of the demands of some of the protesters are ridiculous.  I have family members who are police, and seeing people acting so ugly to them really upsets me.  

Again, I'm tired of living in fear.

Then there's the upcoming presidential election. I just can't even consider the idea of another four years of donald trump.  It makes my anxiety ratchet through the roof.

I don't sleep well.  I have crazy dreams.  I am grumpy and short with people.  My attention span is shot to hell.  I feel like I have PTSD.  I probably do in some respect.  I get nothing done.  I sit outside and try to enjoy my garden.  It is one of the few things that gives me pleasure.  I dread when everything dies and it's bleak all winter.  Ugh.  What a horrible decade 2020 has been!

My backyard garden, the one thing that gives me joy right now