Thursday, December 31, 2020

The Covid Year

It was February 2020.

The husband walked in the door each night at 3 AM.
He was working an oddball swing shift schedule.
Somewhere between half awake and somewhat asleep I'd yell out,

"Are you sick yet?"
"Do you feel ok?"

He didn't have to ask how I felt.
The coughing told the story, which was normal for this time of year.
It was the usual tickle cough that annoys the husband, keeps him awake and seems to last for weeks.
Every year or three, this is the routine, for me.
I headed to the guest bedroom so he could sleep.
I really didn't want the husband to catch whatever
it was I 

I spent a week-ish on the sofa. 
My energy was, for certain, sapped.
Perhaps, I briefly had fever. Maybe.
Perhaps, I felt a bit short of breath. Probably.
The urgent care doctor and the x-rays said it was most likely bronchitis.
I took the meds. Maybe they helped. Some.

It was February 2020.
This is what we thought.  

The weeks progressed and I eventually returned to being completely, probably, healthy.  But by then, our daily life had been upended.  Our work schedules had been drastically changed.  The toilet paper and the flour and the yeast and the blue Top Ramen were missing from the grocery store. Both kids moved back home. The college boy brought with him a 3 pack of Lysol wipes that he had yet to use.  We hoarded them like they were gold. 

And masks. 

We have them now. Sigh.

We joked about this being made into a movie.
We thought it would be short lived.
It was just a hiccup.
The precautions,
and the lockdowns.
Temporary, of course.
We hoped.

It was not.

It is now 10 months later.  
This will definitely be made into movie.
My February "bronchitis" might have been the Covid.
One kid is still at home; the other kid is back home 
for an extended winter break from college.
The husband and I are both essential workers.   
He solves big problems. I help feed the school children.

We wear masks the whole day.

And yet, we still go on. Luckier than many.
We still look for the good in every day.
Usually we find it.

I suppose this shall be temporary.
Someday we will look back.
Shaking our heads, saying, 
"Can you believe that really happened?"

We hope.

Fingers crossed. 

Knock on wood.

Monday, April 27, 2020


Once upon a time, the husband and I experienced a bit of a hardship. * (see below)

Oh, I tell ya, we were stuck in a calamity,
our misfortune was most evident
and our suffering was clear

It began with the happiest time homeowners can experience:  the day the new carpet gets installed. The carpet installing men and women banged quite a lot as they stretched the carpet with their knee bangers. They did their job so well that they knocked loose a seal on a false wall in a bedroom.  When it rained, water coming from somewhere outside of the house snuck under the broken seal and into the bedroom...soaking the brand new carpet. A lot of presumably competent people then proceeded to locate the source of the leak.  The cause was "narrowed" down to a gap in the roof or the siding or maybe the window or perhaps, in the floor.

The husband and I were most anxious about this hardship.  There was rain and wind in the forecast and no competent repair person arriving anytime soon. And, the rain did come.  And, the wind did blow, I tell ya.   Soon, the lights flickered and all went dark.

So, now, the power was out.
And the house was silent,
except for the sound
of the rain
on it's way
to the
of the


The husband and I made conversation in the candlelight for an hour or so.  We (me) then whined about being too old to be without power.  I needed distraction if I was to survive this hardship.  I found the emergency radio and tried to find a clear signal.  There was no clear signal.  All of the stations were all buzzy and fuzzy.....until, came through.

We could barely comprehend what they were saying. We leaned in, getting our ears as close to the radio as we could.  We turned the radio side to side.  We extended the antenna...this direction...then that direction until we found the sweet spot.

It was a political debate.

The only radio station that we were able to listen to was broadcasting a political debate.

We had a mystery hole in our leaking house.
An ill-timed power outage was making us cranky.
The grating racket of ever tiresome political discourse was most unwelcome.

Yes, the husband and I were in the middle of a bit of a hardship.

Oh, I tell ya, we were stuck in a calamity,
our misfortune was most evident
and our suffering was clear.

Our power eventually came back on.  We mopped up the water that had leaked into the house.  And we learned if we balanced the radio precariously on the back of the chair and pointed the antenna half way between north and north northwest, we could faintly pull in a mariachi band instead of the political debate.

I said goodnight to the husband and we joked about our hardship.
We both agreed we were grateful to have made it through this round of misfortune and suffering.
The husband fell asleep right away. 
It took me longer to fall asleep.
I wasn't feeling well.
There was an itchy tickle in my throat.

I felt a cough coming on.

*-mild annoyance

Thursday, January 30, 2020

Blood on the Porch

He walked right past the bloodstains on the porch.
Perhaps, the uneven surface of the aggregate hid the evidence.
Perhaps he saw them but his brain told him it
had to be something else.

He put his key into the blood-smeared doorknob.

This he noticed.
The blood.

Never one to overreact,
his first thought was,

"Well, something definitely happened here."

I had tried to call him for over an hour.
He was driving.
His phone was turned off.
Etc., etc.......

I never reached him.

But...I couldn't get my finger to stop bleeding. I knew the proper first aid.  I performed the recommended procedures.  I even consulted the esteemed Google doctor and his commenting cronies. My paper towel supply started to run low.  I wasn't sure how much longer I could apply pressure and hold my hand above my head.  The situation was borderline dire.

After an hour I was still bleeding a lot.

I took another look at the damage that had been done.

There was quite a significant jagged cut. I was able to see inside to a few parts that aren't supposed to be seen from the outside. A small part of me wondered if I'd pass out from the blood loss. A larger part of me decided that thought was ridiculous. I just need to take charge of this situation and drive myself to Urgent Care-not the far one, my favorite, but the close one. I certainly wouldn't do anything crazy.

The husband saw the note I had taped to the entryway floor.

"I have driven myself to Urgent Care--the close one."

The husband, knowing I was capable of writing a note AND finding the elusive tape to secure the note (which meant I was still remarkably coherent) decided he had time to go to the bathroom.  He entered the powder room off the entryway and found a sink full of blood spatters and drips.  He found blood-soaked toilet paper scattered on the counter beside the sink.

The husband, being the relaxed person he usually is then went into the kitchen to put his lunch box away........before he rushed off to Urgent Care-the close one, of course.  It was there he was met with piles of paper towels soaked in blood.  It was then he saw random blood drops(pools)  in the kitchen sink.  It was then he saw the Google search pulled up on the open laptop, "what do I do if I can't stop my finger from bleeding?"  It was then he got in the car and rushed off to Urgent Care-the close one.

Of course.

The nurse opened the door and said, "Your husband is here."

He said, "What did you do?"

I said, "I wanted to trim that stupid hedge.  It's way overgrown.  I got out the hedge trimmer and started trimming.  But then it jammed.  So I turned the trimmer off and cleared the junk.  When I turned it back on my hand was still on the blades.  It chewed my finger up for about 1/10th of a second.  That was enough."

He said, "But there is a handguard, your hand stays behind the guard for safety? Right?"

I said, "Yep.  That's what it's there for.  But I put my hand in front of it, right on the vibrating blades."

He said, "Why?"

I said, "I don't frickin' know why.  I think we can chalk this one up to operator error."

One of us went home, driving with 11 stitches on one bandaged up hand and the other able-bodied hand desperately trying to navigate the corners.

One of us went home via the drive-thru and brought home dinner.