At first I didn’t worry too much. No one here in Archuleta County had tested positive for the novel coronavirus… and besides, we live in a thinly populated county with only 13,000 plus inhabitants… and the President was claiming the whole thing was a hoax. You know, “fake news.”
Well, I have other things to worry about. I’m Power of Attorney for my 92-year-old mother. Last August, we moved her from the Presbyterian Village North in Dallas to Pine Ridge Extended Care Center in Pagosa Springs, Colorado. Mom suffers from advanced dementia and has been on a steady downhill slope. Due to lack of balance, she has had several major falls, two resulting in emergency room visits. Now she is in a wheel chair and requires care 24/7.
Thank goodness she still recognizes us, but her memory and cognition have been deteriorating rapidly. She has a hard time using her special landline phone, and communicating in general is a real chore. She can neither read nor write. Once the head of the Speech Therapy Department at Richardson Independent School District and a past regent of Dallas’ Nancy Horten Davis Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, my mother is a mere shadow of her former self. She sleeps a great deal of the time, and has a hard time separating dreamland from reality.
She lives to see her two sons, and my wife Jaye, and our dog Punkin ‒ it’s the only thing that keeps her going. But then, on March 10, Pine Ridge closed its doors and quarantined all of the patients. Gone are the visits in her room, the hugs and kisses, eating meals with her at the dining hall or her favorite restaurants, and picturesque drives in the country. Now we visit her in the entrance vestibule behind glass, cell phones in hand. She is totally lost and can’t form the sentences that we long to hear. My brother Ross and I wave goodbye as the inevitable tears form in Mother’s eyes.
Meanwhile, on that same day, after returning from a weekend of golf at Mar-a-Lago, Trump insisted that the “Chinese Flu” is really nothing to worry about. By March 10, the death toll had risen to 780, and would continue rising exponentially.
“We can criticize Trump’s golfing and tweeting, but when he hunkers down on the problem, that’s where he really sucks.” ‒ Joe Scarborough
My wife — Jaye the worry-wart — has laid down the law. From now on we will spend most of our time at home, “sheltering in place.” We will practice the art of “distancing,” separating ourselves at least six feet from any human being. Everything is prohibited: no hugs, kisses or handshakes. No public gatherings, no restaurants, no school, no church, no team sports, no playing drums in public ‒ no job! It’s as if I was summoned to the principal’s office to be informed that I’ve been suspended from life until further notice.
Okay. Now I’m worried…
Not long ago, at Wally World, a friend’s wife ran towards me expecting a big hug. I made the sign of the cross and she backed off. She chuckled and said, “Oh, you’re one of those. My crazy husband’s the same way.” Another friend that I’ve known for over twenty-five years approached me with his hand extended. I tried to give him the old elbow bump, but he actually got huffy and called me a sissy! (Anyone ready for an ice cold glass of hydroxychloroquine?)
What is it with these people? I guess they’re in denial, but to them, denial is de river by de pyramids. And what the hell is going on with the vanishing toilet paper? I suppose they need a lot of TP because the President is scaring the poop out of everybody.
While purchasing “essentials,” I wear a bandanna as a mask. But folks think I’m holding up the liquor store. (The wartime president says he won’t wear a mask because it makes him look silly, especially greeting queens and dictators in the Oval Office.) I had been wearing surgical gloves but they made me feel like an amateur proctologist. This won’t do. It all makes me cherish the sanctity of sheltering in place with my loving wife.
Now we are the number one country – by far ‒ in confirmed cases, and near the top in fatalities… and it’s getting more dangerous by the day. President Alfred E. Neuman proclaims that “we can call it a good job” if we can keep the human toll at 100,000 deaths! Yet he poo-poos the whole thing by implying, ‘What, Me Worry?’ Of course he doesn’t worry, the buck stops somewhere else; he’s not responsible. His goofy rhetoric and dysfunctional leadership style comes directly from the pages of Mad Magazine. If our president wants to appear intelligent, then he should keep his mouth shut.
It seems that nursing homes are an easy target for the “invisible enemy”. And ours are no exception — especially since Archuleta County is at six confirmed cases of COVID-19 and counting. God forbid, but it’s almost inevitable that an asymptomatic health provider, housekeeper or cook inadvertently infects an entire facility.
Please don’t tell me that I can’t hug my mother one last time. Or is it already too late?
Be kind to one another… don’t be afraid to laugh, or too embarrassed to cry… choose science over political rhetoric, and people over profits… keep the faith… stay home…
…and remember:
We are Americans. We can beat this!
DC has been a frustrated musician for over fifty years, and now has decided to become a frustrated writer. Learn more at DCDuncan.com. He’ll keep you posted.