Corona Hits Home

I was in Home Depot buying paint when I got the text from my son telling me he was COVID-19 positive. And Influenza B as a bonus. I was relieved, crazy as that might sound. There was finally a confirmed explanation for the misery and anxiety of the past 8 days.  And  I’ll probably never go into Home Depot again without remembering.

I asked the question on Facebook about a month back whether anyone knows of anybody, personally, who has this virus.  I was skeptical about the seriousness of the whole thing. Well, I’m not a skeptic anymore. 

My son told me half-jokingly, before he got sick, that all the plague disaster films start with the government telling everyone there’s nothing to worry about.  And that’s how they were talking, way back in the good old days, three months ago.

He was exposed second-hand to someone who had been with someone that had tested positive a week or so earlier.  Because of this exposure his family was ordered by the health department to be in two-week quarantine.  It’s a fortunate thing they were thus ordered, otherwise they would have been in contact with many other people before the symptoms appeared. The person directly exposed to the confirmed case experienced only mild symptoms, and had therefore not been tested for the virus.  As my son’s health deteriorated with fevers, sweats, nausea, vomiting and a persistent dry cough we felt certain he had also contracted this new and scary bug. 

Paul and I were in Florida where we have taken to riding out some of the miserable winter weather that is common in our area of Ohio.  Even though our son is an adult with a family of his own, during the week of hearing about his deteriorating condition, I just wanted to get on the next flight home.  Paul, the voice of reason, reminded me I wouldn’t be allowed to see Erik anyway, and that I could worry just as well in the sunshine of Florida as I could in the bleak and blustery weather of Ohio.  He was right of course but I still wanted to slap some sense into him.

Every day I checked in, sometimes several times.  He continued to tell me that the fever was back up, he had experienced terrible sweats, he couldn’t eat or keep anything down, he was unable to sleep, he was too dizzy to stay upright, and by the end of the first week he had lost fifteen pounds. This from someone who has never been overweight.

My anxiety started to climb.  And climb.  Very concerned, I finally convinced him to go to the local ER for help on about day eight. After IVs and a whole lot of tests, they discharged him to sweat it out at home.  I was somewhat reassured because now there were doctors involved, there were IV fluids in, and there were medical people staying in touch with him.  Several more days of misery followed until, finally, his fever broke and he started the long road back, gradually building up his strength again.

I feel overwhelmed with thankfulness.  For friends who pray when we are too busy freaking out to do more than blurt out “God help!” now and then.  For doctors, nurses, and techs putting themselves in harm’s way to care for those who need them.  For a God who can be trusted.  And I’m so thankful that this horrible virus never went to his lungs and that his family has suffered only minor symptoms. 

I’m also frustrated.  When I see posts about how this is all a hoax or it’s just like a “bad flu.”  Uh, yeah, no it’s not.  I hear people say there are no cases around here, or hardly any.  Also not true.  Not nearly all the cases are being counted but that doesn’t make than any less real.  I hear people say that it’s different here in the country than it is in NYC.  Well, obviously, in many ways it is.  But my son, living in a small Midwestern town many miles from any major metropolis, got slammed with this bug from the other side of the world.  He hasn’t traveled outside the state since long before Corona was anything more than beer from Mexico.

I’m frustrated when I hear people complain that we’ve been suffering through this social distancing and yet our local hospitals don’t seem to be full. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?! Most hospitals in the country aren’t being overrun BECAUSE THE QUARANTINES ARE WORKING.

Having said all that, I also realize we can’t stay shut down forever because it is simply not economically feasible.  Our small family-owned business depends on tourism.  Our checking account is looking a lot less healthy than it did a month ago.  So my frustration (at least in this blog) is not about businesses opening or staying closed.  It’s not about which side of the political aisle people are looking for their salvation.  My frustration is about people blithely comparing this to a “bad flu” or insisting that this quarantine is nothing but a political plot by the left, right, or deep state to destroy this country.  That social distancing means we’re all sheep who do anything we’re told.  That it’s all about NOTHING.  That it only kills old people.

I challenge the naysayers to promote all their questionably researched theories after someone they love has been put through the COVID wringer.  Someone who is in the prime of their life and with no underlying health challenges.  I challenge them to imagine that the body bags they’ve run out of in NYC were needed for some of their own nearest and dearest.  I challenge them to contemplate the possibility that they could be incorrect in some of their opinions. It just might change their perspectives. 

RANT OVER.

The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him. Psalm 28:7

Corona With The Cousins

At the Pregnancy Clinics Fundraiser, Sarasota

Less than two months ago I had heard very little about a novel coronavirus from a place over 7,000 miles away, as the crow flies.  We got rid of network TV years ago, so I get my news online, and only when I have the time and emotional fortitude to endure it.

Paul took a flight to Florida nine days before I headed south in our SUV.  He was involved in some music events at the end of February and I was still up to my neck in work, trying to get things ready for a six-week absence.  Besides, he prefers flying and I like traveling in a vehicle that allows me to open windows when I want.  The airlines frown on that, it seems.

When I booked Paul’s flight I was thrilled to find a one-way ticket for less than a hundred dollars.  A mere six weeks later the price was $28.00.  During prime spring break season, no less.  Who could have imagined that people eating bats in Wuhan, China could send the cost of air travel from Cleveland to Sarasota plummeting?

When I pulled into our vacation rental I was tired but anticipating a six-week sabbatical filled with fun times with friends and family, eating in our favorite restaurants, playing competitive card games, spending Sunday mornings at our Florida church, and of course reading books for  hours on the beach.  The first week that’s how it went. 

Three days after I arrived I joined five of my cousins for a fundraising dinner supporting the Sarasota Community Pregnancy Clinics, something I had the privilege of attending during a previous stay.  Cousin Dan volunteers regularly at the clinics and Paul has helped a few times with small building projects. It was an inspiring evening hearing an obstetrician share his journey from performing over a thousand abortions to becoming a health care provider who recognizes that the unborn are alive and need protection.  He choked up when he told us about the death of his daughter over thirty years ago and how this tragedy began to open his eyes to the value of every living person.

I looked around the table I shared with my beloved cousins, our small group representing vastly different areas of the country.  Three from still-frigid Ohio, one from balmy Florida, and one from an Island off the coast of Washington state, all the way across the country.  I drank in the moment, treasuring what was sure to be a rare thing, the six of us together enjoying a fabulous meal, catching up on life events, and uniting in a cause we all care deeply about.

I have well over a hundred cousins, some of them I’ve never met.  Most of my father’s family is still a very conservative sect of Amish.  So when my parents left the church they lost touch with most of the family from that side of the tree.  My father was the youngest in his family, born six years after his last sibling.  I am the youngest in my family, also born six years after my youngest brother and over twenty years after my oldest one.  To this day, I only know one cousin from the paternal side of the family.  Knowing Cousin Ezra and his family, I feel certain I have missed out by not knowing them all!  Unfortunately, many of them died of old age before I realized they even existed.

The cousins I hang out with the most and whenever possible are from my mother’s side.  Unlike my father she was one of the oldest of her siblings.  Even so, with me being so far behind all my brothers and sisters (eleven of us), I wasn’t friends with my cousins growing up.  I was that annoying little kid that got in everyone’s way, especially among my siblings, so while I knew my cousins, I didn’t spend much time with them.  Except for one or two I rarely saw, they were friends of my older siblings. Fortunately, when one reaches adulthood, a few years younger or older is meaningless and I’ve found friendships in my family tree that I value as among the biggest blessings in my life.

Cousins at Wade and Barbara's

That evening, sitting around that table, none of us suspected what was coming.  And a few days later, we met again at a local restaurant, joined by Paul and three more family members who live in Sarasota year round.  There were ten of us sitting around a large table, surrounded by other diners on all sides.  We filled up at the salad bar, returning for hot food at the steaming warmers, heaped with chicken, fish, roast beef, mashed potatoes and vegetables in wide variety. Standing in line to fill our plates, we were close enough to the many other patrons to brush up against each other, something that might never feel safe again. Finishing with ice-cream at yet another food station, we left for the home of one of my Florida cousins for more visiting and a heated game of cards.  Yes, our card games get pretty hot.  Any game involving Paul usually leads to yelling and a constant review of the rules.  It usually ends up with all of us against him. If he notices he doesn’t seem to mind.

We had no idea that a short week later we would be wondering if Kay’s flight to Arizona to visit her daughter, or Lydia’s and Esther’s flights back to Ohio would still be available.  We did not imagine that the restaurant we were in would change from filled and bustling to empty and silent, preparing food for take-out only.  We hadn’t heard the term social distancing used in every other sentence nor imagined that our evening’s activities would soon be frowned upon and then prohibited.  When we hugged each other hello and goodbye, we didn’t dream that soon we would be conditioned to believe we were threatening someone’s life by such a simple, normal, automatic, interaction. We were a group of ten, maxed out in the brave new world in which we found ourselves a few short days later.

My take-away today is a familiar cliché (and I don’t like clichés but sometimes they are the only thing that fits): don’t take for granted a single minute with the people you love.  I’ve heard this said many times but it never really registered.  When contemplating making every minute count I was thinking in case someone had an accident on their way home or some other such personal and unlikely tragedy.   The whole world coming to a screeching halt was only something that happened in the movies and not something I thought possible in real life.

Now, sitting here in quarantine, I am so thankful for those moments together.  I believe we will see each other again, if not on this planet, then certainly somewhere better.  But remembering those evenings a few weeks ago, well, it gives me more than the warm fuzzies, although I feel those too.  Yes, it gives me much more than that; it clarifies what’s important to me.  It’s not toilet paper or eating out or winning at cards. And these irreplaceable memories are the fuel that keeps me from putting other people at risk because I’m frustrated or impatient.

Philippians 1:3 I thank my God every time I remember you.

Corona: A Journey to Discovering Ourselves

Masks by Jaimee'

One thing I’ve learned from COVID-19.  Whatever you were before it started, a skeptic, a conspiracy theorist, a comedian, a survivalist, a hoarder, fearful, bold, compassionate, generous, serving, creative, helpless, sensitive, in denial, judgmental, spiritual,  whatever you were, those traits have become enhanced, strengthened, exaggerated even.  I’ve learned a few things about myself along the way, as well as about some other people.

I learned that humor is my way of dealing with anxiety and the unknown.  Some of the best memes ever have come out of this time of uncertainty (thank-you to those creative minds that put them together.)  I also learned that my sense of humor is offensive to some people.  Sorry, but we all need to deal with this in our own way.  If you don’t like my Facebook wall, scroll on by or snooze me for thirty days.  I’ve been snoozing people left and right and it’s so refreshing.  What I need right now are encouraging, uplifting, funny posts.  The Henny Penny brigade gives me the urge to run and crawl in a hole.  So I’ve been making good use of the Facebook 30-day SNOOZE option and now I’m back to seeing pictures of spring flowers, complaints about the weather and seasonal allergies, prayer requests, praise reports from those on the front lines of the COVID battle and spiritual messages from my church friends.  The kind of posts that make me want to be a better person and live another day.

If anyone had asked me two months ago what I think might be cleared out first at the grocery stores, toilet paper would have been close to the bottom of the list.  Milk, eggs, flour, sugar, fresh produce, and chocolate, the things one needs to survive the apocalypse, these I would have expected to disappear.  As well as guns and ammo of course.  And some playing cards.  Definitely playing cards.  But toilet paper???  I found this whole debacle highly amusing.  But while frantic shoppers with clean-derriere priorities wiped the shelves clean of tissue (pun intended) the rest of us had access to actual necessities like cereal, canned soups and the aforementioned chocolate for a few days longer.

I’ve been moved by the compassion and serving spirits so many people have shown.  A “Giving Table” set up outside a local church has been regularly stocked with grocery items, free to whoever needs them. “Blessing Boxes” have sprung up around town, filled and emptied anonymously.  Packaged breakfasts and lunches for kids that depended on them when schools were still open have been produced en masse by coffee shops, churches, and community centers.  One local church made hundreds of free freezer meals for those in need.

photo by T Koser

Ladies throughout the community have been sewing face masks, some of them at their own expense and at no charge, for area hospitals, nursing homes, and individuals.  I admit I rather burned with anger at Facebook posts saying homemade masks are worthless.  I raged to myself, and to Paul of course, about how I wonder what all the critics are doing to help in this war. Then I remembered that delightful SNOOZE button!  Since the patterns used are straight from a hospital and they are happy to accept the masks, I hardly think they are worthless. Kudos to all the seamstresses working hours a day for no other reason than to do their bit.  My daughter Jaimee' has made hundreds of them and she likened it to rolling bandages back in the days of the great World Wars.  Not only is she helping provide needed supplies, she is finding it therapeutic during the long days of self-isolation to be doing something.

Christina delivering groceries

My sister-in-law found her mission in feeding the housebound.  She is, at the time of this writing, grocery shopping for three family members, all under in-house quarantine, of which I am one.  Her infectious laughter when she describes her scavenger hunt for everything on all our lists is a morale booster, along with her cheerful willingness to run errands any of us might find necessary. 

While I cope with humor, and the occasional rant, I’m not one to bury my head in the sand.  I try to stay abreast of what’s happening out there “among the English” as we say in our family.  But I watch or read online at a time of my choosing, girding my loins for the latest assault on normalcy.  Afterward it’s time to research all the information.  Way too much information.  What’s true?  What’s political?  (Because rarely the twain shall meet.)  Which “miracle drug” is being touted today?  Which conspiracy theory has the gullible freaking out this week?  And where does reality lie in all of it? 

Which brings me to the only sure way to find peace in these turbulent days: faith in a living God.  Faith in a power much greater than any mere mortal can achieve on his or her own.  When it’s difficult, and sometimes impossible, to know what is true about current events, some things we can be sure of.  God never changes and He is not caught off guard by a virus or our reactions to it.  Jesus died for us and rose from the dead so we can live without fear.  And He can be trusted.  Finally, there is nothing I can do to make Him love me more or love me less – all I have to do is accept it and choose to follow Him. 

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
 I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

Psalm 91:1-2