13 Days--I Got Through; I'm Still Here

13 days ago, I went to the dentist. Got some work done. Couldn't avoid it. The dentist said he was glad I'd come in. I said I hoped so.

I wrote, here, that the odds were on my side but I couldn't be sure that I wouldn't get the virus, though. Turns out I was right: The dentist and his assistant wore masks, and I'm okay.

But I also self-quarantined for 14 days, just in case. I have one day left. No reason to hurry; there's nothing outside, except better weather, to run out into.

I had some moments that I misinterpreted. I thought maybe I had a runny nose. That, apparently, is how it starts. It was then that I got really, really scared; I have pre-existing conditions. But the lack of humidity in my apartment lent itself to that conclusion.

More to the point, I can take deep breaths. But the anxiety is also deep. I'm losing sleep, as are many others, from what I've read. But with few exceptions, I stayed inside. I picked up two prescriptions on the way back from the dentist 13 days ago. I picked up a pizza last Saturday, scraped in the mail on two Fridays with a yardstick--I'm getting it held and it's delivered to my door; you can, too, just put USPS Hold Mail in your browser and follow the prompts--and went into the lobby to get my Sunday New York Times and pick up the mail I forgot to hold on two Saturdays.

I washed my hands afterwards, too. Otherwise, I went absolutely nowhere. I'm safe.

Probably good, in a way, that I observed the self-quarantine. Now I can go back outside with proper respect, as if I didn't have it in the first place. No, I'm not going to the state capitol and jump up and down, next to silly compatriots, screaming my head off, demanding that my life be replaced with guarantees that no one can give at this moment.

Clarification is a necessary thing nowadays. There's a great article in today's New York Times discussing the kinds of questions people would normally ask about giving themselves the virus. It'll help you feel better and a bit more secure. But social distancing and masks and gloves should still be observed. The article's not a permission slip to return to normal.

I'm in Milwaukee, and the standing in line during the election has had its predictable results; the curve is going back up from a point at which the virus was beginning to disappear to the point at which it's beginning to spread again. Thanks, Republican Party. There is no chance in hell that I'll ever vote for any of you again, if I get through this alive. You're idiots. You're dangerous. You have your priorities screwed up. What does the Constitution matter if you're dead?

But I'm out of food and I need to go to the store. I looked at getting deliveries, but I can't have what I want that way. Whole Foods is allowing seniors to shop from 7-8 a.m. daily so they can be sure to have the best chance to do so without getting sick. I'll probably take advantage of that, driving there instead of walking, which I normally did because it's less than 15 minutes away. The original Sendik's is a block and a half away, too, and I've shopped there with the appropriate protections. So far, so good. Plus they have great turnovers. I have rationed them to one per morning.

Oh, and--I have lost weight, even though I haven't been outside yet. No question. Stringing out meals has done me well. I've gained a new appreciation for blueberries (they keep much better than bananas), peanuts, and salmon. It's the kind of stuff I ate anyhow, but when there's nothing else....

I wonder, now, how long my hand cleanser will last, how long my soap will last, how long my gloves will last. They will need replenishment. Can I get it? I've looked, and shelves are presently empty. When can that worry be diminished?

My life has been hermitish for a while, but by choice, not by force of virus. Staying inside for days at at time has been difficult by oneself. I established something of a routine, but it doesn't eat up every waking minute. There are still those empty places where one just sits and thinks. They can be nervous. Just keep breathing, I say to myself. As long as you can do that, you're okay. A friend in Iowa put it out on Facebook: You sit and wait for the virus to take hold, not knowing when or if. How do you get your mind off of that?

I thought of something: Tell people you value that you might not make it. After all, it might be someone else's mistake, not yours, that puts you in that position. Get them ready to say good-bye just in case. Again, I have a pre-existing condition: Triple by-pass surgery less than two years ago. I'm doing all right with it--I was a good boy during rehab--but I have to face it: My heart isn't what it used to be. This virus might easily kill me. It would be a horrible death: All alone, gradually being strangled by my body, which ironically would be trying to fight the virus.

So I've texted and e-mailed and will call people, telling them things I wouldn't otherwise, just in case. I've written up a will and will send it to my brother, who I've appointed my legal representative. I don't know if it'll hold up, but it's in writing and it's from me.

To wit: Thank you for reading this. The numbers aren't large, but I know I have a devoted readership. You have inspired me. The Pulitzer committee won't be by soon, but I do pay attention to what I say here, so it makes some kind of sense.

Am I ready to die? Of course not; who wants to do that? But things can be prepared. If the virus takes hold, I might go very fast. Tough to say. There are so many variables. There might not be time for closure.

In the meantime, I will inch forward. I will be careful. I will play it smart. The world will stay small, just slightly larger than before. I will go shopping, but stay in as long as I can otherwise. I will stay away from people if I possibly can, reinforcing loneliness but keeping the big picture in mind. If I can get to May 26, when our governor says the Safe At Home restrictions will be lifted, maybe it really will be safer. I don't blame him for extending them. I will keep writing here, and start walking outside again, now that I've done some exercises to help me do so (that was another issue).

And maybe I'll get through this. I hope you do, too. At least we have another 13 days behind us.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.


Mister Mark