It doesn’t really hurt until…

One can read about the hundreds of thousands of COVID deaths but it is an academic exercise which elicits outrage, sorrow, feelings of compassion, wishes for an end to it all, cabin fever, a myriad of emotions but it really doesn’t hurt until it hits home. One of my closest friends of many years, my mentor as a teacher in the gifted program, my school principal for several years, my house sitter, my cat care taker, my chauffeur when a four wheel drive was necessary, my companion at symphony concerts, jazz in the park, and at Levitt at the Falls, health advisor, companion at doctor’s appointments, died of COVID-19 on Monday morning. There’s no reason that Colleen should have been afflicted with COVID. No one was more careful than she when the pandemic hit. She would never go into a store. Everything had to be delivered or curb-side pick up. Having gone through chemotherapy she was rigid about hand sanitizing. She would not go to social events, no matter how physically distanced and masked the smallish crowd might be. Yet she went to one physical therapy appointment and that made the difference, according to her daughter, a physician. She suffered four hospital stays, two times in rehab, pneumonia and pulmonary embolism, scarred lungs, and finally in hospice. Always a petite person she weighed less than 80 pounds. Seeing her last Sunday morning as she struggled for every breath, I knew she would not be on this earth much longer. This thing is so very real. It’s not some plot to keep everyone frightened. It is a nasty, nasty thing and it kills people. Blowhards can poo-poo it and claim it’s going to disappear. Governors can pretend that they are doing people a favor by not requiring precautions. No one is doing anyone a favor by not taking every precaution possible until COVID is conquered. And even when every precaution is taken, some still die. May Colleen rest in peace and rise in glory.

On Sunday I noticed a swelling on my right cheek and that side of the neck. I didn’t think it was a tooth because I could chew easily on that side. By Monday the swelling was a little more pronounced. On Tuesday even more so, I made an appointment with my doctor who was full for the day and leaving on vacation. The PA was the next choice so I took it. While having my infusion that day, the usual routine is to ask a whole list of questions. Have I been in the hospital? Have I fallen? Have you noticed any changes? Being an exemplary patient I said I was concerned about the swelling on my face. Many nurses had to come in and declare that I was indeed swollen. The PA declared is was a swelling of the parotid gland and that I should allow lemon drops to dissolve in my mouth or insert lemon pieces with some frequency. Feeling that lemon drops were the less objectionable I opted for them. I did mention to the doctor, who came in to check the PA’s diagnosis, that I had received the COVID vaccine. He didn’t think that would cause it. At the cancer center the next day I voiced that opinion to one of the nurses who immediately reported several cases of various swollen glands amongst the nursing staff after having the injection. The swelling abated gradually. I revisited the PA on Friday and she agreed that it well could have been the injection. I’m practically normal, swelling-wise, now, so I declare that I am over the “mump.” Other than that little episode the week went well. All the infusions were infused, the anti-nausea medication administered each day, and I received my Friday shot to improve my white-cell count. A news notice was just received that the Senate has failed to convict the former president. There are so many things wrong with this that I cannot get into it. But, I’ve served on the jury often enough to know that jurors are not allowed to sit and doodle, or read other documents while evidence is being presented, that jurors are not allowed to be absent. I also know that members of the jury are not allowed to meet with the defendant’s attorneys during the trial. What a travesty and a show of contempt. May the ballots cast in the next election reveal that we hold our senators to a higher standard than many have displayed. It’s cold here. The low tomorrow night is predicted to be -24º. The prediction also is for a high of 37º one week from Monday! Spring is near. So is Lent near. This coming Wednesday is Ash Wednesday the beginning of the 40 days of Lent (not counting Sundays, which are never part of Lent).

The term Lent comes from the Old English word meaning “spring season.” Spring will be welcome after this weekend’s frigid temperatures. Sophia and I have enjoyed several evenings in front of the fire. I’ve binge-watched “All Creatures Great and Small.” It is quite as enjoyable as the original series. What to watch next is the burning question. A new puzzle has been started. It has to do with cats and the signs of the Zodiac. The border is complete and more labor will be accomplished this evening. Now it’s time to bundle up for the trip to the mailbox. Winter is a lot of work—all that dressing and undressing and booting and unbooting, all for the 30 foot trip to the mailbox. Is it worth it? I frequently ask myself. However I was raised to bring the mail in everyday, so that is what I must do. One cannot forget one’s upbringing.