“Among the 41 confirmed cases, there has been one death. This death occurred in a patient with serious underlying medical conditions.”
— World Health Organization statement on coronavirus, Jan. 12
It’s that time of year. You know what I am talking about. This is when you receive those end of year holiday letters. Most of them are great. You want to hear from family and friends, especially with all that has gone on this past 12 months. But this year….oh my…
Where to begin?
A year ago we were in Africa. We were spending several weeks traveling from the Middle East, to South Africa, and finally Spain. Of our many trips, this one was magical. We would spend days driving through the savannah of Kruger National Park breathing in the wonders of creation. It was thrilling.
When you have a fender bender with a wild elephant…. well, the memory stays with you.
As our time in Africa came to an end we flew to Madrid, Spain to spend several days before coming home. We walked around medieval squares and gorged on delicate pastries every morning.
Little did we know that lurking along the cobblestone streets was a virus that would change the entire world. Nine days after we left for home Madrid would begin a Covid outbreak and would become one of the worst hit countries in Europe.
We were lucky. We were in so many crowds. How we were not infected I will never know.
We listened to the news like everyone else. We didn’t know what to think. We were experienced travelers so there wasn’t much that made us uncomfortable, but this was different. I remember, as we were preparing to go home we were in the airport at a crowded gate. People were wearing masks and sitting together nervously. One person started coughing. The entire crowd turned and looked in their direction, shifted uncomfortably, and continued to wait.
We made it home. There was no checks at the US gates. We breezed right through customs and to our Uber.
We were greeted by Flash and Charlie. We have learned now that Charlie tends to get very excited with these reunions and pees everywhere. So we have to see him on the porch only. Flash tries to jump up on his little hind legs that can no longer support his weight. His tail is a slow, happy metronome as he tries to push past the incontinent Coon hound for some affection. It was good to be home.
Like everyone else we were looking forward to getting back to a routine but by March, shortly after we returned it became clear that the pandemic was not a small , isolated event. We had planned another extended trip in May but we had to cancel as it became clear that the world was shutting down. It was the beginning of the lockdown that would dominate our lives for the rest of the summer.
We dove into the homestead. Landscaping and gardening projects dominated our days. We were more fortunate than most. I was already retired from full time medical practice and both of the boys were well established in their careers.
Chris is working for a transportation company in Cincinatti where he and Emily live. We have been fortunate to have the opportunity to see them occasionally although not as often as we wished. Both of them have managed to hang on to their jobs in this new economy. The same cannot be said by many others and they feel fortunate.
We have not been able to see Stephen for almost a year now. He is entering his fourth year of his Geology PhD program at Stanford. California has been hit very hard by the pandemic and most of the great university has been shuttered. It is hard to imagine what it must feel like as an undergraduate there. To work so hard to be accepted by a prestigious school only to receive your education on a laptop at home in your overpriced California apartment. Much of Stephen’s work, at this point, is based on him working at home with occasional trips to labs so he appears to be all right. He is just isolated and feels it.
Then it happened.
As the Summer began, Colleen’s chronic vestibular system disorder took a dramatic turn. She began to have severe prolonged episodes of vertigo, nausea , and vomiting. They would come one after the other with little breaks in between. It turned our world upside down. She could no longer drive or do the simplest of things around the house. The fog would lift for a few days only to return like a thunderclap.
We started to contemplate a future that we were unprepared to accept. It was a dark time. We sought medical attention, but their are few specialists in town able to effectively handle the disorder. They would be experts in one aspect, the hearing loss, but not in the other aspects like the vertigo.
The ‘Road to Bali’ had come to a significant road block.
Finally, after several weeks, and some internet research, we happened upon a specialist in Delaware whose entire practice deals with patients like Colleen. Through the medium of telemedicine he started her on a new medication regimen.
And it worked! She is not completely symptom free, it is a chronic disorder and will occasionally have flare ups. But, she is driving again and, for the most part, has returned to a more normal schedule. We are so grateful.
As we came into the Fall we were swept up in the politics this year. It is no secret that we both felt Trump was a vile candidate. It was hard to watch his malevolent management of the pandemic and remain silent. So it was with enormous relief, we celebrated his loss at the polls. Perhaps now, we would return to some sense of normalcy or, at least, competence in the world.
Beyond politics, the advent of Trump did much more to us. We had already seen a change in how we viewed the world from our travels. Trump was an accelerant to this evolution. I watched people I previously had respected bend into pretzels trying to defend this man-child. Things that I had held dear; the church, friends, family, and my conservative views of the world, had now been called increasingly into question. It is like a very bright operation room light that was aimed into a dark wound. It is clearer now. I was wrong before. Very wrong. This realization is a lot to take in at my age.
As the Winter season approached, the pandemic darkened the world. Like an odometer advancing as a car speeds along, the number of the dying accelerated. As of today, a person dies of Covid every 35 seconds in this country.
I remarked in an earlier post that the pandemic was always “over the hill”. You heard about it, but it had little other impact beyond closed stores and inconvenience . This characterization is no longer true. Like many Americans, I now know personally people who have Covid and have died from the infection. We could have done so much better. The country of Senegal has a better record on the scourge than we do.
A year ago we were in Africa. A year ago no one knew what a Coronavirus was. It certainly has been a year to remember.
The only thing that keeps you from falling headlong into despair is to focus on gratitude. Despite the hard knocks of the last months we have much to be grateful for in our home. I have been blessed to have not only my beautiful wife but my best friend to shelter in place with during the storm. And she is better!
We have food on the table and a roof over our heads. Our children are safe and doing well. We are luckier than many. Who can ask for more?
I still work a couple of shifts a month at an OB ER. As my shift ended this morning it was still dark outside. I walked across the cold parking lot. My feet crunched on the residual snow. A clinic was set up in a building next to the hospital.
There, I received my first injection of the new Covid vaccine.
I climbed into my frozen car and started the drive home. The sun was coming up over the frozen cornfields next to the highway. The coffee was warm.
The colors were amazing.
Christmas has always been about hope. As I drove East into the morning sky I felt that promise.
Happy Christmas and have a wonderful New Year.
Stay well.
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