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  • Writer's pictureunkillbilly

Hitting Close to Home

I went to visit my mom at her nursing home today and wasn't allowed in.

That's awesome. I mean, it is and it isn't. I think the vectors for Covid-19 in Arizona have yet to replicate in as dramatic a fashion as other cities (we feel for you Seattle!), so I think the timing of the decision is good. In fact, if Trump wasn't president, perhaps we'd have been puttin' nursing homes on lockdown a month ago. Still, I was glad to be turned away. The last thing I want in this life is to carry the shit into the nursing home and be responsible for lives lost.

Of course, I'm bummed by the decision because I won't get to see my mom for a time, maybe a fairly long time. She's 92. Every day that passes between now and whenever people can be safe in public again will bring a certain agony. How many days are left? Mom's a trooper! Still.

I'll conduct as vigorous phone campaign as possible. The telephone set up at the nursing home is rather marginal. It's 50-50 I'll get through during the weekday, but the odds go way down on the weekends. Not sure what the challenge is for mom's facility when it comes to keeping people connected. The owners are relatively new.

I've been seeing articles for weeks suggesting the world is in for some big changes. No matter where you live on the planet, no matter your culture, it's about to get jacked by the coronavirus. Then there was all the deaths at the nursing home in Seattle. I could feel the threat building, but things still seemed pretty remote.

Then I got turned away at my mom's residence. Knock knock. Who's there? Virus. Virus who? Virus you waiting so long to respond to Covid-19?

I'd already planned to self isolate, starting this weekend. I've been gathering supplies, including toilet paper! I gleefully jumped on that bandwagon. Far as I'm concerned, toilet paper is mankind's greatest invention. For real! You can have fire, or the wheel, I'm takin' toilet paper every time. (It's also a fact that in one of my novels the Main Character is sent back in time, from the year 2036 to 1876--and he takes a big box of toilet paper with him and becomes the inventor of toilet paper.)

I've got food, I've got sundries, I've got work and entertainment--I don't have to go to the store, or anywhere for that matter, for a month. So I won't. I pulled out of a storytelling performance on the 19th, I can't go see mom, I canceled all my doctor's appointments.

I've always said I'm good with my own company. We'll see...

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