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All the tests and screenings administered, reviewed and paper work started; so close, then the nurse went to lunch. We waited and waited some more for the discharge papers to be produced. We waited for the nurse to find a working copy machine. We waited for the transportation person to return after moving others out of the building. We waited for her to find a wheelchair (which was broken, no foot rests). And now Norma is waiting under a tree for me to text. I am on my way. The transportation person, elderly and clearly out of shape, huffed and puffed me through the hallways to the exit. I thought about asking her if she’d like to switch places.
I am out of the petri dish.
They did not test me for COVID-19.
We made it home, my space prepared, and the countdown began, fourteen days.
Each day was shelter-in-place-in-my-half-of-home and her in hers.
Sleep in place.
Up early, time for meds, take temperature.
Salutations from afar.
Protein drink with a side of banana, take my temperature.
Poker online, take temperature, normal.
Prepare lunch, take temperature.
Eat lunch alone, take temperature.
Read and watch TV, take temperature.
Prepare dinner, take temperature.
Eat dinner alone, take temperature.
Read and watch TV, take temperature.
Evening shower, time for meds, take temperature, again.
Sleep.
Repeat.
At least I remember the hospital stay and everything since. Just don’t recall what sent me there. Ask Norma.
We made it through 14 +1 days with daily temperature checks, continuous hand washing, and social distancing; it appears we have survived the petri dish. We are safe to return to a “more” lifestyle. To share the air, the space.
I dedicate this to Norma, my one and only, for her continued dedication to keeping me well and triumphing over so many surgeries, recoveries, rehabilitations, and medical challenges over the years.
We will now return to our shelter-in-place life until a vaccine is here, and all is well.
Stay well everyone, follow the science.
Wear masks, honor others.
Wash your hands, again and again.
Avoid crowds, or people (and ERs).
Shelter-in-place, find a hobby and a good book.
And not wanting to be political!
VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!
Thanks to everyone who has shared this journey, expressed their concern and hopefully found a bit of humor in my walk through time. Beyond articulating my appreciation for Norma, I wish to applaud the many nurses, technicians, and medical staff, those preparing nutritious and “tasty” meals; and, yes, even that arthritic nurse with multiple Band-Aids in her pocket. I hope this gave everyone a minute or two of relief during these surreal times.
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