I was out for my walk by 6:30 am. I did alternate route #1 with a slight variation. I had completed my 5,000 steps by the time I got to my driveway because whenever Elsa stopped to exam something, I did a march in place.
Even though Yvette had plans of doing yoga in the driveway, the class hadn’t started by the time I got home. While I was in my typing chair, Elsa began to bark like a madwoman. There they were, setting up. It was Yvette and two students.
I had put out an APB to four people saying I needed a grocery run. I had three people respond. B. was first. He got the job. Scott stopped by, and then Judy called. I am so lucky. Dorothy only has her son to help her, and Jean and John have no one. The delivery system in New Jersey is so backed up, it takes two or three weeks to get an order fulfilled. John, jean’s husband, suits up in protective gear, gets up at 5:30 am to make it to the store early for the senior shopping.
I feel very virtuous today. I swept the floor, posted the daily blog for last year, wrote and sent out an entry for the 18th by email, weeded some of the garden, worked on my book on reading, spoke to Judy and then Damon. What a good girl am I!
I heard two things on the radio today. The first was about the effects of being on a respirator. I had no idea. First, only 20% of people who go on ventilators survive. Second, being on one is very stressful. It does damage to the mind and the body. People who have been on respirators are immobile. Mike was confined to his bed 24/7 after the first week. I could see him getting weaker and weaker. I contemplated what it would mean to get him back on his feet. I understood that it would be a slow, painful process. I didn’t know that the drugs given to those on ventilators to keep them calm do brain damage. They said that the person who survives a period on a ventilator is never the same again. The thought of what that would have meant for Mike is almost unbearable. I am so glad he is dead. I am happy he didn’t have to face not being the person he loved being. He would have been so miserable. And then to have to face the Covid virus pandemic and its effects on the economy. I would have tried to keep the information from him. But how would I have explained the face masks and the total absence of visitors? I feel such pain for him, knowing more about what he went through. It makes me so sad. It breaks my heart.
A cousin through marriage posted on Facebook that her sister, who suffered from dementia and was living in a nursing home, was admitted to a hospital with a serious urinary tract infection and the Covid virus. These two women are very close. It is all very sad.
B. dropped off the groceries I ordered. While he was at Costco, he called me several times to check on items he was having difficulty finding. How lucky am I?
A Facebook post says that sheltering in place and maintaining the necessary distance is the luxury of the fortunate, if not the downright rich. Some have no home to shelter in, no water or soap to wash their hands, not to mention food insecurity or perhaps even challenges to their physical safety. Me? I have a large, lovely home, access to water and soap, and at least seven people who watch out for me. I have friends and family who I speak to frequently who love me and who I love. I have a goddaughter and her husband, who live beneath me and watch out for me. I have B. who lives on the property who also watches out for me. I am one of the luckiest people on the face of this earth. I couldn’t be better situated for this worldwide tragedy.
Elsa and I did our before-dinner walk. I had salad greenies from the farm next door and a burrito that Sandor had brought for me unbidden. I loved that burrito. It was a great taste change. Thank you, Sandor.
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