A pandemic diary: Bunker hill revisited
December 22, 2021
It’s roomier than it looks. (Photo from Wikimedia Commons)
I’m glad my wife and I never stopped taking pandemic precautions. We spend very little time in public spaces, wear masks everywhere except the house, go through barrels of hand sanitizer, and got boosted as soon as we had the chance.
Some of you would probably call us overcautious, paranoid, or outside the mainstream, i.e., unhip. Well, guess what: Square is sometimes better. Even if this is a bunker mentality, we’re as ready for Omicron as any over-65ers can be, which is good because the onslaught is here. On November 30, the daily average of new cases in our county in Atlanta was 83. Just three weeks later (December 21) it was 572 and rising.
It’s easier to protect our bodies than our sanity. Doubts and weariness have taken up residence in every corner of my mind. A few posts ago, I was full of excitement about seeing my team in the college football playoffs next week. Now I might not even want to watch this superspreader event. Despite the danger, it’ll probably be played because the most responsible option, canceling or postponing the games, would cost the powers that be a boatload of money. ( UPDATE: They played. I watched. We got smoked. So far, though, no players on either side have reported they’re sick.)
Many mornings I wake up hating the whole damned universe, from the anti-vaxxer morons across town to the stars and galaxies so impossibly distant that even the James Webb Space Telescope couldn’t find them. Still, as I keep reminding myself, there is always reason for hope, like the newly-approved pills that can keep infected people out of hospitals.
We just need to maintain an even keel until this moment passes like yesterday’s winter solstice, and every new day brings a few more minutes of light. It will happen. Take care and be safe.