So they all got corona…
I meant to write something fabulous for Christmas. Ours was the general uneventful it typically is–hanging out in here, avoiding the world of the infected. There are so many now.
Don’s only friend died the day I wrote that last entry. He was a colleague, and someone he really enjoyed working with–though we knew he had it, dying of it was something I was worried about for him, but I think it shocked the shit out of Don. As time has gone on, Don appears to be one of only two people in his department who is not infected. You think I am kidding? No, no I am not. The other guy lost his brother so is maybe not as carefree as some of his colleagues have been. I have clearly been on Don’s ass about this since I am not keen to die and all, and I think some of my insistence may have saved him some grief, and me, too. He got his test after the mess in his office and it was negative.
He has been working for a contractor and though the government appeared to be taking steps to protect them for a while, for some reason dropped the ball earlier this month and stopped taking temperatures at the door of the other building he works in—and so, someone, patient 0, came in coughing and likely infected everyone in the room. One guy has died, several more are doing terribly, and poor Don is kind of freaking out. Of course, we all get why, of course. There is no chance anyone should wrongly assume this is the flu. The flu does not cause psychotic behavior, kidney failure, strokes, erectile dysfunction and rheumatoid arthritis. The flu is not a pre-existing medical condition, but corona certainly is. If the world has listened to me in Spring, many more would still be here. But who the fuck am I? Just someone who relies on her gut to save her problems she does not need to endure.
My intuition has saved me some grief in the past, though I have a general sweeping kind that is not always directly personal. For example, right now I have some other health problems that have come up–and if I had any real feeling about when my time is, I would say somewhere around 2027 or so. I am not going to go with this virus, because clearly I am proving that though I certainly don’t have the health to get away with much, I certainly have the smarts to not die of this ridiculous virus, sure to be a burden on the nervous system, brains and future health of everyone who gets it. Just remember, today’s corona patients get to be tomorrow’s and next year’s people with underlying conditions we get to reason away the next time a virus gets unearthed through climate change or something worse. Yes, in a few years there will be people who will say, oh, but they had corona in 2020 or 2021, they were not well–they had underlying conditions, after all.
Right now I am trying to figure out my next money plan. I don’t want to file for bankruptcy for $8k, but I am probably going to have to do it. I am not sure how quickly I could recoup that—but I have not only a valve to do, but more than likely a hysterectomy. What would be almost hilarious would be if I got kicked to the grave by the hysterectomy but not the valve. Hilarious? Yes. Because it is so mundane and so absolutely ridiculous—to get killed by the thing that brought me nothing but pain, no children, nothing but bullshit. The heart would seem a better fit given the metaphors are endless, but the womb? The womb would be pretty pathetic.
Anyways, tomorrow is the last entry of 2020…for now, I need a nap.
