Lonely ranger

In a crowded Waffle House I’m one of two. At the doctor’s office, I might be one of several but the only patient. At the burger place, the library, the car dealer, the barbershop, and almost everywhere else, I’m the only person in sight who’s still going around with one of these on his face.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

I’m starting to feel like the Lone Ranger. If you don’t remember him, he was a fictional hero of the Old West whose TV show ended with somebody asking, “Who was that masked man?”

We all recall when the question was, “Who’s that idiot without a mask?” Today we’re in much better shape. The winter surge is receding here in Georgia and elsewhere. Yet four years into the age of Covid, people are still dying and thousands of them are seniors like me.

It’s depressing to realize that we didn’t learn from the carnage that hit the elder population a few years ago. It’s infuriating to think a lot of young people don’t care. What else explains the fact that less than 20% of the nation has received the latest (bivalent) booster? Or that a cheap, effective lifesaving tool has disappeared like the autumn leaves?

I don’t look forward to wearing these things forever. At the moment I just don’t feel like I have a choice, even though I’m fully vaxxed and seem to have inherited a strong constitution. I’ve heard about folks who are decades younger than I am, successfully dodged the virus since 2020, and recently got sick.

What I fear most is long Covid, which might not kill me but could make life almost unbearable. I could not live with myself if it destroyed someone who I carelessly infected. Make your own decision about masking but please think of the people around you, especially those who are older and vulnerable. Take care and be safe.

This isn’t me. Photo by Wikipedia.

Boosted again

September 18, 2023

Photo by Artem Podrez on Pexels.com

My dose of the new Covid vaccine was about as ordinary as could be. I didn’t have to wait in line at the drugstore, and for the first time, the provider didn’t note the details on my CDC card.

The pharmacist said the policy changed because the shots aren’t mandatory. Besides, my card was full (and slightly dog-eared) after six rounds of vaccine before this one, starting in February of 2021. I remember that occasion well. I don’t recall thinking we’d still need shots two and a half years later.

I’ve noticed a few more masks around Atlanta since cases and hospitalizations began their “uptick,” though probably at least 95% of the people still go without them. I can understand why, since the bug has almost disappeared from the public arena, except among right-wing Republicans who are blasting the new vaccine and being rebutted by responsible doctors and scientists.

Some physicians report the symptoms of the latest variants are different than in the past, with few patients losing their sense of taste or smell, and are often less severe. But since I’m not getting any younger (damn it), I’ll be at high risk forever and most definitely do not want long Covid. Read what happened to an Atlanta-area nurse and you won’t either. Take care and be safe.

You don’t want to read this, but…

August 8, 2023

Is it a surge or an uptick? A brief blip on the radar or—like thicker-than-normal corn husks, halos around the moon, and other folklore—an omen of a hard winter ahead?

Whatever it’s called, we’re seeing an increase in Covid. The CDC doesn’t track cases anymore but reports other metrics are rising, including hospitalizations and test positivity. One of my medical providers quietly acknowledged the trend by “encouraging” patients to mask up, which the office didn’t do earlier this summer.

As usual, the experts are divided about how serious the upturn is and how bad it might become in the next few months. The overall numbers are still low, with deaths a small fraction of what they were in January.

However, most of the people we’re losing are over 65, like me. It’s not over for us and may never end for the many millions with long Covid. In one of the most sobering accounts I’ve read, novelist Madeline Miller writes about how the disease gutted her work and family life: “Nothing was more painful than hearing my kids delightedly laughing and being too sick to join them.”

Unlike Miller, I’ve never been ridiculed or heckled for wearing an N95. I still use them in public spaces, even if I’m the only masked person in the room. I couldn’t care less what others think when my life and quality of life are at stake.

My wife and I are among the careful (and lucky) few who’ve never been infected, and we’re determined not to become long haulers. Right now we’re waiting for the new vaccine that will target the latest variant. No, it’s not fun to think about this again but ignorance can be fatal. Take care and stay safe.

A pandemic diary: Jerks gone wild

February 3, 2023

I know this isn’t pleasant, but let’s travel back to the early days of the pandemic for a minute. You see the headline, “GOP tries to harness anger over Covid,” and think it’s about the wildfire spread of the virus, the chaos, and the dying.

Not quite. That article appeared on Groundhog Day, 2023. It’s about how Republicans are fired up something fierce about mask and vaccine mandates, closings, and other actions we took to keep our society intact and our people alive.

The GOPers in Congress, who claim their voters are still stewing over such things, are throwing chiles into the pot. In the last few days, the House voted to end Covid emergencies originally declared by Trump, and repeal a vaccine requirement for health-care workers.

It didn’t matter that (a) these measures worked and (b) they’re all but gone. The White House already planned to let the public health emergency expire in May. To me that sounds like a bad idea when nearly five hundred people are dying every day (although case counts are falling). But today’s Republicans don’t campaign on ideas. Their platform is built on outrage, bile, snark, resentment, and revenge.

These are the folks who go to a high-school reunion for the sole purpose of telling off or showing up the kids who tormented them. You know that guy who thinks of a snappy comeback to an insult after the fact and flies across the country to deliver it, only to get zinged again? That’s right, the G in GOP now stands for George, not Santos but Costanza.

Like the Confederates many of them are descended from, spiritually if not biologically, these people can’t resist a lost cause based on lies. Last fall a lot of Georgeite* candidates took that tack regarding the 2020 election, and got stomped flat by voters with common sense. Let’s hope this sense extends to whatever’s left of the pandemic as well as the 2024 election. Take care and be safe.

*I couldn’t call them Georgian, which would be libelous to my home state and the country just north of Armenia and Azerbaijan.

Gazing through the gloom

December 10, 2022

It seems it’s been this way forever, foggy mornings and soggy days in various hues of grey, with only fleeting patches of blue. Since we’re still on the darkening side of the winter solstice, the cloud cover accelerates the early dimming of light. The mercury is unseasonably high even for the South and we’ve had so much rain that our small backyard pool threatens to overflow. Not our natural climate.

The parade of midday runners and walkers outside my window had already vanished when WFH became RTO. In this soup, only the dedicated dog-wranglers are venturing out. On the plus side, the leaf-blowers have gone silent. But as soon as rain the tapers off they’ll be back, louder than a WWII bomber squadron.

As you might have guessed, the weather is among several things that are keeping my mental state in a semi-tropical low. I just lost another friend, the fourth since summer and all of them close to my age. My birthday fell in October and while I’m extremely grateful to be here, I can’t forget how many candles are on the cake.

The author Annie Ernaux, who was recently awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature at age 82, told the New Yorker she had worried that if she won, “they’ll steal my old age from me…What really interests me about youth is that it’s always the time that you remember later. But I won’t be able to remember my old age. So! I have to live it to the fullest.”

I’m not sure staring at my screen qualifies as the fullest anything. Writing is rewarding once it’s done but when the words won’t come, each minute feels like a wasted eternity. If I try taking a break, pretty soon my Midwestern work ethic kicks in: “Get your keister back in that chair. You think books (short stories, blog posts, etc.) write themselves?”

Still, the written word is all I’ve got, especially with the stew of viruses swirling across the country and making human contact hazardous for people like myself. The long-range forecast says we might see the sun next weekend. The days start getting a tiny bit longer eleven days from now. I’ll be watching.

A pandemic diary: The long road

September 13, 2022

Photo by Andrew Neel on Pexels.com. (That’s not me; I’m fine.)

You had Covid and it wasn’t much more than a cold. Or maybe you spent a couple of days in bed but were soon back at work, the gym, and the pub. Only now you’re badly fatigued, short of breath, and you have a brain fog that won’t quit.

You may be dealing with long Covid, one of the most mystifying and frightening effects of the pandemic. Though the condition was identified in 2020, the World Health Organization says it’s still “poorly understood” by doctors, and millions of us will be living with this horror for years to come. These are the sobering facts from the WHO and CDC.

• More than 200 symptoms are associated with long Covid.
• Besides the ones mentioned above, they include joint pain, digestive disorders, headache, dizziness, depression, trouble sleeping, numbness, and changes in menstrual cycles.
• Some patients get autoimmune or multiple organ issues, which in turn lead to diabetes, heart and neurological conditions.
• There’s no test for long Covid. Your routine results (blood, x-rays etc.) might be normal.
• Nearly one in five American adults who’ve had the virus has long Covid symptoms.
• Younger adults are more susceptible than older ones.
• People who had severe Covid, had pre-existing conditions, or weren’t vaccinated are at higher risk of becoming long haulers. However, anyone who’s been infected can get it.

All the people who’ve tuned out the pandemic probably don’t grasp how debilitating long Covid can be, or even that it exists. But imagine being in the prime of life, running marathons and climbing mountains, and suddenly you can’t work or even walk.

The only way to be sure this won’t happen is to never be infected in the first place, which due to a combination of caution and luck I haven’t been. So get one of the new boosters and hold onto those masks, even if you’re the only person in your social circle, office, or subway car who’s wearing one. It’s worth it to avoid what could be a lifetime of struggle and pain. Take care and please be safe.

A pandemic diary: Last call

May 18, 2022

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Booster number two is in. Unlike the other shots, this one brought no particular sense of relief, hope, or civic duty. Instead, I had short-lived but tangible side effects: a sudden lethargy and weariness in my bones, which sums up how I feel about the pandemic in general.

Two years on, the federal government – the one I voted for – has no idea how many cases are out there. The money to replenish vaccines and treatments is about to run dry. While deaths have remained relatively flat in the current wave, we’re still losing more than three hundred souls a day and will soon hit the ghastly milestone of one million. The “authorities” sound like the flight attendant who comes on the intercom when three engines have fallen off the plane and the fourth one is on fire, and says “Please do not be alarmed. We will resume our beverage service as soon as possible.”*

I’m not waiting to resume anything. This doesn’t mean dropping my mask or partying with superspreaders. I’m just making the most of what I’m lucky enough to have right now, which is plenty. A comfy home office with a view of the birds and the trees. Dinners on the deck in the quiet spring twilight. Time to write the stories that find their way into my head. A hard drive full of music my wife and I have loved and collected all our lives. Each other.

Some call this attitude “romanticizing your life,” and say it started with Covid, but for me it’s a return to the ways I learned from my parents. They were blessed with Midwestern grit that got them through a flu pandemic, a depression, and a world war. They were grateful for simple good times and didn’t waste them quaking in fear about the future. As my mother always said, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

This is the last chapter in my diary, at least for now. I’ll certainly go on blogging about other important topics (like football). I just don’t have the energy to keep plunging into these waters and wouldn’t want to give y’all a half-hearted effort. I hope it’s been useful. Take care and be safe.

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*This is an inexact version of a line from Douglas Adams’s Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series. I couldn’t find the original.

A pandemic diary: Minority report

April 27, 2022

I’m a straight white guy, yet belong to what may be the biggest minority group in the country: those who’ve never been infected with the coronavirus.

According to new data based on tens of thousands of blood samples, almost 60 percent of us have caught Covid at least once. That figure is up from 34 percent in December, prior to the surge triggered by the Omicron variant. It’s also more than twice the official case count. Among children and teens, the infection rate is as high as 75 percent.

It’s conceivable that I had an asymptomatic or mild case, as many people in this new metric apparently did, but with all the precautions I’ve taken it’s not likely. I still wear a mask though lots of folks around me in Atlanta are shedding theirs. I avoid crowds, too. If I were a Washington journalist like I used to be, I wouldn’t go near the White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner.

To me this is just common sense, even if Dr. Fauci is right when he says we’re out of the full-blown pandemic phase. Like our last president’s lies about the 2020 election, the virus keeps mutating, reinventing itself in every corner.

The 60% may not have natural protection against new infections. Over three hundred Americans still die of Covid every day. I don’t intend to join them and hope none of y’all will either. Take care and be safe.

Source: CDC 4/27/2022

A pandemic diary: The colors that give me the blues

April 1, 2022

UPDATE / CORRECTION, April 2: It appear that at least part of the local case surge discussed below is from a batch of previously unreported tests administered in January. I’ve changed the text to reflect this info and added a link with details. I apologize for passing along any incorrect information.

According to the brand new COVID.gov website, within ten miles of my house there are sixteen pharmacies that’ll give me a Covid test AND treatment with pills if it’s positive. My wife and I can also check ourselves with the free rapid tests sent by the federal government. We’ll probably pop down to the corner drugstore for our second boosters, hopefully without the side effects reported by a friend, who said he felt “like Will Smith slapped me all over.”

Am I a carefree camper? Have we reached this hazy new normal that people keep talking about, where the virus is a routine nuisance and a matter of personal responsibility?

Cue the fire alarm. That yellow patch amid the green in north Georgia represents a chunk of metro Atlanta, where “community levels” of Covid have jumped from low to medium. The next stop is red, which means “high.”

Some of the increase in cases may be caused by a backlog of unreported ones that the state just dumped onto the rolls, but it’s still worrisome, at least to me. For weeks , the experts have been predicting a second Omicron surge from the BA.2 variant.

Info from CDC website April 1, 2022

After two years, I’m not the least bit surprised. I just hate being the bell cow for another wave, especially since most of the country has tuned out the bells altogether.

Some say they’re tired of criticizing others’ Covid decisions. Not me. As John Lydon, aka Johnny Rotten, once said, “Anger is an energy.” I’m holding onto mine. I don’t blast it around recklessly, but it’s staying in the tool box with the tests and the N-95. Take care and be safe.

A not-endemic diary: Unmasking the facts

February 10, 2022

Source: CDC 2/10/2022

My neighbors love to walk. From my desk in front of the window, I see a parade of them: solos, couples, pairs of women, and lots of folks with dogs. Yesterday while taking my own stretch break, I spotted four people and their pups out enjoying the sun on a Wednesday afternoon.

Many are probably working from home, this of course being one way we’ve adjusted to Covid. Now we’re told we may soon reach the point where the virus is endemic and we can “live with Covid” instead of stomping it flat. As part of this newest normal, a flock of Democratic governors are lifting indoor mask mandates, since people are “fatigued” and “tired of coping.”

Georgia has no mandate. But being over 65, no matter where I lived, I’d hold fast to my N95 and stay out of indoor public spaces. I don’t care if this is no longer the conventional wisdom. I’m sticking with instinct, common sense, and data, which tell me things aren’t rosy yet.

True: omicron-fueled cases are down almost two-thirds nationwide. That’s still more than 200,000 every day. Also true: the sheer volume has pushed the average daily death toll over 2,500, the highest level in a year. True once again: Seniors, especially those 75 and older, make up the biggest fraction of the dead.

I have no sympathy for members of my generation who refuse a life-saving vaccine because of politics, misinformation, or plain stubborn stupidity. However – and call me a bitter old coot if you will – it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that a lot of younger folks, including politicians, don’t really care how many of us die. They’d rather go out to dinner than keep their communities and their own relatives safe. They’re the ones the governors are pandering to.

At best, throwing out mandates is premature, as the CDC and many epidemiologists have warned. At worst, Democrats are doing the very thing they rightfully blasted Trump for by elevating politics above science and the public good. A lot of vulnerable seniors and their families will remember that come election time. Take care and be safe.