A tall, heavy young man came into the lab and approached the check-in iPad. He might have been Hispanic, Samoan, I don't know. Something slightly darker than pale. He looked like a wrestler. I noted his baggy red shorts and floppy team jersey. I bent my head back to my fingers. I missed the moment when he slapped the tablet, knocking it off its perch and sending the table sign flying onto the floor.“I can't figure this out,” he said in disgust. One of the check-in staff left his cubicle and hurried to get the young man checked in. In an effort to distance myself from emotional drama, I moved to a chair directly outside the door I was trying to get through and stared at it, willing it to open and admit me so I could move on with my day. The young man took a seat to wait for his turn in the x-ray machine. My back was to what happened next.
“What's the problem?” I turned around briefly and saw two uniformed security officers flanking the young man, who now was on his feet, towering over both of them. I quickly bent my head and pretended I didn't exist.
“What? Why are you hassling me?”
“Let's go into the hall and talk about it.”
“What is your problem?”
The back-and-forth continued. I thought, this is how it happens. Arrogant people in power make assumptions in the name of public safety. Next thing you know, multiple people are dead. In a few minutes, the encounter was over. I couldn't hear all of it, and I didn't want to. I sat still, adopting a freeze and maybe they won't notice me strategy. We all survived. If that young man had been a few shades darker, it's likely the outcome would have been different.
After the drama ended, I meandered diffidently over to a check-in clerk, who looked up my check-in information and confirmed, yes, I had indeed somehow fallen off the list, so sorry. In a few more tedious minutes, I was invited through the door. Soon, I was punctured, patched, and on my way.
In for a penny. Time to address the next item on my task list. I headed over to the pharmacy nearby to get my second shingles vaccine. The wait wasn't as long.
“Getting it all in one arm, eh?” The pharmacist noted the cotton taped on my elbow. He looked like a young Ben Affleck. I could feel my smile returning.
“Yep. Luckily I have two arms, I can afford to lose one for a while.”
“You probably remember the side effects of this vaccine? Relax your arm. This will burn a little going in.” I looked at the ceiling as the needle went into my shoulder. “It can make you feel like you have the flu.”
I stared at him in dismay. No, I had completely forgotten.
“I think it was just a day,” I said slowly, totally not remembering.
“Hope so. Some people have five miserable days.”
My mother's nursing home instituted a no-visitors policy that afternoon. Despite my increasing muscle aches, I visited with her outside her window, scribbling and holding up notes for her to read. No, I can't come in because of the virus. I got a shingles shot today, ouch! I miss you. I love you. I'll see you tomorrow. No, I can't come in.
Our visit was cut short when she pointed to the bathroom. I waved and walked away, loathe to watch my mother struggle in the bathroom with no way for me to help.
Regular doses of ibuprofen kept me going as the shingles vaccine ravaged my body. I moaned and groaned through two long nights and emerged on the third day feeling refreshed just in time to see the stock market tank. So long, IRA!
Now it's a few days later. The no-visitor policy remains in effect at the nursing home, and the staff are screened and masked. If that virus gets in, all those old frail seniors will drop like flies. I'm staying home from everything but visiting Mom outside her window, doing my part to flatten the curve. The two inches of snow we had yesterday definitely inspired me to lay low. Not to mention my near-constant allergy attacks. My brother says tree pollen, but I suspect indoor mold. The libraries are closed. I hear there are lines outside the grocery store. My sister is flying to Boston from France next week. I hope she makes it. I'm freezing and scared. I miss my cat. Every damn day feels like a snow day.
An acquaintance told me (on the phone) that she wasn't curtailing any of her activities. She gets around on public transportation. I pictured her boarding buses with her wheeled suitcase, spewing germs. Appalled, I said, even if you know you could be spreading the virus? She said she believed the world was coming to an end soon, so it didn't matter. I said lamely, well, at least your behavior is consistent with your beliefs. I wanted to say, I don't care if you are ready to die, but I'd prefer if you didn't take me down with you. But I didn't.
This might be the end of civilization, I don't know. I think we are seeing how fragile the veneer of civilization really is as people yell at Asians and hoard toilet paper. At some point, I'll have to go forage for food at Winco. Meanwhile, I will hunker down in the Love Shack, mopping my dripping nose and compulsively reading the news.
Stay safe, blogbots.
