November 18, 2020
If you don’t count today,
there are 37 more days until Christmas. And a week from tomorrow, my American
friends have their Thanksgiving Day, followed, of course, by Black Friday.
All these “special holidays”
in the midst of a pandemic certainly make for interesting, and complicated
times.
I’ve been sitting in my little
bubble up here in Canada, with my little routines, and only going out for medical
related appointments, and to check in on my brother-in-law, my late sister’s
husband, for whom I am “the designated alternate decision maker”. Yes, I
promised him I would serve as his power of attorney shortly after my sister’s
death. Of course, despite the fact that he was about ten years her senior, I
never imagined I would have to do anything. Sadly, he has Parkinson’s and
dementia, and has needed my help since 2018. He’s in hospital and has been for
awhile, because he cannot manage on his own, and because dementia has caused
behaviors in him that translate to his sometimes being a danger to others, and
to himself.
My brother-in-law isn’t happy
about being where he is, and that to me is the saddest thing of all. You see,
he believes he can take care of himself just fine. Of course, he can’t. I had
never before had any close contact with someone who has dementia. It’s a heart-breaking
disease, one I sincerely hope I never develop. And if I do, I hope I don’t turn
miserable and ornery with it, because that is just no good at all, for anyone. Fortunately
for me, my daughter has delt with dementia patients and was able to give me
some pointers. Still, I really hope I never get it.
But since we have no say over
what might occur in the future during our aging process, I can only hope for
the best.
So here I am in my bubble, as
I said, and at this time staying home with no visitors because of course the
entire continent is having a surge in Covid-19. We are having one here in Canada
but our numbers are not nearly as high as those in the U.S. Since we are by
choice, more or less on lockdown, I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s
happening “out there”. One train of thought I rode for a while was that it’s
going to be really hard for people who do not even believe that Covid-19
exists, if they get it. They don’t wear masks, they don’t social distance
because they don’t believe it’s real. It’s going to be a real shock for those
folks if they contract the virus. And I was wondering how many of them would
have to contract it in order to make a difference to the anti-masking crowd. I
have seen several individuals on different news casts saying that they thought
it was a hoax until they got sick themselves. Then they look into the camera
and say words to the affect of, “Covid is real. Wear a damn mask.”
The key part in that last
paragraph was that I was wondering.
Because I read reports in the
last few days from a healthcare provider in the Dakotas who says she’s had patients
whose dying words deny the virus. Here I was safe in my belief that more people
would admit it’s not a hoax when they or their family members actually contract
it, and they put paid to that idea completely. They’re so anti-fact that they’re
refusing to believe, even in the face of their own impending death from it that
Covid-19 is real.
Well, that just seals it. It's
official. I will never understand some people.
I was all prepared with this
logical argument to make here today, that it’s better to miss one Thanksgiving dinner
with family now and enjoy the rest of them together through the years yet to
come than it is to insist you have to celebrate as a crowd of 25 this
year—and end up losing possibly several family members to the virus.
But why should I bother trying?
If the people I am trying to reach are so obtuse as to cling to their lies even
in the face of their own imminent deaths, why should I think I have even a
snowball’s chance in hell of changing their minds?
So I am not going to belabor
the points I’ve made about this damn pandemic anymore. You want to be “free”? You
want to not wear a mask because “it’s not about a virus, it’s about control”? [By
the way, I saw that on a billboard during a newscast last week and had to give
my head a shake] Okay. You win. Don’t wear a mask.
As long as you stay away from
me, and don’t get close to anyone who doesn’t believe as you believe. I
hope you don’t get sick and die. Seriously, I don’t wish that on anyone. But if
you do? Ah, well. Sorry about your luck.
Since I mentioned Christmas at
the opening of this essay, I’ll finish with it—or rather, by reimagining an exchange
in the movie, A Christmas Carol—the Alastair Sim version. In the original, two
men seeking donations for the poor were trying to get Scrooge to open his money
bag. Scrooge responded by asking the men if there were no prisons? Were there
no workhouses? Do you recall that scene? So, instead of workhouses, let’s
imagine that Scrooge asked about masks instead.
I know I said I wasn’t going
to bother, but I can’t not. Thanksgiving comes every year; so does Christmas.
Get together next year, and it will be a sweeter reunion, and because of your great,
super-human sacrifice of missing one holiday season in person gathering, there
will be chairs filled at your table that might otherwise, next year, be empty.
Covid is real. Wear a damn
mask.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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