Much of the rhetoric surrounding The Bob continues to mystify me. Today several links showed up in my Facebook feed touting the necessity for testing everyone in the country and vilifying those who aren’t with the program. And yet, a recent study showed that accuracy of the tests varied depending on how and when samples were collected. For example, if a person was infected with the disease, but the test is done too early before there is a great enough concentration of the virus to detect, then the person is given a clean bill of health and is left to infect everyone they come in contact with. If a person has symptoms, then the tests are more accurate, but they are still not exact. Chest CT scans accurately identified infection in 98 percent of cases whereas RT-PCR tests detected it correctly 71 percent of the time.
It makes sense, then, to continue the way things are, testing people who show symptoms to enable the medical establishment to set a treatment protocol. But for the rest of us? How does getting tested help? If we test negative, we still have to stay away from people because a) we might be sick and b) we might still get sick. And if we test positive, but don’t feel sick, we still have to stay away from people.
Despite my concerns about people getting all het up about this disease and demanding results when no one knows for sure what is really going on, I am staying away from people.
That is, I am staying away except for a brief time today.
Today a friend stopped by bearing gifts — a lovely pad Thai, a vial of healing oil (for my knee) made by a monk, and an even more healing hug.
Yeah, I know. Keep one’s distance. But truly, if I were to die because of a hug, then . . . well, then I’d be dead and wouldn’t care. And if I were to get sick? I’ll do what I’ve always done — go to bed, stop eating, drink water, and wait for my body to heal itself. So far, it’s worked, even with some very serious and rather painful illnesses.
But I’m not concerned about any repercussions from a simple hug. I’ve already spent time with these friends during this era of disease, and so far, we’re doing well.
I’m also doing well on the gift front. I got an email notification today of a gift that will be arriving in the next couple of weeks:
That cracked me up. The perfect gifts for these times!
Nature, too, is bringing me gifts. This little beauty is no bigger than my thumbnail.
I checked my order of bulbs from last fall, and I did order miniature daffodils, but by the description, it seemed as if they were simply smaller versions of the normal daffodils, not these itty-bitty things. In fact, until I took a photo, I didn’t even realize what they were! They are cute, though. I wouldn’t mind a whole yard of them. They are supposed to spread like normal daffodils, but they also go to seed, so there’s hope.
And if not, there’s always next year.
Because yes, for most people, there will be a next year and the wonderful gift of more time.
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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.
But that wasn’t the worst of my ordeal at this woman’s house. The worst was the refrigerator. Rotten fruits and vegetables. Fuzzy green unidentified leftovers. Ancient bottles and jars that were long expired or would have been if they had expiration dates. (I think expiration dates on all packaged food came much later.) I got sick every single time I went over there and I wanted to quit, but one of my parents insisted I fulfill my obligation. The other parent, in a rare moment of sticking up for me, argued that I shouldn’t have to do something that made me ill. Odd that I can’t remember which parent wanted me to go and which took my side, but it no longer matters. It was so very long ago.
