There’s Always Something

The ornamental pear trees are in full bloom; consequently, so are my allergies. And oh, this is so not the time to have to deal with allergies. Even though there is zero chance that I have The Bob, I have to be especially careful to stay away from people because they don’t know my dry cough and difficulty breathing are from stuffed sinuses and not a virus.

Even worse from my standpoint is that the Colorado governor has asked everyone to wear masks, and anything covering my nose and mouth makes it even that much more difficult to breathe. Yep — so not the time to have to deal with allergies! If it becomes mandatory to wear a mask, I’ll use it for the few minutes I’m inside a store or around people, but other than that, it’s not feasible.

A list of what one can and cannot do during this time is circulating around the internet, and it says you’re not supposed to let anyone in your house — not parents, grandparents, children, grandchildren, best friends. No one. And yet, that’s patently absurd. My toilet quit working, and since I can’t fix it myself, I had to have someone come into my house, which was a good thing. It turned out that the wax ring wasn’t the problem as we had surmised; instead, the whole flange was corroded, so much so that it was difficult for the bolts to be removed. It was also a job for two people. Certainly not a job for one woman who hadn’t a clue what she was doing.

Since these same two fellows were the very last people I’d seen, it didn’t worry me. If they had infected me, then I would be merely returning the favor.

But, as I said, there is zero chance of my having The Bob. Unless the conspiracy theorists are correct that the virus isn’t a virus but the body’s reaction to the new 5G network, there is no way for me to get it. No one in the county has it, and I haven’t been to any counties that do. And even if people here had it, I am hermitting, and haven’t seen anyone. Except for the people who fixed my toilet, of course.

I see photos of empty streets because of people being in lockdown, but that isn’t true here. Since people are allowed out to exercise, I frequently see small groups of people out walking their dogs or simply just walking. In fact, I see more people now out walking than I did before all this started. So, while other people are hoping this is all over soon so that they can be less alone, I am hoping it’s over soon so I can be more alone!

Still, whether people want to be around folks again or to see less of them, we’re all getting a little antsy. In my case, it’s still the knee more than anything else. I’m healed enough to walk now; I just can’t walk very far yet. But that will come.

Meantime, I have allergies to deal with.

There’s always something, isn’t there? I hope your “somethings” is as minor as mine are.

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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.

Turtle Time

I have spent the past three days on Amelia Island, taking walks and resting. I’ve been fighting a cold or a sinus infection. I don’t know which — sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. All I know is that I’ve been congested, enervated, and had a tendency to crankiness. Even worse, I haven’t been feeling the thrill of this journey. In my defense, it’s hard to be wide-eyed with wonder for weeks on end (eight weeks so far!), especially if one is fighting to breathe.

Still, this has been a lovely place to roam around — walks on the beach and hikes through Egan’s Creek Greenway, a 300-acre nature preserve. On all those excursions, the biggest joy, besides the lovely scenery of course, was catching glimpses of turtles. Often they were shy and slipped into the water before I could get a photo, but a couple of times they stopped and pretended to be rocks. One fellow even posed for me.

Despite signs warning about the presence of alligators, I didn’t get to see one. The rustling in the bushes that I thought might be an alligator turned out to be a rabbit, but I did see a lot of dragonflies and one lone cardinal.

My idyll on Amelia Island is coming to an end. Tomorrow I head into Georgia. I hope I can ditch the crankiness and muster the enthusiasm necessary to make the most of the opportunity. There is so much to see and experience and be grateful for.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)