It Could Happen
Today is October 29th. I’m writing ahead a bit. When this goes live on the blog on 11/9, October will be over. At least I think so. I’m doing one of those don’t-know-the-day routines. And it’s still 2020, so we may have gotten some weird Daylight Savings Time extension for this month. Or someone finally got their magic wand in the mail and reset this awfulness ahead or behind or to wherever the world screwed up for a do-over.
It could happen.
But I don’t think my magic wand order from early March was ever received. I didn’t get the email verification and figured Wands-R-Us went out of business…
By the time you read this, the election will be over. At least I think so, though it wouldn’t surprise me if we don’t have a winner figured out. Or someone else came in and declared themselves POTUS and the other two old white guys and their respective possies decided this mess we’re in would be better off dealt with by someone else. Anyone else.
It could happen.
And my quarantine will be over. I hope.
Yup. That’s right. I’m the unhappy recipient of a small dose of Covid. Very small, I think. For that, I’m thankful. But it came on the convergence of all that lab work, thyroid hoo-ha, and the onset of allergies. Or was it just allergies?
Who knows where I picked it up. Likely multiple lab and doc visits had something to do with it. Or the flu shot I got a few days before taxed my immune system and Covid came in for the sneak attack.
That could’ve happened.
And, as grumpy as I’d been about the previously listed maladies, I’m grateful they stymied my already diminished out-and-about-around-human interaction opportunities. I’d been hanging close to home simply because of bright lights, headaches, and generally not feeling well. No fever though—until the flu shot took hold, sending a six-inch bright red streak down my arm from the injection site.
Yeah. That happened.
At any rate, the very morning of the day I was to have lunch with my mother, I discovered my taste buds had packed their bags for an extended vacation.
It took trying a multitude of breakfast items, tossing each into the trash with a gag and an “Oh my word! All the food in my kitchen went bad at once.” Biscuits, bananas, sausage. All of it rancid. All at once.
What on earth did Walmart Grocery do? Send us bad food? When they picked my order, did they leave it in the hot sun? They’re gonna get a phone call…
Then slowly, slowly (remember, thyroid fog, right?) it dawned on me. Then I panicked and tried a potato chip. Nothing.
Peanut butter. Nothing. Just my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth by a tasteless paste.
Peanut butter on top of lime sherbert. (Can you sense my desperation?)
Zip. Zilch. Nada.
Then I heard Stella Marie kicking around in the litter box.
But I didn’t smell Stella Marie.
Now, Stella is the most drop-dead gorgeous cat with the sweetest little personality. But man. Her litter box trips usually send us all scrambling for the pooper scooper, a Walmart sack, and a trip to the outside bin for fresh air if nothing else.
But I couldn’t smell Stella.
Then I knew.
And I called my mom and cancelled lunch. And called my doctor who sent me on a wild goose chase to track down an open appointment slot in our area to get the infamous NG swab.
Again, I think my case may have been the mildest of mild. Vague aches. Weakness. No smell. No taste. One night of an excruciating headache (which became downright scary when the pain got so bad that I broke out in pajama-drenching sweat). The residual headache lasted a coupe of days.
I had exactly one coughing spell.
But overall, I think I got off lucky.
Or blessed. Let’s call it blessed.
For the loss of taste on that very first day, I am so very thankful. Had I discovered it a day later (or even four hours later), I would’ve dined with Mom, visited an aunt, and likely checked in on the mom-in-law. Because I was feeling fine (only allergies, right? Flu shot fatigue? Grumpy thyroid leftovers?). I’d have exposed my three gals for sure as I blamed my vague symptoms on a slew of other things.
A week later, and my taste buds have returned. Well, five or so of them. The five that are responsible for detecting vinegar. Vinegar in broccoli cheddar soup (which I won’t have again for many, many, many years). Vinegar in plain toast. Vinegar in the pot roast. Vinegar in my cinnamon roll.
And the smell thing isn’t much better. Mostly I smell burnt popcorn — though no one has burned anything nor has anyone popped popcorn. I still can’t smell Stella.
Occasionally I smell the Lysol.
Often I smell vinegar.
But today, October 29th, I’m feeling a bit clearer headed. I’m much less weak. I’ve not had to collapse on the couch in a fit of exhaustion since waking up four hours ago. Yesterday I was on the couch after two hours of “up time” (though I haven’t ventured outside in the rain to get the mail. That did me in yesterday for round three on the couch).
Today I will remain upright until the mail comes — and beyond!
It could happen! Baby steps here without the aid of a magic wand. Tiny goals…
I’m looking at my calendar (Go ahead and laugh. It’s okay…) and tentatively planning in very light and highly erasable pencil some writing projects for November. If November and the people waiting in those days behave.
Hey, it could happen.
I’m excited about the projects. Some publishing stuff.
Some writing stuff.
A nice mix for my mixed-up, muddled mind. Tiny little tidbits that I can control no matter what the next few weeks hold.
I did get that collection up and running that I’d mentioned a few weeks ago. It’s live in the Amazon shop and it’s under the Book tab here on the blog: All the Feels Volume 3.
Slowly, slowly, I’m wrangling all those short stories into something that looks like progress.
And I started on the newsletter signup process. It’s a work in progress that got stalled by, well, if you’ve read this far you know why it got stalled.
So, dear Reader, you’re in November. November 9th or maybe a few days later depending when you stumbled onto this post. I’m back there on October 29th. I don’t know what your world looks like yet. The one I’ve yet to catch up to.
Maybe its tumultuous with election junk, virus junk, riots, blazes, or ice storms. Boy I sure hope not.
Maybe its peaceful. Perhaps allowing a deep exhale from this wonky-donkey-butt year we’ve all had.
Hey, that could happen.
Perhaps you’ve found a way to unwind. To stay healthy and active and engaged in something positive. Perhaps you’ve discovered a quiet, soul-filling activity to ease your mind and heart.
Perhaps you’ve turned your back on the chaos and said “Stuff it,” and refocused your energy on something you can control in your own little world.
And if you’ve been successful, when I catch up to you on November 9th, we can swap tips. At the very least we can swap some daydreams and gratitude lists and place our magic wand orders together from that new start-up I saw the other day.
I heard there’s a discount if you buy the wands in bulk…