I haven't posted in many days ...for a reason. I was under quarantine for the Corona virus. Someone I was with had it (we were both laughing and happy and in great spirits), and then he came down with it. He told me and I was not allowed to leave my property for two weeks. Period.
To cut to the chase, he and I are both alive, and, although he went through hell, I remained unscathed. Just think about that for a moment....
I am so very grateful that my wonderful friend did not die from the Coronavirus. VERY VERY UPON BENDED KNEE WITH HEAD BOWED TOWARDS THE HEAVENS SO VER VERY GRATEFUL!!! He is, as I type this, a healthy middle aged man with no pre-existing health issues. That being said, he went through hell and did NOT go to the hospital.
When I started writing this blog, this whole thing was what most people think: a theoretical space where they can never be touched. Fair enough, and why should one feel otherwise? The math states that most people WILL BE fine and that, after this, life will go on. I was part of that circle,.... until that phone call.
When someone you were with in a closed space says, "Hey, I just got the test back and...I am positive for the virus."...the world slows down and you have to literally catch up to the reality you have been given. What I mean is that, our present is very much hooked onto the future, all our future plans and hopes and dreams and ways to make our regrets smaller. But when you get the news....
Look, I have to say as someone who had a cancer scare years ago due to a bad x-ray, I believe I have some idea of tasting the burnt copper flakes of mortality upon their tongue, if even so slight. I say this to place my situation in a place perhaps slightly inside both camps: Those of the Never Facing Their End and Those Who Stare at it Every Single Second. Many friends younger than I have died for absolutely no logical reason. And, just four weeks ago, a beloved friend of mine died after a brief stay in hospice. The concept of the end of my corporeal self is nothing new to me, let's put it that way.
In the book "The Plague", the not-so-vaguely disguised parallel to Camus is named "Jean Tarrou". When he describes himself, as well as his own mother, in the last parts of the novel, it is Camus: he is intelligent, got along well with the ladies, was smart enough to get by with people with whom he associated, had a certain deep love and compassion for his mother, and believed in a pragmatic ideal of humanity. Tarrou's monologue before a swim with Dr. Rieux that night, shows that he, Tarrou, believes that he was always with the plague in his own way. With this belief, as with Camus, he despises the death penalty. His only redemption, without the belief in any God, is to help humanity and act with compassion. To be more precise to the novel, he desires to be a saint while being an atheist. This falls exactly within the paradigm of life being absurd as Camus' main reason of existence.
For two weeks, I sat here and wondered if I was infected, if I was to be given the death penalty for no reason. While this may seem preposterous, I would ask that you keep in mind the never ending stream of news articles that machine gun our retinas these weeks about how the most healthy and youthful have died when they should not have, given the unpredictability of this new virus. My general heath status places me within those that should live, even if it is after a hellish time and with lung problems afterwards. But, with all that being said, my death was not beyond the margins of distinct possibility.
On my perception of all this, all I have say is that it felt insane and absurd that A) via doing no risky and governmentally restricts action and B) doing nothing extraordinary, I got placed in the lottery for the virus. While that is bad enough, one has to live with the fact that, if one is picked from the lottery, there is a roulette wheel awaiting them, as one could go from not having a single symptom and have themselves, as you have read by now, die, painfully and alone.
While it is true that playing with the odds gives one the possibility of salvation, know that it can also lead to a deep anxiety and a (Breaking Bad character) Mike Ehrmantraut level of emotional decision and closure, without the lengthy story arc. Your life, and everything you've done, may or may not be over, simply by existing a simple life.
This virus seems to cut against the shameful pseudo-morality of the AIDS epidemic, the last real plague to hit these shores. One can just be at the post office or at the grocery store and, without warning, be given this slot machine death sentence. It is, perhaps, liberating, that morality cannot touch the flow of this virus. Anyone and everyone is up for grabs.
For a few days, I stayed locked down in my belief that I would be done with and I did what I could to prepare for those who would have to clean up my physical history after I was gone. But the voice, the one that only visits after one attends a funeral, stepped up and screamed if I was okay with everything if I should go. I am not unused to that lyric and melody from the grim reaper, as I have heard it many a time from many different situations. Once the fear of the possible ran out of breath, the silence gavee me enough time to say, in a still but confident voice, "Yeah. Okay. Fine. Type the end of the narrative as you wish. For the moment, I am still here and not giving up a breath." And then I did the dishes.
There is something of a famous saying that goes like, "When one is told they will be executed in the morning, one has a very busy night ahead." I see that as being very true. But, what if one is told that tomorrow they MAY die, without giving a time of their release from prison? Well, that is far more difficult in many ways.
Every cough, every headache, every chill, leaves one thinking the end is ready to consume them. There is not even some telltale mark on the skin to give affirmation. It is always two things: waiting and guessing. It has been said that animals do not fear death, only suffering. It is man whose self-reflexive consciousness fears the inevitable end to all things that exist.
I will say one thing, however. The light coming in from the dawn the first morning was rather beautiful
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