Day 29 - Governor Newsom reinstates the mask mandate in California

I finished this book today…

Omicron cases are starting to peak as it burns through the country; in South Africa, Omicron cases have almost flat-lined. American schools, in particular, seem to be the most affected as teachers are falling out like dominoes. Schools are forced to close temporarily because there is simply not enough staff to keep them open as Omicron tears through the school districts.  Not to worry, though, because sick employees are returning to work, still symptomatic and within days of having called off, ready to “spread again” in accordance with the obligatory 5-day CDC quarantine standard. I think the reduced quarantine might be contributing to the incredible number of cases affecting America…I was unable to verify these statistics, but I read the US is currently experiencing 800,000 Omicron infections per day, and 2600 deaths per day. I mean, 800,000 a day? The number of infections makes sense if employees are being forced to return to work a mere 5-days after contracting Omicron. 

Chicago Public Schools was hit especially hard and is currently incredibly understaffed so the Chicago Teachers Union thought it might be better to revert to Distance Education temporarily. That bitch, Mayor Lightfoot, [my Mom calls her Mayor “Beatlejuice” because her hair is a f—kng mess] screamed that Distance Education hurts kids and yelled at the teachers to “get back in the classrooms and do your jobs”…simply because the CPS wants to revert to online instruction for one week as Omicron cases are currently spiking in that community. One week! 

 Additionally, CPS pointed out that none of the precautions they requested were implemented so they would like to convert to online until, say, air purifiers are placed in the classroom. Why can’t Chicago use some of the funds from Build Back Broke to format the classrooms? Mayor Lightfoot screaming at the teachers that converting to Distance Education is going to “harm our children” is inexcusable.  CPS does NOT want to shut down for 18 months like schools did at the beginning of the pandemic…they just want to wait until the Omicron spike starts plummeting, which should be around next week. The schools are understaffed, not just here, but throughout the country, because the teachers, and other employees, are contracting Omicron and calling in sick…then returning, still contagious, and infecting even more staff, and then repeating the cycle.                                                                

 Remember when Americans referred to teachers and medical staff as “front-line” and “essential” workers? Remember when Americans clapped and banged pots and pans for health-care workers every evening in recognition of the job they were doing? Now, teachers unions [and traveling nurses] are vilified. In fact, the media stopped using the terms “front line” and “essential” altogether because that would mean employees assigned this status might be able to ask for higher wages…so we just pretend that teachers and nurses are doing nothing exceptional and teachers have become a national scapegoat.  

And finally, even blue states are saying it’s time to put Covid-19 behind us as we “learn to live with Covid” and move into the “endemic” stage [which we’re NOT doing…800,000 infections per day? 2600 deaths per day? That’s “endemic”?]. Besides, referring to employees as front line and essential would mean we are still in the throes of an actual pandemic and, as a country, we’re pretending that Omicron is no longer a problem…especially with the November midterms looming.   

Are we really supposed to pretend that Omicron doesn’t exist?  We’re at 900,000 deaths now, and climbing, since this mess started.  This is what  “learning to live with Covid” looks like? Un-fucking-believable.

 1/13/22. Thursday

8:00-8:30 – I’m up. Since I had Omicron, I’ve had this residual chest congestion every morning that I just can’t seem to shake.  Long Covid??? Mornings are extremely rough for me and my body hurts.  I take two Advil.  There is some good news…my hand feels soooo much better. 

8:30-9:00 – I go downstairs to say good morning to the animal. When she sees me, she rolls over on her back and I pet her tummy, then cue her to go outside.  She grabs her toy and we head to the backyard…I stand around on the patio waiting for her to finish her business. She finally goes potty and we return inside. Turkey for her; coffee for me. I go upstairs and lie down again, sipping my coffee and waiting for it to kick in.  I feel incredibly fatigued. I listen to The Daily. 

9:00-9:30 – I don’t have the energy to get up so I’m still in bed and drinking my coffee.  I listen to Organize 365. 

9:30-11:00 – I sit in the shower, lean my head against the tiles, and ice my eyes. Lotion. Covid-19 uniform. Full make-up. I listen to What a Day. 

11:00-4:00 – B. arrives with Starbucks and donuts. We sit outside, at my patio table, and talk politics. I’d rather be outside than inside and I lock the dog inside the house while B. and I are outside. At some point, B. asks me how I’m feeling and I relay that I think I might have Long Covid. He’s noncommittal about it, so I don’t elaborate further. Why bring other people down with constant discussion of how I’m feeling which, more recently, is not great. I complain enough about it in this blog.

B. leaves and I walk him to his car.  When I return, I see that the dog peed in the middle of the floor so I clean it up. I think she was mad at me because I locked her inside.

4:00-5:00 – I thaw one of my Thanksgiving TV dinners and read Everything I Have.

5:00-5:30 – I get dressed in my walking clothes: black leggings, zip up sweatshirt, beanie, jacket.  I bring gloves and my flashlight.

5:30-5:45 – I leave for the first meeting of the Striders walking group, offered through my City.

6:00-I arrive very early, at City Hall, where we’re supposed to start the walk. I don’t know anybody and I feel...well…stupid, for lack of a better word. I’m not sure what to do. New experiences are always tough…but once you get past the awkwardness of the first encounter, everything becomes a lot easier. This is Day 1 so it’s awkward…the next time I go will be better…the next time after that, better still. You just have to ‘hold fast’, go the distance, and eventually you’ll feel comfortable.

6:30-7:30 – I check in and the coordinator asks us to briefly introduce ourselves – we only have to say our names – and then we just start walking, most of us single-file.  There’s a few people who seem to know each other and those people walk and talk in pairs. An older couple sets the pace (they’re very fast), followed by a single, older man, then me, then a group of people behind me. I walk alone and fast because I want to get some cardio in.  

I’m not familiar with this paseo and I enjoy walking it and seeing different aspects of our city while on foot.  Even though we’re walking in the evening, most of the sidewalks are well lit and I don’t need my flashlight, BUT…we get a chance to move through some wooded areas, too, while still walking on pavement. If I was alone, I  would have been mugged at various points of the paseo, but there’s safety in numbers and I’m walking in a group. I discover that I like walking at night!  I can see the stars, the air is crisp, and I’m moving quick enough to get a nice cardio workout. This is great! We walk 3 miles in an hour…that’s a nice clip.  

We finish the loop and return to the parking lot where everybody makes an immediate beeline to their cars…no socializing chit-chat around here, which I can appreciate.  The female from the older couple who set the pace says to me, in parting, as we walk to our vehicles, “Well, this was your first time and you kept up pretty good!” I tell the husband/wife team that they’re in incredible shape and a tough act to follow, but I’m secretly pleased with the compliment. This was fun! I’m definitely coming back next Thursday.

7:30-8:00 – Driving home

8:00-9:00 – L. returns from Chick Fil A. I have three of her fries and talk to her about her day.

9:00-10:30 – I finish Everything I Have.

Another memoir down and this book is incredibly disturbing. Eleanor Henderson, the author and, at the time, recent high school valedictorian, meets her husband when she is 18, after wandering into a music store and seeing Aaron behind the counter.  

Okay…so even back then (this is my demographic)…everyone knew that people who worked at music stores [think “Music Plus”], selling CDs and LPs, were going nowhere in life. This has NEVER been a coveted position to aspire to so you know this guy’s a loser from the jump.  Eleanor had to have known this, too, even at the tender age of 18, because I knew that, at the tender age of 18. 

A month into dating, Aaron reveals that he is 25-years-old and never finished high school.  A few months after that, Eleanor is accepted to a college in Vermont and Aaron agrees to follow Eleanor, much to her delight. The two are “in love” but, really, I think Aaron saw the potential in Eleanor, glommed onto her from the beginning, and never let go. From this point forward, Aaron never works again and, starting when Eleanor is 18 and for the next 20 years and two children later, the couple are completely, entirely, financially supported by Eleanor via her two books, free-lance writing gigs, adjunct instructor position, and any other odd jobs she can cobble together to try to put food on the table and save their house from foreclosure. It is all on her and it is…disgusting.  

This tale reads as if it was written by a single mother [re-read Lady Parts, by Deborah Copaken], except the third child in this saga is…Aaron. Shockingly, this is the least of their problems… 

In 2011, when both boys are fully in school from 7:00-3:00 p.m., which is around the time most stay-at-home Moms would begin looking for a part-time job, Aaron suspiciously comes down with a mysterious rash that metamorphs [spell?] into an infection?...delusion?... wherein Aaron believes his body is overrun by parasites for the next 11 years and counting. The rest of their lives are consumed by doctor’s appointments, 72-hour psych. holds, and Aaron’s obsession with his body and the (alleged) parasites that are making their way through his skin.  

BUT, this memoir is a “medical mystery”, too.  It turns out that a small group of people also share the same symptoms as Aaron (the main symptom being the release of tiny colored fibers that protrude from the skin, usually during a full moon - when parasites typically spawn - although there are a host of other symptoms) who have ultimately received the diagnosis of Morgellon’s Disease. The couple travel globally to attend medical seminars that Eleanor can’t afford and as the reader, we are placed in the same position as Eleanor – a masterful writing technique – where we, too, along with Eleanor, continually wonder, “Is it true?” “Is his body really infected with parasites?” “Is he delusional?”   

And so, what to do?  Leave your husband in his time of need when he might be legitimately sick? Doctors on both sides either reject or support the diagnosis, but it’s enough to drive anyone crazy, because nobody can conclusively say whether or not Aaron is truly sick. Be that as it may, Eleanor doesn’t have time to break down because she’s the breadwinner and solely responsible for supporting her sons and Aaron, while at the same time holding down a job so they can have health insurance for Aarons innumerable problems. 

It should be noted that it appears that almost every patient at these Morgellon seminars are gainfully employed and supporting themselves…Hmmmm. This is entirely glossed over, but if you read the paragraphs closely [don’t skim], several of the patients discuss how Morgellons has affected their work…I say again, these people are still employed.  Aaron, however, is not.  

As time goes on, the emotional manipulation that Aaron inflicts on Eleanor is horrible. If he sees her attention waning or not 100% focused on him, he threatens to kill himself, or pretends to overdose on  pills.  There’s a famous bathroom scene where he “can’t take it anymore”, and rushes for the medicine cabinet to ostensibly overdose on a bottle of whatever medication he’s taking while Eleanor wrestles the pill bottle away from him. At this point in the memoir, I thought, “Just let him take the pills.” It’s a testament to Eleanor’s resolve that SHE never tries to kill herself… 

On numerous occasions, Aaron calls Eleanor, usually when she is out with the boys, to say he just took some pills, or he fell down, or he needs an ambulance, RIGHT NOW.  Then, Eleanor and the boys are forced to abandon whatever good time they’re having and rush home to make sure Aaron is okay. Apparently, Aaron attempted suicide in his car many years ago, but “by the grace of God” the attempt failed and the paramedics were able to get there in time.  Hmmmm…. Did the attempt really fail OR are those just “hesitation marks?” This original suicide “attempt” lingers formidably over the family and all of Aaron’s empty threats as Eleanor lives in fear that “he’ll try again.” 

One day, Aaron thought Eleanor was ignoring him, so he left the house in secret and took off walking in a foot of snow, without his cell phone, when all the while Eleanor thought Aaron was upstairs, since earlier that day, he claimed to be bedridden. As she is preparing dinner, Eleanor sees a SUV come up the driveway and watches Aaron exit the vehicle!  When she rushes out to see what happened, Aaron calmly explains that Eleanor was not taking him seriously, so he took a walk in the snow, deliberately leaving his cell-phone behind. A kind neighbor saw him walking and gave him a ride. 

Hmmm.  Earlier in the day, Aaron couldn’t get out of bed…but now he can wade through the snow for a couple of miles?  Maybe the parasites were hibernating at that time… Does this mean he can get a job now? No – that never happens. 

I hate to be crass, but Eleanor reveals in the memoir that sex and “blow jobs” make Aaron feel a lot better so she obliges whenever she can. Hmmmm…emotional AND sexual manipulation.  This guy is a piece of work. 

This emotional manipulation trickles down to the boys as well, who tend to dote on their father while he moans on the couch in pain, asking him, “Are you okay, Dad?”  “You need anything, Dad?” They frequently, anxiously, take Eleanor aside and say, “What’s wrong with Daddy?”  “Is Dad going to be okay?” This might be the most heartbreaking section of the book… 

It is telling that the above crises rarely happen when Eleanor is AT WORK.  It’s almost as if Aaron knows that Eleanor’s various jobs are the only thing keeping them financially afloat and that he better not fuck with her income.  Hmmmm  

As if all of this weren’t enough, Aaron also reveals to Eleanor that he was repeatedly molested by his father.  Still later, Aaron reveals that he had a cocaine and heroin addiction. “Had” is the wrong verb tense because Aaron infrequently reaches out to various drug dealers throughout his marriage to Eleanor whenever he needs a “fix” or to score dope. Using Eleanor’s money, of course. 

By the end of the book, it’s obvious that their oldest son is starting to realize what a loser his Dad is. Aaron has a habit of playing “Zen”  music on his guitar in the evenings.  One day, the eldest boy casually comments to Eleanor, “Dad’s music is so beautiful…why doesn’t he do something with it?” Translation: Why doesn’t Dad have a job? Eleanor doesn’t know how to respond. 

Another wonderful memoir, featuring “a woman of white privilege, with first-world problems” who has, somehow, kept it together for the past 20 years. I’m starting to see more and more of these memoirs that are finally featuring MY demographic and MY struggles. How refreshing! Highly recommend.