I’m not sick very often and, in fact, I rarely even catch a cold, which is a weird statement. Like someone is out there with a butterfly net, tromping through crowds thinking, “Dang it, I caught one right here last year, now where is it?” I’m rarely ill but last fall I caught, got or had Covid. I didn’t like it and I don’t want to have it again, but I don’t want to ever have a lot of things again; a broken arm comes to mind.

During my foray into the virus, one symptom was I didn’t really want to talk. Gar took this as a real plus and barely contained his joy. As the congestion worsened, I became a world-class snorer extraordinaire. At one point, Gar brought me a meme he’d seen online stating, “When a guy is really into you, he doesn’t care if you snore while sleeping. He’ll be like, “Snore for me you sexy, diesel-powered generator.” Lucky for me, my hubs has a sense of humor, and it helps that he’s hard of hearing. I also lost my sense of taste. My offspring would lament, “We’ve eaten your cooking and seen your clothing style. You never had taste.”

Gar was vaccinated with the two-shot Moderna last spring. He’s got an autoimmune disease and takes medication that lowers his immune response so his physician and our birthed doctor felt it important that he be vaccinated. They never fussed much about me. I didn’t have anything that would compromise my health and I’m sure the kids are convinced, and in despair, that I’m too ornery to ever die. Since I’m so rarely taken down by a bug maybe there’s truth to that, and also to something Gar liked to chortle when he was feeling particularly brave, “I think you haven’t gotten Covid because you’re a carrier…of all bad things.”

I didn’t get vaccinated and I’m not proud of it, but one reason I didn’t get the shot was because so many people in positions of authority were demanding it. I’ve told you, I barely take suggestions, so when someone starts shouting orders, I’m like a ninja, darting through the forest of rebellion. I also know Jesus as my savior so I’m certain that to die is gain. I gave our doctor-son this two-part answer when he asked me if I’d get vaccinated when his dad did. While at the hospital later, a colleague asked him how he got people to take the shot? Tanner scoffed, “Heck, I dunno, I can’t even get my mom to take the shot.”

I’m also not sorry I wasn’t vaccinated because Gar came down with Covid symptoms four days before me. He’d been sick with what we thought was just a bug, and slept a lot. I kept working and feeling frisky until about 1 a.m. on a Thursday morning when my body woke me and said, “I didn’t think we were drinkers and I know we’re not exercise zealots, so whatever it was we did last night, we’re on the losing end of that deal now.” It’s true, my head was pounding like I’d seen the bottom of a bottle of Jim Beam and my legs were aching, as if I might have unknowingly entered, then like an idiot, ran, the Boston Marathon. Since running for me would be even farther fetched than alcohol consumption, I knew I was doomed.

Amazingly, the next morning I got up and fixed breakfast. Am I a robot, Pavlov’s dog or just stupid? Let’s not say the latter, even though that’s the one right there. I rested that day, fixed dinner that night, took cold medicine to help me sleep and woke the next day feeling perhaps more miserable than before. On a lighter note…Gar nearly died that day. Keep in mind he doesn’t cook. At all. And if he mentions “we” could make something, he doesn’t mean him. Here we were, curled cat-like in our fuzzy jammies on our separate sofas. I considered taking Gar’s pulse but I didn’t know what a cat’s pulse should be. As we snuggled under fleece blankets, we were up to our ears in wheezing, weakness, coughing and fatigue, but since I had still managed to make meals, Gar in all seriousness, turned to me and said, “Maybe we could make cinnamon rolls tomorrow.” I didn’t respond because my only hopeful thought was, “Has homicide recently been made legal?” Sometimes Gar sails a stormy sea and doesn’t even know it.

Trena Eiden                  trenaid@hotmail.com