COVID Strikes Again! And Again...and Again!
Like everyone else in the world, COVID has impacted our lives repeatedly. Each time something happens, we look to find the good in the situation. Isolated at home in the spring? Great togetherness time with fabulous views. Summer Hawaii family vacation plans canceled? Everyone comes to Wyoming. Thanksgiving gathering canceled? Zoom to the rescue. Fingers, toes, and other mobile body parts are crossed that Christmas isn’t canceled, too.
But it’s been more than that. Even in the “Corona Alamo” of northern Wyoming, Scot managed to bring the virus home. We shared two more weeks of togetherness, bemoaning our fate, and caring for each other. That whole “in sickness and in health” line came to mind. We’ve fully recovered, and according to the latest study out of the University of Arizona, we have a minimum of five months of antibodies and not having to worry about being sick again.
However, being sick exposed us to some interesting human relations dynamics. There were the friends who were willing to expose themselves to the virus in order to take care of us. There were people who checked in with us every single day to make sure we were on the mend. Unfortunately, there are also the folks who now treat us as lepers. In their minds, completely disregarding CDC and Health Department guidelines, we could be “shedding” virus contaminates indefinitely, and they’re taking no chances. On the other hand, our antibody-rich blood is now in high demand, and we’ve been reminded to donate. We appreciate beyond measure the people who cared for us. We’ll share our blood to help other people recover. We’ll respect the wishes of people who want to stay far…far away from us.
So what does all of this have to do with my writing efforts? In my last blog I shared that I had signed up for NaNoWriMo, and I was determined to write 50,000 words by the end of November. The vicious headache followed by overwhelming fatigue completely wiped out five or six days of writing. But then…sitting at the computer and typing seemed like the only activity my sick body was capable of. No temptation to do yardwork or housework. Sitting still, moving my fingers a little bit, that I could handle.
And so I wrote, and wrote some more. I have a prickly rough draft of more than 54,000 words. It’s far from the final version and will likely grow longer. I’m healthy, I’m in my happy place in Estes Park, and I’m grateful my home here wasn’t impacted too badly from the fires. All of that means the manuscript will definitely improve.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you! In the craziness of 2020, be sure to count your blessings!