A Writer's Notebook, Day Seven-Hundred-And-Eighty-Six

Early today my mom called to tell me that two of her closest friends are in the hospital now with Covid.  This is an older, married couple, I think in their eighties, but I am not certain.  My mother has been very concerned, of course, as are we all.  These were not people who were taking risks.  They were, from what I can tell, staying home, but they have a house-keeper or aid of some kind and it seems that person brought the virus into their home.  At present, we don't really know anything about their condition.  I know my mother spoke to the husband on the phone after they were admitted, but she doesn't know if either of them are on oxygen or if the wife has been intubated.  We knew she had been sick, outside the hospital, but had not heard that he contracted it.  At some point earlier today, or it may have been last night, the two of them were at home and could not stand up at all.  They called one of their children who is a doctor and were told to call for an ambulance immediately.  The reality of this disease is horrible.  I have already lost people, as have many I know.  The very first wave of the epidemic in NYC took the life of Donald Sorel, the music teacher at my high school, who had been there long before I arrived and was still teaching there until the pandemic.  Other family friends have passed this year.  To be honest, I am not even certain I know everyone who is gone, and I am sure there are others I know who have been sick and recovered but will have long term issues going forward.  Many days I wonder how it is that my closest loved ones are still all here, alive and safe, especially knowing how many seem to be acting as if it is not worth taking any precautions, or who actively disbelieve the events before all our eyes.

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