Post Covid Sartorial Splendor

I dressed up in November for the Chamber of Commerce masquerade. This is a 1920s dress and I had to repair the lace around both arm openings. The underdress is rust colored silk and is beaded. The overdress is lace with the beaded and fringed flower with a tassel on the side. The lace is definitely see through and I wore a slip. The silk underdress has beaded squared off tags that hang outside the lace, which is a detail I haven’t seen before. I do not remember where I got this, second hand.

When the silk is nearly 100 years old, it wants to fall apart. I took a second dress just in case there was dancing. If I danced in this dress, it would probably disintegrate.

In other news, here is an article about the Post Covid exercise intolerance. It is a small sample size, but they biopsied skin and muscle in people who were still exercise intolerant one year out from Covid 19. These people all had Covid-19 in 2020, so unimmunized.

https://actaneurocomms.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s40478-023-01662-2

“Compared to two independent historical control cohorts, patients with post-COVID exertion intolerance had fewer capillaries, thicker capillary basement membranes and increased numbers of CD169+ macrophages. SARS-CoV-2 RNA could not be detected in the muscle tissues. In addition, complement system related proteins were more abundant in the serum of patients with PCS, matching observations on the transcriptomic level in the muscle tissue. We hypothesize that the initial viral infection may have caused immune-mediated structural changes of the microvasculature, potentially explaining the exercise-dependent fatigue and muscle pain.”

This is a big deal. More needs to be done to confirm this, but a talk earlier this year said that the muscles don’t get adequate blood flow and get hypoxic and that the fatigue is recovery afterwards, taking 1-3 days. That is the best hypothesis for why people have the activity “crashes” after exercise or doing a little bit more than usual. My chronic fatigue shuts my fast twitch muscles down when I have pneumonia. This time it was two years before I got them back and I still have to be careful. It’s weird when they won’t work. It’s like the muscles go on strike. They didn’t really hurt (ok, they burned like strep throat all over the two times I had systemic strep A) but it’s more like the muscles are screaming NO NO NO NO! at the brain. It is hard to describe. If I tried to push, it felt like dying. Perhaps the muscle cells really DO start dying if we push them too hard. Mine is annoying but it doesn’t confine me to bed. My slow twitch muscles were fine though this time I needed oxygen. I hope not to experience it again.

This is the mask I wore. Nice to be in a different sort of mask, but I masked at a concert last night and will mask for travel with an N95.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: sartorial choices.

Slack tide

Slack tide is the time when the tide is not going out nor coming in. When it stops. It doesn’t mean the water is quiet because there is still wind and weather. But sometimes it is quiet, as if the ocean is holding its breath.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: slack.

Unexpected

I have had some unexpected things the last two weeks. A friend whose cancer has escalated and I’ve been taking her to appointments and to the store. Home health is now helping and I am very glad. Two others need some help as well.

But I am still going to some live music and enjoying it very much. I took photographs of the Wild Rose Chorale downtown and gave them copies. They are using them on Facebook and have a concert tonight. If nothing else comes up, I will go.

I am within 7 questions of finishing my three years of CME for the American Board of Family Medicine. I did most of the three years this year, because I was too sick from Covid the first year and had trouble caring the second. Now I am catching up and hope to finish today.

The job hunt is ongoing. Part time is unpopular with clinics. I understand that, but after four pneumonias resulting in not too horrible chronic fatigue, I can’t do full time. Something will turn up.

Life is complicated and beautiful, isn’t it? The photograph is the city tree downtown, ready for lighting a week ago.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: zest.

My parents had a different final verse:

The cherry tree bowed its branches down low to the ground
And Mary gathered cherries while Joseph stood around

I have read and heard other versions as well.

The women don’t see

A man I know is writing about retirement. He says that he has made excuses for years, that he has to travel for work, and not participated with family or entertaining activities.

That work is the only thing he is good at.

I don’t see the problem.

He has four people who have given him accolades for his write up. All men.

The women don’t see the problem.

In college I play soccer. I am not good, but adequate. None of us are really good. We have 12 people. Men and women. I ask a friend to join us.

“No.” he says.

“Why not?” I ask. “You’ve been saying you need exercise.”

“I am not good at it.”

“So what?”

“People expect men to be good at things. You don’t know what it’s like to have that expectation.”

I glare at him. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a woman and have people expect you to be bad at things.”

I knew a veteran. He complained to me about women. “I want a woman who is interested in cars and guns. That’s what I’m interested in.”

“Um,” I say. “Maybe you could develop some other interests? Join a club?”

“No.” he says. “Cars and guns. Why aren’t women interested?”

I am sure that some are. I am also sure that they are expected to know nothing about cars or guns and then are hazed and finally celebrated for being an amazing woman who is interested in cars and guns and has skills and knowledge. How amazing.

The women don’t see the problem with being good at work and not having developed anything else. We often are treated as if we are morons and have a man explain things to us. I have a skill that I have been developing and practicing for decades. Yet a man about 15 years younger than me who is in his first year of practicing, explains it all to me. I look at him and think, you are an idiot. Really. You KNOW I have years and years of experience. I offer to show him another way to do part of it and he soundly rejects and scolds me. “You’ll confuse me! I do it the way I was taught!” I clam up and just think, well, he’s over 30 and still stupid. Bummer. He talks about his amazing development and tells me what he has learned and advises me. Snort. I am ready to take a restroom break the next time he explains what I should be doing. The toilet is more fun than he is.

The women and the single fathers don’t see the problem. If you are raising the kids while working and keeping track of all the stuff: laundry, soccer practice, dentist appointments, helping your 8 year old pick a present for another kid, when is the party and where? Oh, the same day as the parent teacher conferences. Your child may want to do a sport that you know damn-all about or play an instrument that sounds like a rabbit is being strangled or join the young Rotary group. You are not a joiner and view this with an awed horror. But an involved parent will extend themselves into this new unknown alien arena and learn with the child.

And the people who do not have children but are trying to take care of an aging parent or disabled sibling or a long time friend. They too have to learn the systems and the medical one is a deteriorating nightmare labyrinth.

So to say one is good only at work and afraid of retirement: We don’t see it. What are you talking about? We are doing stuff we know nothing about initially as fast as the darn children grow. This month they want their own laptop and are installing linux and “Mom, we need faster wi-fi.” “I am making dinner.” “But mom, the game is timing out.” Huh. Ok, time to call the woman who we know who will explain wi-fi. “Figure out how much it costs, you’ll have to earn part of it if it’s more expensive.” “Mo-ommmm!”

Retirement: begin again. What have you wished to learn, to do, to explore? Be a beginner. Join us. We begin again daily.

One part

I don’t think it is easy to do two parts with straight hair. Now, if I had one of those rather awful perms I had in the 1970s, I could do two parts and tiny braids. At least, I could do the front. I would need help with the back.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Part Two.

I took this photograph when I was picking up mail for a neighbor. I said he’d better come home soon or I would be buried. And gosh, we can’t see any parts.