Covid-19: aftermath

I am thinking about the roaring twenties a lot. I think people went a little nuts, not because of the war, but because they had difficulty being emotionally honest about the influenza pandemic. I think we humans will do it again to forget the deaths, to go into denial, to refuse to grieve.

Yes, that is my prediction.

Be very quiet, I am hunting wabbits.

Be careful in our future roaring twenties. Money will flow like honey and people will go nuts. Hold fast, hunker down, don’t go out without your macintosh, wear clean underwear. Remember what your mother told you, remember what your father tells you. Because that was followed by the Depression and that is one risk.

I don’t know if it will start this spring or next spring. Ok, I AM hoping that my son and future daughter-in-law can get married in early May, since they’ve put it off for two years. But. The 1918-19 influenza was really three years, not two. It tailed off. Half the people in the world got it. In Samoa, half the adults died, or was it 70%? They had little exposure to infection but a ship brought it. They KNEW they were high risk, but a sailor didn’t know he was sick yet.

Why a roaring twenties? Because we want to forget this pandemic, as the last one was forgotten. Our history books say that the Roaring Twenties was about the end of World War I. We teach lots about that. We barely mention the influenza world pandemic. I am reading a book about the 1918-19 influenza pandemic published in 2018. The author says that it is only now, 100 years later, that we are starting to really tell the stories of that pandemic. She gathers stories from all over the world, including stores of different infection control strategies in two cities. One guessed right and one guessed wrong, and in the wrong one, way more people died.

I read about that 1918-19 pandemic after influenza nearly killed me in 2003. I was 42, healthy, a physician, a mother, an athlete. I had NO risk factors except stress. Now it looks like it was a PANS reaction, but at the time, neither my doctor nor I could figure out why I was short of breath and tachycardic walking across a room for two months. Fatigue, chest pain, tachycardia, shortness of breath. Hmmm, what does that sound like? My partners thought I was faking and I was so sick that I could barely communicate. The stresses were my mother dying of ovarian cancer in May 2000 and my marriage being pretty on the rocks and me working way too hard. My psychiatrist said I should take time off. I said, I can’t. He said, you’d better. Then I got flu. “See?” he said. The body decides, not the conscious brain. He was correct, damn him.

The book I read in 2004 looked dry and medical from the outside. It had pages and pages of footnotes. It had photographs of Los Angeles. They knew the influenza was coming towards them like a wave and they tried to get ready. Bodies under sheets were stacked five deep in the hallways of the hospitals. It hit that fast. People, usually age 20-50, turned blue and fell over dead. WHY? It was the immune response. The 20-50 year olds had a better immune response than the 50 and older and their lungs would swell until there was no airspace left. Even then, that pandemic death rate was only 1-2 % in the US. But it was so fast and spread so quickly that everything was disrupted because it was the workers that were deathly ill and at home and there was no one to work.

People wore masks in public, except for the mask refusers, but not in their homes. So entire families would get ill. I don’t think they had figured out viral loads yet. If you are the last one standing, and you are trying to take care of a spouse and six children, you were high risk from viral load and exhaustion.

The Roaring Twenties WAS a way to grieve, it’s just a dysfunctional one. The stages of grief: denial, bargaining, anger, grief and acceptance. My sister said that acting out and revenge ought to be added as stages of grief. She died of breast cancer after fighting it for 8 years. Roaring is denial and bargaining and acting out and revenge, all at once. Everyone grieves differently, remember that. There is not an order to the stages of grief and you don’t do them once. You do them over and over and over.

I am a Cheerful Charlie, right?

War is one way to forget/deny/act out. Let’s not do that. Let’s not have a civil war of forgetfulness and denial.

Let us remember clearly and lean on each other.

Playing for change: lean on me

I think this fits the Ragtag Daily Prompt: inflammable.

My sister’s blog: https://e2grundoon.blogspot.com/2009/01/chemo-not-in-vain.html . She died on March 29, 2012. The start of the blog is here: https://e2grundoon.blogspot.com/2002/02/ .

Blessings.

______________

I got Cheerful Charlie from Pogo comics: read the Albert Alligator section. https://comicstrips.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_Pogo_characters
More recently, Downton Abby used Cheerful Charlie. https://downtonabbey.fandom.com/wiki/The_Cheerful_Charlies

ring

I dream a night sky thick with stars

all the stars start falling

I think “That isn’t good.”
sore afraid

all the stars are angels falling

I think “That isn’t good.”
sore afraid

an angel falls close past me
in space
face at perfect peace

I think “Why do they fall?”
sore afraid

I am falling in space
head down
no earth beneath me
with the angels

crying, imperfect acceptance
sore afraid

I wake
I put the dream away

it comes back
in a decade

I write about wings
sore afraid

I try to understand
sore afraid

I am asked what my small self
my child self
wants

wings

I say yes
no longer
sore afraid

did you hear the bell?

yes

cereal mean stupidity

Some people act mean. Not only do they act mean but they are cereally mean. They are mean about cheerios, about count chocula, about granola, about oatmeal.

Not only do they act mean, and cereally mean, but stupidly mean.

They are stupidly mean because they heard that you like cheerios. It doesn’t matter if you actually do or don’t like cheerios. Someone told them that you like cheerios, they think cereal is sinful and you are LABELLED. They have you labelled as liking cheerios and you are a sinner.

And it doesn’t matter what you say or do. You can say “I don’t like cheerios.” Yeah, they don’t believe you. They think that maybe YOU EAT CHEERIOS when no one is looking, behind curtains, in the basement. They did a search on the internet and you bought Cheerios in 1997. You are a sinner.

You can show photos of your breakfast. “Look! Yohgurt and raspberries!” Doesn’t matter. They whisper, she eats cheerios in secret. You are still a sinner and you are a sinner and a liar.

You can be an upright citizen for years, join the Rotary, volunteer, donate money. Doesn’t matter. The whispers circle back to you: cereal.

So finally you figure it out: fungk them. You do not have time in your life for cereal mean stupidity. You put those people on ignore and leave them there. You cheerfully help if they have a flat tire or appendicitis. You commiserate when they complain that they are miserable. Well, actually, fungk that. Your goal if they call is: get off the phone. “I got a pan burning on the stove, I gotta go to the bathroom, I gotta trim my nosehairs…” Anything but talk to one of them. Because your life is a lot of fun, once you stop trying to change their minds.

And it doesn’t have to be cereal. It can be bipolar disorder or race or politics or the country you are from. Cereal mean stupidity is rather rampant. We have the choice to ignore it and live with more joy than ever.

Peace out.

Aces again

I am singing: “You are coming up ACES!”

Ok, but, hopefully not. Because I am talking about ACE scores, Adverse Childhood Experiences. See the CDC website, this is all based on a ginormous Kaiser study in the 1990s.

Here: About the CDC-Kaiser ACE Study |Violence Prevention|Injury Center|CDC

Yep. A very very interesting topic for a rural family practice physician.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: ACE.

many flags

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: language.

I spent three days with the Rotary President Elect Training this past weekend. I am part of District 5020, which stretches from the end of Vancouver Island, BC, Canada down the Olympic Peninsula, WA, United States. There were people from ten districts.

The Rotary’s Polio Plus program is working hard to eradicate polio. This year the match from the Gates Foundation will be 2 dollars for every dollar the Rotary brings to end polio.

The flags from all the different countries and people working together: that speaks the language of peace and hope to me.

new again

I get to start again

I have always seen the monsters under the bed
I have to
to survive

you don’t tell people about their monsters

I learn that early

they get angry hit punish send away
and anyhow they leave you even if they love you

when I am alone
we play
the monsters and I

they are so happy to be seen

they cry often
why doesn’t he love me?
why won’t she hold me?
why does he throw me out?
why?

I hold them
dry their tears
cuddle them
wrap them warmly

they cheer up
and play

they never forget
they alert
their person is near
they rush back

sometimes one rejected
returns with seven friends
hoping to storm the person

that doesn’t work

the monsters never lose hope
never

sometimes I see
a person see their monster
let it be conscious
the person is grown enough
to love

I am so used to the monsters
I work with them in clinic
visit after visit
the monsters weeping on my lap
while the person refuses refuses refuses
and sometimes a crack opens
like a portal light blinding
and the monster
is loved

that’s why I am here
what makes it worth staying
Beloved

now I think
I am new again
it’s hard to date
when the monsters are yanking at my skirt
crying howling distracting
and I am hopeful
but it is not my role
it’s not ok
it’s antisocial
to ask about the monsters

I am new again
I won’t date anyone with monsters
that I can see

they must love them first


Chime in!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: chime!

Chime in! Raise your voice! Vote! If you are not a US citizen, ask a friend who is a US citizen: have you voted? Do you need a ride? Do you need encouragement? Please chime in! Vote!

Raise your voice!

One person, one vote.

Let there be peace.