The Covid Epilogue
While we
were having our adventures in the Mojave, Fabiolita stayed behind, at the
frontline like a good veterinarian, making sure pets remain healthy and are
able to provide the companionship that has been a lifeline in the times of
Covid. She has been the source of worry for both DJ and myself, for everyday
she gets exposed to new people who, although deeply in love with their pets,
are not always Covid-conscious. Of course she follows safety protocols and
always always wears a mask.
When I
arrived home from my adventures, on Saturday evening, I was delighted to get a
message from Faby and DJ inviting me to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner the
following afternoon, Sunday November 29. It was picture perfect, with a
deep-fried turkey cooked to perfection by DJ, and the usual assortment of
trimmings of oven-baked macaroni-and-cheese, cranberry sauce, stuffing with
chopped turkey gizzards, gravy, a home-made pumpkin pie, and a steady flow of
bubbly. It felt so good to be home with the family, and to thank the Good Lord
for all the blessings we had received this crazy year (e.g., the France trip
just before Covid exploded, Ronnie 6th year anniversary and the
flight Opa gave him for a present, and a fabulous Mojave trip).
That
night Faby felt ill and took to her bed with a mild fever, and by the following
morning she had to call in sick because she could barely get out of bed and her
body was aching all over. The clinic went into panic mode (right now they only
have two vets instead of their normal compliment of three) and sent her to get
tested right away. That night the fever broke (just in time for Ronnie to
develop a fever), and by the following morning (Tuesday December 1) Faby
started on her way to recovery (she finally was cleared by her doctor to go back
to work on December 9). Ronnie’s fever broke overnight, and the little bird was
as chipper as ever the following morning. DJ is doomed!
As soon
as I heard Faby was not well I put myself under voluntary quarantine (starting
Monday November 30) and started monitoring my temperature and oxygen levels.
The following Saturday (December 5) went to get tested. Three days later I
found I was positive, and sighed with relief thinking “Well, thank God that is
over with.” I felt just fine, had not had a fever, and had healthy oxygen
levels. But it is hard not to be a hypochondriac in the age of Covid, so
everytime I took Phoebe out for a walk I had to stop and ask myself if I was
short of breath. Every little cough seemed the harbinger of respiratory
illness.
It
finally hit me. On Saturday December 12, at around noon, I felt tired and
decided to take a nap on the couch. At least in a figurative way I was down for
the count. No fever, mind you, but I was completely drained out of energy and
my lower back was killing me. Over the next two and a half days I still dragged
myself out of the couch twice a day to take Phoebe for a walk, but I had no
interest in cooking or eating, and outside of morning showers and a bit
puttering around the house I was aimless in my thoughts and actions. Dear Lord,
is this what retirement feels like?
And then,
all of a sudden at noon of Tuesday December 15, I came back to life. I woke out
of my 3-day nap with a start, feeling the need to stretch my legs with a long
Phoebe walk and also feeling quite ravenous. I had some turkey soup in the
fridge, and I gobbled it with gusto accompanied by long drafts of cool
refreshing water. I was glad to be back in the world of the living, apparently
without any serious after-Covid effects.
But I was
hasty when I declared no after effects. A good one was that when I weighed
myself I was pleasantly surprised that I was 220 lbs, pretty much the same
weight I was throughout my 40’s and 50’s. A bit brutal, but the Covid diet
surely melts the pounds away. On the negative side I was in a pessimistic funk
for a couple of days, shaking my head at the folly of youth in general and my
students in particular. I am glad to say that gloomy spirit soon went away, and my regular
positive personality was soon back on its feet. Finally, I was absolutely
terrified when I sat down to enjoy a plate of enchiladas and found out that
everything tasted like mashed potatoes without salt! And the nice Moscato I was
having with dinner tasted like little more than sweetened water. Oh no, I am
doomed!
For a
foodie like me, this was the cruelest blow I received in a particularly rough
year. Barely a week short of Christmas Eve, the most delicious day of the year,
and with a menu I have been agonizing over for a month or so, I am going to have
to smile my way through an endless succession of dishes of mashed potatoes
without salt! What is there for Christmas Eve dinner? A traditional central
Mexico menu of Bacalao a la Vizcaina (dried and salted codfish cooked Bay of
Biscay style, with onions, garlic, tomatoes, olives, and capers) with
home-baked crusty bread (Fabiola’s department), followed by Revoltijo (a tasty
mole dish with spinach and dried shrimp). DJ and Ronnie are in charge of
appetizers and a pie.
May your
own Christmas celebration be blessed just like ours will be. 😊
And may your Christmas feast be tasty! If it tastes like mashed potatoes you now know you are not alone ☹
I know this, too,
shall pass.
Merry
Christmas!
Horacio
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