COVID-19 Diary - Taking Names and Buying Snacks

Day two of keeping track in a small way of what's happening as the United States' number of confirmed cases of COVID-19 begin a steep climb.

Here in our little corner of southeastern Indiana, we remain fairly isolated from the virus, but it feels like it's closing in.

Ohio County where Rising Sun is the county seat and sits along the Ohio River is the little red blob.

You can see how the counties with confirmed cases of the virus are beginning to surround us.

It's enough to make me want to lock everyone up in their houses to hunker down and hope that this scourge passes us by. A Rising Sun Passover, if you will.

Alas, and as I'm frequently reminded, I am not the boss of anything. Don't believe me? Check out any Adventures in Real Parenting post on this blog. You'll see.

My husband isn't even under my jurisdiction at this time. He's off to the University of Cincinnati Hospital every weekday for his job. He's not a healthcare worker, but he's there working and watching the triage tents go up and get busy.

This morning, I broke my own rule to venture out for provisions. I took my ration book aka my Discover Card (cash back!) and made a run to a local IGA for donuts and then braced myself for a trek through the belly of the beast - Krogers on Eads Parkway.

Sidenote - I would love to shop at our local IGA for all our groceries, but would need an increase on my credit card limit to keep us well-stocked in Mello Yello. That, however, is a post for another day.

Kroger can't keep up. The shelves and refrigerated cases still looked like the day before a blizzard is predicted to hit. I asked one woman stocking shelves how she was doing and she said she was glad she liked her job and noted she didn't mind the job security. I credited her for having a great outlook and wished her well. This exchange took place as we stood several feet apart.

I found myself holding my breath as I walked past other shoppers. I had a ziplock of Clorox wipes I used to wipe down the shopping cart and ran it over my hands every time I touched something. I had to remind myself to stop picking up packages of strawberries to look for the best one. Oh, and not touching my face? An ongoing struggle.

I ran into people from Rising Sun. No hugs, no pats on the arm. We practiced our careful physical distancing as we chatted. Everyone reported the same thing - all is well so far and yes, we're all worried about our parents who are trying to adjust to this new "normal."

I stopped at my parents on my way home to share some donuts with them. Guess who had already been out that morning to buy a newspaper? No, I didn't shout at him and I even let him have the one jelly donut I'd gotten. We had a rousing discussion about washing our hands, I bagged up some Clorox wipes in a ziplock for him to keep in his car (I know when I've been defeated) and then he mentioned they'd have to go to Walmart for some groceries soon.

What a joker.

They'll be handing over that detailed grocery list to me and I'll go. At least we settled that. Wish me luck that I don't choose the wrong brand of orange juice.

Last night before we fell asleep, my husband and I talked about how things have changed so swiftly. It's like the world is upended. I wondered aloud if it made sense for people to start keeping a list of where they've been and when and who they've had close-ish contact with.

David wasn't sure. Or maybe he was already asleep. His response sounded something like mmmmmm or hmmmmmm? I have never known anyone in my life who can fall asleep as quickly as that man does. But that's a post for another day, too.

Be well. Stay home. Wash your hands.

COVID-19 Diary - We're Not Having Any Fun

I yelled at my father today.

We live in a very small town and I have eyes (spies?) around town. My pals know I'm concerned about my father (83) and mother (81) because both of them have chronic conditions - heart disease, hypertension, and diabetes. Both are overweight. Full disclosure - so am I.

One of my pals mentioned she'd seen Dad out and about. I knew from conversations with my mother that it would be difficult for him to shelter in place during this time of COVID-19. I mean, he's a social guy. Rarely does a day go by that he doesn't go out tootling around town in his car, buying his lottery tickets, picking something up at the store, and driving by my house just for kicks.

But this is getting serious and I've asked him to stop going out just for kicks. I get it. It's tough. It's boring. It's isolating.

But Mom's health isn't great. She's had multiple heart attacks. Both of them caught every cold that passed this way over the winter. My kids and I still laugh at a mess of a Facebook Messenger video that included a wide shot up my mother's nose and both parents announcing that they were sick.

"We're sick here. We're not having any fun."

You don't say.

Today is their 60th wedding anniversary. I'm lucky to still have them. I'd like to keep them around to celebrate their 61st wedding anniversary.

"If you're out around people, you're bringing home germs and passing them on to Mom," I grumped at him.

"I'm going to do what I want."

"If she catches this thing, it's going to kill her. In Italy, doctors are having to choose who lives and who dies. They don't have enough medical equipment to care for everyone."

That got his attention.

Earlier, I'd watched a video of military trucks transporting bodies out of Northern Italy to somewhere else for burial and cremation. They are out of room for all the dead.

"If the hospital has 10 ventilators and 40 sick people who need them, what chance do you think and 81-year-old woman has?" It was a low blow. I'm desperate.

I rooted around in the closet for my extra hand sanitizer forgetting that I'd given it to my son and daughter-in-law a couple of weeks earlier.

"Wash your hands as soon as you get home," I bossed. "And stay home. I can get you whatever you need."

He left under a barrage of my nagging and a wish for a happy anniversary.

"I nag because I love!" I shouted at his retreating back.

I think he knows. He might not like it, but he knows.