It's time to reopen

It looks like Tennessee, South Caroline and Georgia are taking the lead among the states to reopen certain businesses. I find it interesting that two of those states; Georgia and South Carolina rank 42 and 45 respectively in corona virus tests per million of population. Is short, neither state knows how much of the virus is out there because so few people have been tested. But hey!...let's get this economy rolling again!

How and why to ignore post-operative rehabilitation instructions

The experience of getting into your car after being discharged from a hospital following major surgery has to be one of life's greatest pleasures. Sure, I was in the passenger seat and Maribel was driving but it still felt good to be out of that place and in my own car. I wasn't driving because my patient's information packet said I couldn't drive for four weeks. Well, the fact is I could have driven myself home. I had no trouble getting from the wheel chair into the car. My legs and arms worked perfectly. I could turn my head in either direction. My chest and legs were a bit sore but no more than had I been weight lifting at a gym. Maribel drove for the next three weeks, but only because I enjoyed being able to look at things as a passenger rather than having my eyes glued to the road as a driver. But the point is I could have driven on day one. 

Two weeks after returning home the grass looked like a wheat field and really needed cutting. I was about to call the lawn service I had used when I had my knee replacement when two neighbors, without telling me in advance cut the grass. A week later when the grass needed cutting again I briefly thought about calling the lawn service, but I felt good enough to at least try a portion it myself, sort of as an experiment. We have a 21" self-propelled walk behind mower and 3/4 of an acre with hills. My body was telling me I could do it. Maribel was seriously threatening to call 911 if I even attempted to start the mower. It took me two hours rather than the usual 1 to cut the front portion and I stopped to rest several times, but I did it with no negative results. My legs cramped up a bit in bed that night and I woke up mildly sore the next morning, but not sore enough to stop me from cutting the back yard that day, which took me 3 hours with several breaks. So approximately four weeks after a triple bypass I had mowed my lawn. The following is from one of the patient instruction forms I was given.

FOR THE FIRST 3 TO 4 MONTHS

"During the healing process it is important that you don't do any heavy activity or any physical lifting, pushing,or pulling over 5 pounds for 4 to 6 weeks and not over 10 pounds for 6 months as this can interrupt the healing of the breast bone. We also do not want you to do any physical activities that could harm the healing process such as riding a motorcycle, weight lifting, lifting or pushing any heavy equipment as in gardening equipment, no pushing lawn mowers, no lifting children, suitcases, laptops, groceries or animals, do not try to open a stuck window, no vacuuming, or pulling wet clothing out of a washer. No smoking while you are healing as smoking can also delay the healing process. No driving while you are taking pain meds and until you have come in for your first post op appointment."

AFTER 3 TO 4 MONTHS

"After the end of the 3 to 4 months period you may return back to your normal activities. For your entire body to be back to feeling normal it can take up to 8 months to a year. It is normal to have some aches and pains at times during the healing process. Time will heal your body."

I think I violated every single prohibition in the first 3 weeks with the exception of lifting kids and taking wet clothing out of the washer. These instructions would pretty much make a couch potato out of anyone for at least 3 months. Think about the lawn mowing restriction. If I had used a lawn service for 3 months, the cost would have been $50 x 12 weeks, or $600, plus I would have lost the benefit of the exercise, which spurred me on to push myself further.

Another form said to walk frequently during the day in the house, suggesting distances of 20' to start and adding a few more feet every time. I was walking 3 laps around the perimeter of the house on the 2nd day home, and after the first week Maribel and I walked the 1.5 miles of the Fort Oglethorpe trail non-stop. Had I followed the instructions I would have missed the new blossoms on the trees and bushes and the singing of the birds.

Without going into further examples, suffice it to say that I was basically living my normal life within 4 weeks of the bypass. That gave me at least 2 months of quality living that I would not have had if I had followed the instructions. And think about this. I will soon be 80. Those same instruction forms are given to a guy who maybe needed a bypass at 40. How much faster than me could he recover if he pushed himself ?

The whole point of this post is that I believe that by pushing my body and listening to what it told me, I was able to speed up the rehab process and begin enjoying a normal life much faster than if I had followed the instructions. And at my age, or any age, those extra weeks matter.

He Just Won't Stop!!

There are groups of people in some states who are protesting their state's stay-at-home orders. On Friday afternoon in support of those protesters Donald Trump tweeted, "LIBERATE MINNESOTA" followed by a comment that said, "LIBERATE MICHIGAN." He then tweeted, "LIBERATE VIRGINIA and save your great 2nd amendment, It is under siege!" 

Whether your political leanings are liberal, conservative or situational: whether you agree with the stay-at-home orders of the states mentioned or not, put those issues aside and ask yourself this question...are Trump's comments, and his platform for making those comments those of a mature, intelligent and responsible individual, let alone the president of the United States? Aren't his words more appropriate to some college freshman in a crowd of protesters shouting slogans about something they don't even understand? 

As a leader, whether of a country or corporation, you don't undermine and alienate your subordinates, in this case the state governors. If you have a difference of opinion, you handle it through civil, private and professional conversation. Trump is publicly condoning and encouraging protests against the lawful actions of elected state officials, yet let someone question his words or actions, and his response is "fake news", or, "That's a nasty question and you're a terrible reporter." 

In his tweet he said the 2nd amendment is "...under siege!" I don't see where that issue had anything to do with the protests. The 2nd amendment guarantees the right to bear arms. The 1st amendment guarantees free speech, which includes giving Trump the right to make foolish, inflammatory comments on a social network forum if he chooses, but shouldn't the president of the United States, the leader of 352 billion people and the greatest country in the world be expected to conduct himself in a professional manner, one that inspires confidence in his people and the leaders of other nations? 

I saw a poll yesterday that said 43% of the people believe that Trump is doing a good job. Who are you people, and what is he doing that you approve of? Let me make that an open question to any Trump supporters who may be reading this post. Why do you approve of him? I promise not to get argumentative, ridicule or denigrate your reply in any way. I simply want to know why.

Okay, enough ranting. It is not my intention to have this blog become an anti-Trump forum so I will try to avoid further comments about him to the best of my ability, but please, please Donald, start acting like a mature, professional leader. Restore leadership, dignity and respect to the office of the presidency. 

A virus by any other name.......

The late 1940s and early 1950s in Milwaukee's south side were idyllic years for us kids. We were in our pre-teens with no responsibilities. There were hundreds of fun things to do, and always plenty of kids to do them with. Summer vacation seemed to last forever, though it was only from June to September. There were lots of things to look forward to...shooting marbles, riding bikes, catching crabs at Mitchell Park were some of our favorites. What we didn't look forward to was that first quarantine sign tacked to a door.

   
Polio was our boogie man. The first quarantine sign on the block brought lectures from our mothers about being careful. There would be others. One by one they would appear and with each one our world seemed to grow smaller. Mothers limited the things we could do and the distance we could travel from the house. If too many signs appeared in the neighborhood we were limited to our back yards. I don't remember any of our gang getting polio, but everyone knew someone who did. 

These days we often use the phrase 'game changer.' In 1955 Dr Jonas Salk and the Salk Vaccine was a game changer. I was fifteen at that time and if I remember correctly it took a couple of years to produce enough vaccine for everyone, and when it was available that should have been the end of polio. But it wasn't. It took about four or five years for the disease to disappear. Why? Because people didn't get themselves inoculated right away. Didn't think they had to; didn't think it was a problem. They learned differently shortly before before their kids became crippled or died. 

I saw a poll on television this morning regarding corona virus saying that most people are practicing social distancing, but only about 35% are wearing masks and/or gloves. Maribel and I wear masks and gloves, and in most settings feel like curiosities. Last week a young man in the neighborhood started coughing and sneezing as Maribel walked past. He thought that was funny. Two weeks ago while walking in a park (the park in the previous post) there was a young teenage couple approaching us. Shortly after passing us the young woman began coughing and sneezing. Maribel shouted out, "Payasa!!", which in Spanish means a female clown. I just shook my head. You know what I hope? I hope that young woman contracted coronavirus and recovered 100%, but had the crap scared out of her and is now telling all of her friends to take precautions.

Some of the casual attitude about taking precautions comes from our very nature..."It will happen to the other guy but never to me." And part of it comes from the mixed messages we received and are still receiving from our leaders. How does one know what to do when the governor of Michigan is locking the state down tight with the strictest regulations in the country, while the governor of Georgia says it is not necessary to close the beaches? Incidentally, the Georgia governor says he just learned last week that corona virus can be transmitted by people who show no symptoms. How can he just learn that last week? Sanjay Gupta and Anderson Cooper over at CNN had a field day with that one. Of course they have a field day with everything. 

CNN is not my go-to network. At the present I don't see them as a news network, but more of a personal vendetta network. Their whole purpose is to attack/embarrass Donald Trump. They try their damnedest to get Fauci or Brix or anyone else to contradict Trump. They deliberately bait Trump with gotcha questions or comments at the daily dog and pony show. Anything to create controversy. Give it up already!! Yes, Trump says stupid stuff. Yes, he waffles and  contradicts himself. Yes, he's a liar, a bully and a megalomaniac. Anyone capable of utilizing objectivity who has been following his actions these past four months knows that. It doesn't need to be proven over and over again every minute of every day! CNN, please find some non-Trump news to report on!

Apparently "I-have-absolute-power" Trump is getting close to declaring the corona virus over in some form or another, and apparently some governors are preparing to ignore or resist him. Whatever, we the people will still not have clear direction. For myself, no matter who says what, Maribel and me are going to do what makes sense to us, and in the meantime hope that there is another Dr. Jonas Salk quietly working on a break-through vaccine. 

A Tornado Visits Fort Oglethorpe

It was about 1:00 AM last Monday morning that we first heard the wind beginning to kick up. One-half hour later we knew it was serious. If we'd had a basement we would have gone there but lacking one we stayed in the east bedroom; the wind coming from the west. At 2:00 AM the wind driven rain eliminated all outside viability, except for the occasional shadows of our oak and pine tree waving violently. It was a helpless feeling, knowing that if either of those trees came down the house was probably gone. But fate decreed otherwise, and the morning light revealed scattered lawn furniture, some smaller sized tree limbs down, and our favorite lawn ornament broken. Fate was not as kind to the Fort Oglethorpe city park and walking trail, located 1.7 miles from our house.

The park is a fairly narrow but lengthy piece of land, essentially bordered on the north by Battlefield Parkway which is the city's main street, and Black Branch Creek on the south. The park contains a modern playground and a beautiful, peaceful paved walking trail. To walk the trail both ways is a trip of one and one-half miles, with plenty of benches among the trees and along side the creek to relax and enjoy nature.

Looking at the devastation caused by the tornado it almost seems as if the tornado deliberately followed the walking trail. Pictures can't convey the amount of destruction, nor could simply reciting the number of trees down or the houses on the other side of the creek that had been damaged or destroyed.

This house is probably going to take a little longer to sell than the owner anticipated.

Some businesses like the one below were not immune. We're not sure what this was but it occupied a large plot of land between the park and the main street.

The tornado apparently jumped from Fort Oglethorpe to the Chattanooga suburb of East Brainerd where it did extensive damage. A figure of 170 million is being reported. Even today many residents are still without power, and some roads are closed as city crews work on restoring power and cleaning up fallen trees. 

With all of the basic infrastructure issues to deal with, it will be awhile before cleanup will begin at 'our' park. Hopefully before too long we'll be able to once again sit on a bench and watch the herons hunting fish in the creek.

About Triple Bypasses and Other Fun Things To Do

The problem began, or at least physically manifested itself in May, 2018 when my blood pressure, which had always been in the 135/72 range suddenly shot up into the 180s. The spikes always happened in the early evening, and if unchecked would elevate into the 220s, which resulted in four trips in one month to an emergency room. Through trial and error my primary care physician found a combination of medications that kept me out of the 'stroke zone' (180 and higher) but did not lower my blood pressure to acceptable limits. Having hit the wall in his efforts to find a cause, he said it was time to refer me to a cardiologist. 

Not everyone functioning in a specific career field has the same skill level. Some football players are better than others. Some plumbers are better than others. And some cardiologists are better than others. The cardiologist I was referred to spent eleven minutes and thirty seven seconds with me. He made semi-appropriate listening gestures while I explained the problem, and then did a hand-wavy thing while saying that, "...98% of these things are age related." He prescribed a diuretic and referred me to a sleep center to check for sleep apnea. To me this experience was total mierda de toro. I didn't fill the prescription, never went to the sleep center, and told my primary care doctor to give me another referral, which he did without question. 

Before going on I want to comment a bit about my very brief experience with the sleep center the cardiologist had referred me to. Someone at that center contacted me by phone the following week. She said I needed to schedule three separate visits; one to pick up a device for me to use overnight at home, a second visit to do an overnight examination at the clinic, and a third to fit me for a CPAP machine. My question to her was, "Without knowing the results of the first or even the second test, how do you know I will need a CPAP machine?"  Her response was that maybe we should schedule the first two visits and see what happens from there, and if a CPAP was required I shouldn't worry about it because my insurance would pay for it. 

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is one of the reasons why health insurance premiums are so high. I am convinced that the primary purpose of this particular clinic is to sell CPAP machines. I told the woman that I didn't believe I have sleep apnea and would not be visiting her clinic. She said, "Okay, we'll tell your doctor that you're refusing his order." A blatant attempt at intimidation if I ever heard one. I said fine, thanks for saving me the effort. End of conversation.

The difference between the first and second cardiologist was like night and day. This man asked in depth questions, listened, actually took notes, and then concluded the interview by saying that he needed time to review and digest my situation, and that his nurse would be in contact with me soon to suggest an action plan. I was more than satisfied with his approach. Maribel and I walked out feeling that something good was going to come out of this.

Three days later the cardiologist's nurse called me to say that I had been scheduled for two out-patient exams at a Chattanooga hospital. First was an ultrasound. The second was a nuclear stress test. Without getting into detail, this is a test designed to determine the level of blood flow to the heart. I didn't know it at the time but this is the test that ultimately determined the course of my life up to the present. Four days later the nurse called and said the stress test showed some areas of possible concern; that I needed another exam and that she would call me with the what, when and where.

The what turned out to be an angioplasty at that same Chattanooga hospital on Friday, February 28, 2020 at 3:00 PM. Reading up on the angioplasty procedure made me a little nervous. I knew that the cardiologist would be looking for blockages, and possibly opening them with a balloon or stent placement if found. I have never had any of the usual symptoms of blockage so couldn't imagine what would be the outcome of this procedure. But at least it was out patient and I would be going home to meet later that evening with our friends at a favorite fish fry restaurant and chug a few beers. Things don't always go according to plan.

I was semi-awake during the procedure but not aware of what was happening. I knew there were a lot of people in the operating room and could see a screen that apparently showed my heart and veins but wasn't coherent enough to ask questions or comment. After what seemed like a brief time I came out of the fog in a recovery room, with my cardiologist standing over me. When the cardiologist decided that I was alert enough to understand he drew a diagram on a white board showing the major veins to my heart and indicating that he had found blockages of 90%, 80%, and 75% in three of them. He also had photos and showed them to us. His words to me and Maribel who had joined me were, "....your condition is very serious and if you leave this hospital without cardiac surgery you will probably not have the opportunity to return." All of my protests; that I did not have one single symptom indicating blockage, no chest pain, no shortness of breath, no tingling, no dizziness, no nothing were useless. The evidence was there and undeniable. 

It took only moments for Maribel and I to agree that we had no option. The cardiologist left the room and shortly after a nurse practitioner associated with a cardiac surgeon entered and told us he had scheduled me for a triple-bypass on Monday. Sort of in desperation I asked him if he had seen the angioplasty images and if he concurred with the cardiologist's opinion. He said he had seen the images and in his opinion, " ...you could die in your sleep tonight or on the street tomorrow. You are a walking dead man." I didn't expect an answer that blunt but appreciated it. It confirmed the decision to go ahead, which meant I had the whole weekend in a hospital to think about it.

A hospital room is not a good place to rest, relax or sleep. There is a constant parade of staff at all hours coming and going to take blood, measure vitals, dispense medications, clean the room, deliver and retrieve meal trays, and to wheel you down a refrigerated corridor into a refrigerated elevator and then into a refrigerated room for x-rays or any of several other exams that you weren't told about beforehand. I actually enjoy an ultrasound exam, because it's painless, non-invasive and is done with what I call the death machine. A technician lays you back on a cart, and rubs a small instrument over your belly or chest depending on what they're looking for, while looking at a screen. Periodically the machine will emit a loud noise that to me sounds exactly like a Darth Vader computer voice repeating three times...die!....die!....die! 

A piece of hospital equipment that I absolutely detest is what I call The Beast, also known as an IV pole. 

Hanging on the top of the pole is a bag of whatever liquid is being pumped into you. For me it was a blood thinner. A tube extends from the bag to some sort of calibration machine. Another tube exits the calibration machine and leads to the IV in your arm. For your entire hospital stay you are tethered to The Beast 24/7. You need to pee? Get out of bed, unplug the machine from the wall outlet, wheel it into the restroom with you, do your thing and then reverse the process, all without knocking it over or banging into something else, or getting the tube tangled with something and pulling the IV from your arm. In the wee small hours of the morning, after the technician has drawn your blood at 2:00 AM but before someone comes to take your vitals at 6:00 AM there is a brief opportunity to sleep, but The Beast knows this, and will choose this time to start beeping. What this supposedly means is that the IV bag needs to be replaced, but in actuality there is still liquid in the bag and anyone of the staff who happens to hear the beeping will see that, and simply push a button on the calibration machine to stop the beeping and tell it there is still liquid in the bag. 

But to do that someone has to respond, which was not the case for me. See, the nurse's station doesn't know that your Beast is beeping. You have to push the call button to tell someone. The speaker on my call button didn't work. So the sequence was that the Beast beeps, I push the button, a voice asks "Can I help you? I respond that my IV is beeping. There is a pause and then again...Can I help you? I again reply that my IV is beeping. There is a click and no one comes. So I lay there listening to the beep until a staff member arrives for some other purpose. This happened many times during the next two days. On on occasion I got angry. It was about 3:00 AM and I had been listening to the beep for about thirty minutes when I got up, unplugged the Beast and wheeled it down the corridor to the nurses station. I told the staff sitting there that, "If you won't come to me I'll come to you." When they asked why I didn't use the call button, I could not make them understand that the call button didn't work. 

The next morning when my cardiologist stopped in to see me I lost my cool. I told him that the customer focus in this place is terrible: that I have a faulty call button and no one seems to care. He responded that, "You're talking to the man who can fix this", and walked out. For the rest of the day there was a parade of hospital representatives in my room, apologizing and assuring me that better attention would be paid. One was a nurse supervisor who conducted an experiment with my call button and saw for herself that it didn't work. To her credit, she looked at me apologetically and said that even if the staff member responsible for responding to the patient call could not hear me, they still should have come into the room. She said she would put in a work order to have the call button replaced. Again to her credit, a maintenance man appeared an hour later and replaced the faulty call button. 

In hind sight I had over reacted, and was especially rude to the nurse on duty the night I rolled The Beast out to the nurse's station. The next day I apologized to the doctor and all of the staff members including the nurse I had verbally abused. I'm getting ahead of my self now, but on the day I checked out that nurse came to my room and said, "I want to apologize to you for that earlier incident. It was my fault because I didn't come into your room." That was classy.  

Anyway, Saturday and Sunday went by quickly. Maribel was there, and visitors included Jim and Marge, Dave and Vicky, my neighbor Ted and several others. Pete and Kim were on a cruise ship but I know they where with me in spirit. There were phone calls from out of state friends and family, and emails from friends and family in Peru. Maribel was feeling unsettled and not looking forward to staying in our house alone. Jim and Marge took her in for the next three days, and I will always be grateful to them for that.

Monday was pretty much of a blur for me. I remember a nurse shaving me, and being given pre-op medications. A crew wheeled me down to a pre-op room at about 1:00 PM. Most of them were middle aged guys, and somehow we got to talking about old days, and listening to Joe Louis fights on the radio. It didn't occur to me until later that these guys weren't old enough to be listening to Joe Louis fights. At one point I said I had better shut my mouth and let them get on with their work but someone protested that they were enjoying the conversation. A few minutes later an anesthesiologist told me that he was going to introduce some of his "home-made juice" into my IV. The last thing I remember was me saying that the old radio was probably made by GE or Philco. 

In the distance I heard a male voice saying it was time to wake up. I assumed he was speaking to me so I responded, "Why are you waking me up? I have an operation scheduled." The voice said "You're done." I responded, "I can't be done..I'm being prepped for surgery." The voice said, "You're in recovery...it's over." Talk about complete disorientation. It seemed to me that my comment about a Philco radio was less than a minute ago. It was actually six hours. 

Maribel and Marge had been sitting in the family waiting room the whole time, and were relieved when the surgeon told them that everything was fine, and commented that when he opened up my chest he was surprised at the condition of my heart. He said my heart is that of a forty-nine year old rather than seventy-nine. He told Maribel that she could see me but cautioned her that it was late, I was sedated, had "miles of tubes in me" and probably would not know she was there. She and Marge opted to go to dinner and then to Marge's house to pack it in for the night. I have no memories of that evening; how or when I was taken to my room or anything else. Nor do I remember anything from the following morning.  

In the afternoon Maribel was there. There were a zillion tubes attached to me in every possible location, and next to me was a heart-shaped red pillow that the nurse who had given it to me called 'brave heart.' She instructed me to hold it very tightly to my chest and place my chin in it when the pain came. When I moved, my chest and the leg where the by-pass veins had been taken from were sore but so far I had no real pain. I wasn't able to eat mostly because the food tasted terrible and I had no appetite, but did drink some juice. Shortly after the juice I started burping, and now I knew what the pillow was for. With each burp it felt like every single Marvel Comics superhero and villain were simultaneously firing all their weapons at my chest. Maribel hurriedly left the room to look for a nurse, but a nurse standing outside heard my groans and told Maribel that what was happening was normal. For that day and the next every burp, sneeze or cough produced level eight pain. The surgery took place on Monday, and by Wednesday evening the pain had subsided enough to allow me to get out of bed and move about the room. On Thursday there was no pain at all, and I was able to take long walks in the hospital corridors, though still attached to The Beast. Thursday morning I was telling anyone who would listen that I was ready to go home but the answer was always the same, "Not until you've had a bowel movement." I tried...believe me I tried. I don't know how many times I disconnected The Beast from the wall and dragged it into the restroom but no luck. Thursday afternoon the doctor ordered two medications that were supposed to induce a bm quickly. Nada. Friday morning a nurse inserted a suppository, and guaranteed results within the hour. She was right.

It was at 3:00 PM on Saturday, March 7, 2020 that a nurse wheeled me to the front entrance where Maribel was waiting with the car. My only thought upon leaving that hospital and getting into the car was...it's over.

Upon arriving home I sat on the couch for awhile, and then with Maribel's help took my first complete shower in a week. The shower was more difficult than I expected, as was changing into fresh clothing. It was difficult to breathe; more so than it had been at the hospital the last two days. I assumed it was because of all the movement I was doing. Saturday evening was spent sleeping on the couch. 

When I awoke Sunday morning I knew something was wrong. My breathing was shallow and rapid, and my blood pressure was 84/54. I called my insurance company's nurse hotline, explained my situation and was told to hang up and dial 911. Maribel drove me to a nearby emergency room where I was examined and told that the best course of action was for me to transfer back in an ambulance to the hospital I had left yesterday, as this hospital was not equipped to treat my condition. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but given my condition it made sense, so two hours later I was back in the hospital I had left yesterday, just three doors down from my previous room.

For the next two days my breathing problem continued, and a battery of tests did not find the cause. Two specialists examined my lungs and found no lesions, or water in them. They concluded that my lungs were 100% and not part of the problem. Another ultrasound was done, with no problem found. My cardiologist told me to prepare for an angioplasty that afternoon. As with the first one, I was awake but this time more alert and was following what was happening and being said. I knew that some blockage had been found and that a stent was being inserted. Immediately upon completion of the procedure I could feel that my breathing had improved. I asked one of the attendants how that could happen so quickly, and he responded, "Welcome to the world of normal breathing!" I joked that I wanted to get back to my room so that I could test drive my new body. I deliberately took deep gasps of air through my nose and savored each one.

On Thursday, March 12, 2020 I was again being wheeled to the main entrance where Maribel was again waiting with the car. That was one month ago as of the day of this writing. Since then I have mowed our lawn twice; washed our car, taken walks of 1.5 miles without stopping, and have cut up and burned fallen tree limbs in our yard. I haven't resumed weight lifting yet but when my body tells me its ready I will. It's been one hell of a ride but there has been some upsides. My blood pressure is lower than it's ever been, and no more spikes. All of the doctors who examined me said that my major organs are in great shape, that I am overall in good condition and that there is no reason why I can't live another twenty years. I'm shooting for twenty one. Then I could write a 100 year birthday post.

My Take on the Corona Virus

I can no longer force myself to watch the daily Donald Trump dog and pony show. I get angry. Every day I wish that somehow Trump and his faithful puppy Mike Pence would suddenly disappear, leaving the stage to the people who could intelligently speak of concrete substance and facts without fear of embarrassing their boss or being fired. I am convinced that Trump has given Pence a mandate to say at least five times at each daily briefing, "...under the leadership of the president..."

Trump is dangerous. He's like a ship without a rudder, just blowing with the wind. He constantly contradicts himself; voices opinions based on nothing, and displays childish attitudes towards governors and world leaders who disagree with him. It is unfathomable to me that anyone would look to him for leadership, or pay any attention at all to anything he says or does. He should be treated like the child he is...given a spanking and be sent to stand in a corner.

It is so obvious that from the very beginning of the corona virus onset that he has downplayed the danger, and has been dragged along into taking positive action by people who are knowledgeable and publicly credible. And then he takes credit for those actions. Or denies he ever said or did anything to the contrary. 

What is most irritating is the constant bickering between Trump and the governors. Trump generally parrots that there are sufficient supplies while the governors claim differently. Trump speaks of the tremendous efforts of private and government agencies working around the clock to produce millions of needed supplies that are being delivered or will be delivered soon, while the governors ask, "Where are these supplies?" Why can't Trump or someone in the administration specifically state that X numbers of M-95 masks were produced by the A, B and C companies and were shipped via carrier D to the cities of E, F and G on Tuesday the Xth? That would give the governors, the press and us citizens the actual facts, rather than the vague references to our "massive production capabilities" that somehow can't supply the basic needs of a small New York hospital. When New York governor Cuomo says he needs X amount of supplies, he usually supports his request with solid reasoning. Trump on the other hand has no problem saying,"...he doesn't need that many", without providing any basis for his opinion. It's as if he doesn't need to justify his judgments because he's Donald Trump, the possessor of a mystical omnipotence far above the comprehension of us lessor beings. 

The federal government and some state governors including my own state of Georgia governor who continues to screw up daily have been late to the party. Okay, that situation is behind us, but by now there should be a unified approach to combat the virus. There isn't. Not among state and federal agencies, certainly not from Trump, and not among us citizens. Let me explain that last comment about we the public.

The city of Fort Oglethorpe Georgia is a small but growing city. It has many newly constructed residential areas and a commercial downtown with many of the familiar big name department and grocery stores. Despite federal and local authorities pleading with the people to stay home unless absolutely necessary, two of those businesses; Home Depot and Lowes are constantly packed with people who are buying home and garden items, apparently to use the stay-at-home time to do projects. In a recent discussion with a friend I mentioned that Maribel and I don't enter any public establishment unless absolutely necessary, and then only when wearing a mask and gloves. He looked at me and voiced an incredulous, "Really???" As if what we're doing was absurd. 

What I wanted to respond to him but didn't was, "Do you realize that Atlanta, with the country's busiest airport is a two-hour drive from here? The same for Nashville? And that downtown Chattanooga is twenty minutes away? Do you think that of the hundreds of people you're crossing paths with in Home Depot or Lowes, that none of them have been to the cities I mentioned, or at least have had contact with people who have been? And that of all of those people, none of them are carrying the corona virus?" 

I would liked to have told him but didn't, that Maribel and I are basing our practice of staying home and wearing masks and gloves when outside on the medical advice and guidelines that are being offered every minute of every day by medical experts on television and radio. I would liked to have asked him but didn't, what concrete evidence he is basing his nonchalant attitude on, other than his feeling that, "...it's not going to be so bad."

It's entirely possible that the virus will run it's course with a minimum of deaths. It's also possible that hundreds of thousands of people could be killed. The debate will continue even when the virus is over. If there are a minimum of deaths, those who chose to ignore precautions will say they were right, that the virus simply ran its own course, while those of us who took protective measures will say that the minimum deaths were a result of taking those precautions. Neither side will be able to prove their view. But one thing is certain. There will be committees and sub-committees and investigative bodies all spending enormous amounts of time and money building their cases to point fingers and place blame. 

It is my sincere hope that the failed leadership of Donald Trump will be fully exposed. But probably not. He will likely be reelected in November. And I will shake my head in wonder.