A breakthrough case of COVID-19 cheated me out of August and September, and I have been pretty cranky.
But last week, I took the oxygen line from my nose, had a little pep talk with my lungs and am now un-tethered. October awaits.
All my late summer plans have telescoped into this month. I will get Rhoda the Motor Home out and go camping at Maryhill, Washington. It will be a neat trick, because this disease has, as grandma said, made me feel like something the cat dragged in. However, Rhoda has a comfy couch, and when I get tired, I can take a nap.
Ironically I will travel east where the unmasked masses live — I shall never understand their point of view — so I will maintain my isolation. (Perhaps I should hang a PLAGUE sign on the door of the motor home?)
But there are long walks to take, new views to see out the windows, a river to watch, birds in migration and two pints of Haagen-Dazs to work my way through.
October, I think, gets a bad billing. For one thing, the run-up to Halloween has some of the best fall leaves. Leaves are just starting to turn, so I have not missed fall color. I will take a swing into wheat country to enjoy the way farmers sculpt their rolling hills.
By October, vacationers have mostly gone home and it is quiet in touristy spots, though I will likely wait until winter to return to Multnomah Falls. Remember the days when you could stand there alone and enjoy it?
But we can return again to the banks of the Sandy River. There are many roads less traveled in October. And plenty of fruit stands selling apples. And plenty of apple cider.
I want to smell fall air and fallen leaves and goose poop and think how lucky I am to reach another season still breathing on my own.
I read in the paper that the odds at my age of surviving COVID breakthrough case were damned slim.
So I am grateful for the folks at the hospital who pulled me through. I worry that they are so weary. And I share their frustration that most of their patients refused to protect themselves.
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