Reality comes home to Emma, Bigfoot's on the porch

Fair warning: I’m not going to be very funny this week. I’ll try, as appropriate, to give you a giggle or two, but there’re certain things you can’t and shouldn’t make a joke out of. I’m really sorry, but I can’t think of anything else to write – I’m having a hard time thinking of anything else, period. (Believe me, if I could, I would.)

A relative is sick. It might be COVID.

I’ll go ahead and answer some of your questions right now: Circumstances are such that I’m not worried about my own health. As of this writing, there’s no confirmed diagnosis (hence the “might be” in front of “COVID”) and no need for hospitalization, but several of the major symptoms are present. This person isn’t considered high-risk, but they have a mild preexisting condition that might increase the likelihood of complications.

I would not wish what I am feeling right now on my worst enemy, even if I had the worst enemy to wish it on. I’m a nervous wreck. I’ve read enough coronavirus horror stories to know that this bug can really mess you up, but when you’ve been more or less housebound for four months, the horrors of the outside world tend to take on an abstract quality. What’s happening now feels a little like opening your blinds in the morning and seeing Bigfoot on your front porch. However extensive your conceptual knowledge of Bigfoot may be, you still have to deal with the twin pangs of panic resulting from (a) the fact that Bigfoot is real and (b) the fact that Bigfoot is on your front porch. Does that make sense? No? Sorry. As previously mentioned, I’m a nervous wreck.

I’m really not sure what I’m supposed to do now. I’m trying to help as much as I can from home, which regrettably isn’t that much. I suppose that since it’s getting on towards November in a year divisible by four, I should start hunting around for a politician or two to blame, but it just feels wrong to play politics with this. So, seeing as I have a few column-inches left, I’ll just keep venting.

I’m a nervous wreck. I know I said it before, but it bears repeating. None of my usual distraction techniques – reading court dockets, taking long showers, crocheting in front of the television – is working. The whole family’s nervous, but I have always been among the most distinguished worrywarts of the bunch, and my true colors are showing at the moment.

In retrospect, this is something I probably should have been prepared for. A fast-spreading disease, a far-flung family…it was all but a statistical certainty that one of them would get sick sooner or later. But again, Bigfoot on the porch. Sometimes it just isn’t real until it happens.

I suppose I could use the remaining space to lecture the general public about social distancing and wearing face masks, but my heart’s not in it. For all we know, this could be the world’s worst-timed cold, and I’d be chewing you folks out for nothing. Just take care of each other, OK? Not everyone has meddling relatives like yours truly to nurse them back to health via e-mail.

Ugh. If any of you have loved ones with COVID, my heart goes out to you. I’ve got a tension headache and a queasy stomach and I’m not even the sick one. Stay safe out there, folks – if not for yourself, then for the people who worry about you.