CW health issues, pandemic
It’s not yet 9 pm where I am and I’m in bed, exhausted either due to side effects of Bactrim or the stress of the past week. I have not been out of the apt except to walk Kizu since last Saturday midday, when I went to urgent care due to a nasty-looking lump on my left shoulder. It was obviously infected; that’s what the Bactrim is for. Interestingly enough, I wasn’t prescribed that by urgent care but by my PCP three days later via secure teleconference, when the redness had turned dark.
Good news – two days of Bactrim and it’s not even warm anymore. 👍🏼
I’m doing much better than a lot of folks. I was in NYC on Thursday the 12th but work closed all physical locations on Friday and warned us to take our personal stuff home, just in case. I’m working remotely and, due to the nature of my job, I am *swamped.* Everyone is trying hard and we’re helping each other generously, though. It’s nice.
Even if AOC mentioned us in an IG story and slashdotted the back end of our app. Oops.
The thing that bothers me most right now – that is if you subtract the horror show that is my government – is that I can’t help in any significant way. Particularly having been in NYC, working at a public institution. I can’t visit people, I can’t sew masks, I can’t deliver stuff for older folks. Not yet, anyway. It’s my upstairs neighbor’s 80th birthday tomorrow and I can’t make her anything. It’s a much different world than visiting neighbors with gifts of cornbread during 9/11.
I know isolating myself for another week or two is critical, and it’s the best thing I can do. And I don’t mind isolating with Jon – it’s kinda nice, actually. But it still doesn’t feel like helping, no matter how much I try to logic myself into believing it.
I’ll be fine. I’m just hoping talking about this a bit will ease the weird “you could do something” guilt.