The light was slow in coming this morning and there was no birdsong. I knew it was going to be cloudy, somber, and grey. The signs were there, and when it finally arrived, the light was dim and vague, lacking an obvious source. Grey skies in Oregon always seem to carry an atmosphere of contemplation with them and Oregon has low, grey skies often. Oregonians are very reflective folk. We sit without books, eyes unfocused, or gaze out our front windows. Kesey called it the “standing and starings.” Some of us look outward and some look within.

We’ve been “social distancing” for 40 days, only ventured out three times to the store and once, at two in the morning, to the E.R. We’ve had few conversations with others. Occasional phone calls, and a long conference call visit on the computer with our daughter nearly sum it up. Josh has been by to bring prescriptions he’s picked up for us and once to mow the lawn. That is it.

I’ve been mildly ill for weeks now, and between the worry of that and the menace of the virus lurking everywhere “out there”, we have grown quiet. We don’t talk much about the what ifs of me being sick, or the possibilities of our friends or family catching it, the growing shortages of flour and yeast, the protests of the anti-quarantine contingent.

Yesterday I had a virtual Dr. appointment. She told us that, although I have had two Covid-19 tests, which were negative, I have the signs of the virus having settled into my lungs…there is no test for this. The Corona pneumonia ends in 80% fatal results. She startled me by then initiating a discussion of my wishes regarding being put on a ventilator or being let go. (My mind went immediately to the day the doctor told my mother and I that she had less than six months of life left and I had an idea of how she must have felt.) She hurried on to say that while she felt the odds were low that I did in fact have the virus, it was important to have the discussion about my last days and the use of life support.

It is a given that we die. It is also a given that we don’t want to think about it.

Yesterday, I was brought up short. It was like I suddenly remembered an appointment I had or a promise that I had made.

We don’t know that I have the virus. We don’t know that I don’t. We have had our talk about last wishes and that has diminished our anxiety. We won’t be happy when the time comes, but at least we know what we should do.

It is raining today. I can hear the drops pounding on the oven vent. We’ve slept in a bit, read for a while and have only just finished breakfast. I’m going to shower and then build a fire after. The woodshed is nearly empty, but I can have another day or so of burning before the wood runs out. With luck warmer days will come before it’s gone.

 

Be well.

Blessings.

The Road