Covid Redux

Oh dear God, as if a year and a half of social distancing, mask wearing, and Zooming wasn't enough, now the Delta variant is taking hold all over the world including the US. Its version is more contagious and appears to affect younger people including children. Huge numbers of us are not yet vaccinated. We can thank Mr. Trump for turning Covid safety procedures into a political football. In addition to his irresponsible example in this regard, many people are also suspicious of science (think global warming). Others are opposed to all vaccinations including Covid. The really scary truth is that even among those who are vaccinated, breakthrough infections can occur. Oh, and another thing to worry about: research is behind and just beginning to recognize long term effects of both the disease and the vaccinations. Does this mean we are back to Zooming, masking and distancing? Is it safe to get a booster? What about school? What about the crisis of uneven health care in different parts of the world? It is small wonder that many of us are feeling depressed, edgy, nervous. If Covid has taught us one thing it is this: we are human creatures and we need human, in-person, contact for our physical, mental and emotional health. Cross your fingers!

Cousin David

And on the same theme of loss . . . another death occurred yesterday. My beloved Cousin David passed away in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, with his wife, brother and son at his side. Thank goodness they made it there in time, in part thanks to me and the "mas o menos" Spanish I've been studying since I retired 16 years ago. Last week his wife called me twice with updates on his condition for me to pass along to his brother. She chose to call me because between her English and my Spanish, we are able to communicate quite well. David's brother speaks no Spanish. She that he wasn't eating, that he couldn't talk, that he was skin and bones, that he was dying, all of which I shared with his brother. I also got the address of the apartment they had moved to in order to be closer to medical care and the name of a nearby hotel. Armed with this information his brother and wife made their way to Vallarta and were able to spend the weekend with him before he died. David was a kindred spirit, as my son Mike described him. He was a writer, an entrepreneur, a real estate developer and probably many other things I'm forgetting. He had lived in Mexico for decades and spoke fluent Spanish. He was charming, irreverent, creative, generous and very funny. He had three wives and two children. He welcomed us to Mexico many times over the years and arranged for housing at the time-share hotel in which he was a partner. He entertained us with boat trips and seafood barbecues on the beach. One year he came to Bethesda to celebrate my Dad's (his uncle's) 90th birthday. I always called him "mi primo favorito" (my favorite cousin) and it was true. Rest in peace, David. I'm going to miss you.

She'll Never Be the Same

Oh my, so much sadness, so much loss. I know, I know, it's called "life," but it's hard to bear sometimes. My dear friend L. lost her middle son last month, due to multiple causes: diabetes, drug and alcohol addiction, kidney failure, cirrhosis of the liver. He was in his mid-fifties and she was devastated. She had supported him in every way possible including one very expensive intervention in which the whole family participated. She sent him money which she could ill-afford. She cleaned his apartment when she visited. She paid his rent, his groceries, and his over-used credit card bills. They talked every week. Still, she couldn't save him. She knows there was nothing more she could have done. She knows his suffering is over, that he is in, as they say, "a better place." She knows that in time she will be able to move on. She also knows that she will never be the same.