Life Changes

The progress of The Outbreak is continuing to change the way we behave and to control more and more of what we do and don't do, even way out here in the wilderness. There have been no cases of The Disease reported in New Mexico, but still.

Things have been disappearing from the stores -- we have a few -- for weeks. Hand sanitizer has long been hard to come by or unavailable. Stocks of toilet paper have been declining, but you can still get some. OTC pharmaceuticals are iffy, depending on what they are. Vitamins -- particularly B12 and D3 -- are spotty at best. Masks? Forget about it. Ordering online is not much better, as availability is limited and price gouging is not uncommon. No one is panicking that I've seen, but there seem to be fewer people out and about.

We live a few miles from the Interstate, and there are three truckstops and a number of motels for travelers in "town" up the road. That means, of course, that transmission is almost certain -- eventually. What happens then, we don't know.

There is an urgent care and a public health office in "town" so there is that. What they can or will do if there is an outbreak here is anyone's guess. So far, no announcements have been made, and concern is still modest. We may not be safe, but there is time to prepare.

I've been essentially housebound for several years due to my condition. That condition requires me to take a lot of immunosuppresant medication -- which keeps me relativeley pain free, but it means I'm at very high risk of succumbing to the disease given my age and compromised immune system.

Ms. Ché is also at high risk due to age and diabetes. She didn't go to a writers' convention in San Antonio because of the risk, and now she's learned that several other conventions and conferences she was planning to attend this month and next have been canceled. We're wondering if her graduation ceremonies will be canceled in May when she's supposed to be getting her MFA. She long ago made plans, bought tickets to a concert and arranged lodging in Las Vegas for June. That might be canceled too. She lost her pre-paid nonrefundable hotel charges in San Antonio (about $500) and she may lose much more if the Las Vegas trip doesn't materialize as she prepaid all of that almost a year ago.

I was planning on making one more trip to California to close down our storage there, but it may not happen this year at all. We'll see.

It's definitely an odd sensation, knowing something (may be) coming, knowing there's not a whole lot we can do about it, knowing the regime is concerned primarily with appearances, and knowing this could be an end game. But then, realistically, it's always an end game, isn't it.

Things could change in an instant -- or not.

Stay well out there.

"She looks like she's sleeping normally..."

A friend just called and apologized for not coming over to see Betty today -- she only had one visitor today, and that was probably enough in any case. My friend was pretty broken up about not coming over, though. He was remembering the loss of his parents, first his father and then his mother, and how much it took out of him and yet how much he gained from being there for them when he could be, staying with his father for his final days. He said he couldn't handle his emotions if he'd seen Betty again; it would have been too much. "Is she hanging on?" Yes, I said. Barely. "She looks like she's sleeping normally..."

But she is definitely on a journey.

As we talked on the phone, I could tell my friend was bawling his eyes out. Sometimes it's best just to let loose like that. I know when the priest came yesterday it was pretty constant tears around here, but Betty could hear us testifying about so many of the wonderful things she'd done for us and the special spiritual gifts she'd given us. And she smiled that astonishing smile of hers, and she let us know she liked hearing us say how good she was!

Well, she was and is. So there.

Betty's been on that journey several times before, but she's never quite reached her goal. She said she saw her son on that journey once, a son who'd been killed by a drunk driver while he was helping a motorist change a tire beside the road almost 40 years ago, and she said he told her, "Momma, it's not time yet, you have to go back, but I'll be here to meet you when it is the right time." She's seen her mother and her father, and she says she thinks she's seen her little brother who died when he was three years old. She's described her experiences there, "in that place", in great detail, and she's had no fear of going there again. No fear at all.

And we're very grateful for that.

When "T" was here this morning, Betty was still able to communicate, to share a few words, to smile, to listen to stories. And that was good. It was a fine morning.

Tomorrow? We can't know. But Betty has been letting us know that she's OK and she's going to be OK.

Bless her heart.