Another year of living covidly

Like pretty much everyone else, as we enter our third covid year, I've had it.

Which seems like a pretty ridiculous and self-centered thing to say, given that my life has tootled along just fine. With one exception, no one I care about has had a severe case. And his case, while awful, wasn't severe enough for hospitalization.

But overall, the last couple of years...

2020...It started out okay-ish. Word of the pandemic starting to mosey around our consciousness. But what of it? It was just there, lurking. Lurking. Lurking.

In January, I went to the 65th birthday party for my friend Jake. Were we talking about the pandemic? Maybe a little. Mostly we were talking about Jake. Hundreds of folks. A nice tribute. It was, we all knew, Jake's big Irish wake. He was dying. ALS.

In early March, there was a big retirement party for my brother Rick. Hundreds of folks. A nice tribute. A nice night. But that was the last big public anything for a while. Did we talk about covid? A bit. The next weekend, I was supposed to go out to eat with my sister Trish, but we looked at each other and decided "nah."

And then things really started getting pretty awful, what with the uncertainty, the terrifying reports coming out of NYC, the isolation. The panicked search for masks, for gloves, for Lysol wipes, for toilet paper. 

Those first few months, I barely saw anyone, other than on Zoom. I took my walks, I went masked to the grocery store as needed, and I had a few masked meet-ups - me on the sidewalk, friends and family in their cars. 

Rick started coming over for a weekly dinner. Then his daughter Caroline began joining us. They were my pod. 

My sister Kath and I share a hairdresser, and in June 2020, Kath had Rita come to her backyard to cut our hair. Other than when Rita was clipping our hair, we all kept our distance; we all stayed masked. 

Other than from the sidewalk, I don't remember when I finally saw my sister Trish. She and her daughter Molly came for my truncated 2020 Christmas Eve not-much-of-a-celebration, but I'm pretty sure that, when things started easing up a bit during the summer, we must have seen each other a time or two. But it's a blur. 

In August, I "attended", via Zoom, the funeral of my cousin's daughter. 

In September, I masked up and took my chances with a bus trip to the Cape, and lunch on the front porch at my cousin's. 

That month, I also ventured out to the finale of a fundraising run for Jake. I had a distanced chat with a few friends. Masked. Within a month, Jake was gone...

I started taking masked walks with my friend K, but neither of us ventured back to volunteering at St. Francis House.

In October, we had lunch outside at the Seaport. It was a moment.

In November, I went to City Hall to early vote for Joe Biden.

The Saturday after the election, K and I were on the bridge heading over to the Esplanade for our walk when we heard horns starting to beep and people starting to cheer. Biden had been declared the winner. Thank God!

Thanksgiving, I "celebrated"with a sausage and pepper sandwich - the one I hadn't been able to have at Fenway Park during the baseball season since there was no Fenway Park in 2020. 

Right before Christmas 2020, I took a masked walk with a small group of friends to see the lights on The Common, in the Public Garden, along the Commonwealth Mall. 

Other than the January insurrection - and that's a pretty big other - 2021 started with the promise that we'd soon have the vaccine.

And, sure enough, after a mad - and I do mean mad - scramble to find a shot, in late February, I got my first jab. Friends and family were getting theirs, too.

Then 2021 got pretty damned good. 

All of a sudden, you didn't need to wear a mask when you were outside. Friends and family could get together. For real. We could actually go and sit down in a restaurant. I was back to volunteering at St. Francis House, and for my friend Jake's charity, Christmas in the City. Christmas Eve and my house was - get this! - completely normal.

And then...

Here comes omicron.

The Tuesday after Christmas, I had lunch with a couple of friends, including my friend Peter who was the friend who'd had the worst bout of covid (just pre-vaccine) of anyone I'm close to. Trish was supposed to be there, but she bowed out with a cold. I brought along a covid test (which my cousin MB had brought as a hostess gift for Christmas Eve) which our friend Michele - who lives near Trish - dropped off. Negative. Yay!

I was exposed to covid the Wednesday after Christmas. I was fully masked, and the contact was with a fully masked and vaxxed/booster staff member at St. Francis. He was perfectly fine at the time. But that night he wasn't perfectly fine, and he tested positive with his home test kit.

The head of volunteers let me know on Thursday, and sent me home with a test kit and some hot chocolate mix (complete with marshmallows, candy canes, and a mug).

I isolated. No New Year's Eve at Trish's. I watched the kiddie fireworks on the Common at 7 p.m., and was in bed by 10. 

On Monday, I used the home test. Negative. Just to be sure, I did it again on Wednesday. Negative. (Can I have a yay?)

More and more, we're seeing breakthrough covid. But the vaccine is holding. Most cases are mild - if they even rise to that level. Like a cold, we're hearing. The people getting sick, the people dying, are for the most part unvaxxed, unmasked. Sorry/not sorry, but I have zero fucks to give for these folks who, through their ignorance, stubborness, and selfishness, are - at this late date - prolonging the pandemic for everyone else.

Fingers crossed that the pandemic burns itself out in the next month or so. Or gets itself under control so that we can once again resume the new normal, at least at the level we enjoyed this past summer and fall. 

Like pretty much everyone else, as we enter our third covid year, I've had it with living covidly.