Friday, 4 December 2020

Well ... that much about that ....

 


Some more 'cruel strikers' ...

 As I've mentioned before, the concept of a 'cruel striker' is what I call a fake letter or a fake message, designed to make someone feel better, even though it is a very thin, transparent lie. not for the piece of paper itself, but for the sense of it. To write 'cruel strikers' is akin to giving someone a bullshit faith experience or somesuch. A tiny, private matter. Criminally arrogant, engineered for pure good. 


So. My gran will be a 100 tomorrow. I've not seen her in several months and they don't allow visits even though a window, as they did in the spring. There isn't much I can buy and send her, except perhaps fake flowers, which would be allowed and easily disinfected. She can't hear or see well enough for the phone, which we've tried, and all that stuff we used to gift her - blankies, perfumes, toiletries, sweets, room decor and so on, none of that serves her any longer, half because she's always kept her room minimal and just gives clutter away, but mostly because the caretakers already provide all the bath products needed and the retirement home is really taking great care of her. Materially, she lacks for nothing. Much of the rest she can't really see. 


So the only thing I could think of, is to write a bunch of cruel strikers. I used different pens and different writings and I'll admit I could have used a lot nicer handwriting for mum, as that one is probably the only one she'll care about, but G helped me deliver a dozen of them to the Home's address, so in my mind, when today the caretakers visit her, she'll have a dozen different greeting cards. I will probably buy and write and send some more, so they keep coming for the next few days. I sign almost everyone I can think of, from people in this building to people who work in the bakery across the street. I am of half a mind to sign my late brother, but I desire none to post it that far. I'd even sign the president, but he's an asshole and she would just get angry if he wrote to her - though I think the major does congratulate the centenarians. Some signees know of this, others will never find out. It matters too little, I think. I think she will only care that her room is suddenly full of best wishes and greetings. That's the idea, at least. Cruel strikers never really work. 

Tuesday, 1 December 2020

Just wiped my nose and then spent 20 minutes googling what medical condition causes your snot to be orange, before the General woke up and said: mulling french sienna without a face mask last night. 


Sometimes the brain just won't brain. 

Monday, 30 November 2020

Am so nervous about this stupid fucking virus I just ate a bagel which was accidentally unsalted and freaked out - two people had to try a piece to confirm it's not me who's lost all taste, but the bagel. 

         Nine days in dad still has no symptoms at all. I am beginning to suspect his test was a false positive and they just wheeled him to a Covid ward in the middle of the night and left him there. Had I not gone batshit hysterical and kidnapped him from the hospital, he might have actually contracted something. I think I will hold onto this version, as it makes me sound heroic and everyone is fine in the end. Three days to go and they can get their dog back. Not that much will change, mum will just return the furniture and curtains and paintings I took out, and won't have to get upset so much when she finds crumpets in the morning. That is not a metaphor, he literally sneaks into the pantry to steal the good food in the middle of the night. As I said, we've calculated that into the risk factor and mum disinfects everything regardless.  

Saturday, 28 November 2020

Had one of the worst panic attacks of late, last night. I had to truly explain to the General, that I am not a crazy person, I am just really really freaked out and I have been acting far too calm and brave lately, because I really am not and I haven't the strength to be anything but myself in front of this one fucking person in the whole damn world. 


But this morning he had three missed calls from dad's number very early and he felt it, too - that sinking horrific sense of panic, right up until the moment it evaporates like a soap bubble - like a tense scene in a horror movie, when the creeping shadow turns out to be some random mailman or something ... Dad urgently needed to cancel his request for bagels and instead asked us to bring him burek. (Meaty pastry alternative.) It was so important - like in the mind of a very small child - it was a life and death situation, because he was starving and everyone needed to drop everything and deliver that to him. a) he is far from starving, in fact he's getting fat and b) for fuckssakes. He isn't half as senile as he acts. Now the General knows how I feel all the time. It feels like that all the fucking time. 

Friday, 27 November 2020

It's really creepy actually, all we do is wait and worry and wait and worry and try not to read statistics as they are gravely unfavourable, and I was told even the retirement home where gran is, even with all their strict precautions, got back two ladies from the hospital who got infected there. I have no fucking idea what they are doing in that fucking place, do they go around licking these people or what the fuck. Dad was in the INFECTIONS ward for chrissakes. ALONE in a room. There are safety guards with GUNs station at the gates. One is safer anywhere else at the moment. 

Thursday, 26 November 2020

 Okay, so far, so good and we've arranged for a makeshift safe zone for dad to stay in and mum to avoid .... if only he wouldn't secretly break their rules. which we've taken into calculations. The problem is, he seems to be asymptomatic because of all the medicine he's already taking for his heart and diabetes - as I understand people like that show no symptoms, they just go at some point. I need to find a way to monitor his blood oxygen. I wonder if Samsung Health is at all reliable, or even just a little bit indicative? Geez, if only doctors had cars and would be able to visit their quarantined patients at their homes to measure these magical bodily functions, eh? 


Do those fancy sports watches you get with fancy phones work like that? Measure O2? they should. I am fairly certain we have one of those somewhere... around here ...

Wednesday, 25 November 2020

Okay, think. 

Fuck.

Okay. There is only so little we can do, but I think the first thing to do is get him out of that fucking hospital. And then hope for the best. I am so scared I have to shit five times a day. But this is like being in a wakeful nightmare and my brain keeps trying to help and keeps erasing my memories, so I walk around and think: but why am I shaking and feel so anxious? Oh, right, dad has covid, I forgot.