Hello all. This was a lousy day. My relapse of Epstein-Barr virus (mononucleosis) put me in bed for the entire afternoon. What a strange disease — one that leaves you feeling exhausted after sleeping for five hours. It also makes me foggy sometimes. I worked for hours on a post about the Viktor Orban situation in Hungary, but I haven’t yet finished it because I really want to get this right, but it’s hard to focus. I apologize for not approving comments all day, either. I’ll get to them tonight.

Above is a photo of my wife and daughter watching a movie in our side yard. Nora, my kid, put a bedsheet on the wall, and got a projector. She and her mom are out there watching “Where’d You Go, Bernadette” on a picnic blanket. Girls know how to stay at home, apparently.

How’s it going with you all? Let’s check in.

From Connecticut:

During these challenging times, I am keenly aware of the intersection of my past with these times, dreams past and current realities, but hope most of all . I too dreamt the American Dream: white picket fence, garden, children. In the words of my uncle Jack, “one wife, one job, one home.” Jack worked as a lineman for Bell Telephone. Lived his last days in a doublewide, one of the first featured in Life magazine. In private the family mocked him for his choice. P.S. He left the church close to a million dollars when he died. Uncle Jack Visited his wife in a nursing home daily until her death. Took his mentally ill sister under his wing, a promise he made to his father on his dad’s deathbed, Visited his mother most day during his lunch break. A small compartment built into the wall of his bedroom where holy water was kept in case of need by a priest. A few years ago, desperately wanting to hear the family stories and understand the dark threads which ran generationally through my family, I flew from Connecticut to San Jose to try to make sense of my deeply fractured family, rife with depression –a high gloss white medicine cabinet — as if white became black — from which my mother drew meds to keep her going, to keep her after my father died at 44 leaving leaving her at 38 with five children, no skills and two in diapers. Far away from the bucolic country side of Connecticut. My past followed me. The good, the bad and the indifferent. Raised in the Catholic Church I lived in mortal fear of hell. Through no fault of the Catholic church I had not heard the good news. heard only the rules. if my classmates could not find me the confessional line was a safe bet. What kept me when nothing else did? Awe and wonder in the presence of majesty, sanctity and holiness of the sacraments and liturgy which while I did not understand…. perhaps it was not understanding which helped to keep me. It was Mystery.

Several days after I began writing this, my adult son, husband, I fell ill with the virus. I am writing from my bed. My husband presented with one set of symptoms, middle of the night cough which shook our bed. He went by ambulance to the hospital, was prescribe an inhaler and sent home. Returned today to stand in a long line to be tested at that same hospital. My adult son and I presented with a different set of symptoms: excruciating headaches, aches, fever, chills and gastro. What I had dismissed as flu for my son, allergies for me, these differences were explained by my doctor as variations of the virus. We are not, as of yet anyway, in spite of the endless stream of terrifying images, in spite of our worst fears, not gasping for air. (p.s my husband is 83).

For the past two years My husband and I along with one of our sons have prepared our home to sell in a growing competitive housing market. We planned to list on April 1! So much for that plan. To remain in this house, which we may have to do–housing market bad enough before the pandemic–we will have to consider renting out bedrooms.

I grew up In Tulsa, Oklahoma in a neighborhood where, in the words of one of those neighbor, “We borrow everything from each other except for our husbands. However, as necessary, even them.” I lived in that neighbor’s back yard, stocked with a playhouse, monkey bars, swings. That one woman’s back yard was my childhood. I played from early morning until dinner then back out until called inside from this neighbors’ yard. One year her Christmas card suggested singing John 3:16 to the tune of Silent Night.

My husband and I, along with tremendous help from our oldest son, have spent the last two years preparing our home to sell, The housing market bottomed before the pandemic. Will it go lower? We had planned to list the house April 1. My self-employed husband works full time. When he lost his corporate job he began his own business, something he had always wanted to do. He earned $30,000 the first year. Our family of five did not go hungry thanks to our community of friends who sent anonymous checks. We did not go hungry. If and when we do sell the house we will have to live on what we make on the house. Our adult children live close by and my husband, assuming he still has a job, covers the tri-state. We are tied to this area. How long can he work? where will we go? If we must stay we will have to find a way. Tenants? Maybe. whatever it takes.

My daughter lives in Hoboken New Jersey, works in Manhattan for a non profit. As membership director of the company as well as collector of monthly fees she is the only one in the company bringing in money. There is enough payroll for the next two months.

My family has experienced our share of heartache and loss, illness, broken familial relationships, addiction, and generational mental illness. I cannot help but believe it was those Godly models, “cloud of witnesses,” neighbor, Bible study teachers– one a funky self -taught Brethren, who without benefit of notes, opened and taught straight from her black used King James, no “processed food from Isabell and friends who became my cherished family. Manifestations of God’s grace. Grace which I came to understand through Martin Luther himself a victim of Scrupulosity (a form of OCD) speaking, imagine, all these centuries later, to a fellow sinner and scrupe like me.

It is as if the world we once knew has been ripped into a million pieces and thrown out the window as confetti on a parade of fallen pride. God spreads grace like a five year old spreads peanut butter. I am counting on that.

From Albuquerque, New Mexico:

We live in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The officials here, especially the Governor, have been relatively aggressive in imposing restrictions. The statewide closure of non-essential businesses and stay-at-home measures came on March 23, just days after similar measures in New York. At the time, New York had about 15 times as many cases per million residents as New Mexico.

We live in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The officials here, especially the Governor, have been relatively aggressive in imposing restrictions. The statewide closure of non-essential businesses and stay-at-home measures came on March 23, just days after similar measures in New York. At the time, New York had about 15 times as many cases per million residents as New Mexico.

On one hand, the fact that our state is moving comparatively quickly gives me hope that our state may suffer less. On the other hand, I am very concerned by the swift neutering of our civil liberties and the economic impact of widespread closures. New Mexico is a petroleum state, highly dependent on oil and gas for state tax revenues, and the recent drop in oil prices is going to devastate the state budget. Combined with the impact of the pandemic, our state is going to be serious economic distress in in the coming months and years.

My family and I have been very fortunate that our circumstances are allowing us to weather this storm. I am an attorney and sole practitioner, without any employees. I don’t have to make payroll or lay anyone off. My practice, representing plaintiffs in injury and insurance matters, is a type where it’s normal to go several months without revenue, and I happened to have had a very lucrative first quarter.

Even before the crisis, my practice was cloud-based, with all files digital and synced to my cloud provider. My full transition to working from home took about 20 minutes. With schools closed, my wife, a teacher, has been able to watch the kids full time.

We are members of an Episcopal church, one of the few in the nation that is growing rather than shrinking, with lots of young families. Our clergy have been extraordinary in creating streaming services and activities, not just on Sunday mornings, but throughout the week. I am a member of the vestry, and we conducted last month’s meeting through Zoom.

I am working to remain humbly grateful for our circumstances and keeping perspective on the inconveniences, knowing what so many are facing today. Your pandemic diaries have been an invaluable aid in this respect.

From Indianapolis:

(Rod, below is a letter I wrote to “Jim”—a fellow congregant of a local Indianapolis Lutheran Church. I had become seriously ill on St. Valentine’s Day and spent nearly four weeks in the hospital. Talk about being a “health compromised” individual! During this entire time, the dreaded coronavirus was a distinct possibility for me. Either I already had the disease or (if not) it posed a very real threat to my life. Now I am comfortably situated in my bedroom and family member keep their distance. I am 66 years old and not nearly as resilient as had been as a young man. Under the right circumstances, the corona virus could kill me. We are not taking any chances to find out one way or another.)

Jim:

One interesting little bit of information gathered from a blood draw during my most recent adventure in the hospital is that I have an A1C of 5.9. 5.9 is ever close to a perfect blood sugar balance as one might get. How this occurred is a mystery to me. As Linda has noted, I have taken to eating cookies by the bucketful. I thought my A1C would have been terrible not so much for the cookies but really for the general turmoil in my health these past few months. So, what do I know about medicine?

I collapsed in the shower on the morning of St. Valentine’s Day. I have no memory of the incident.

One week later, I was admitted into Community Rehab hospital straight from Community East. I was going to be there for two weeks and so I was quite downhearted about my circumstances. Not that what needed to be done would be too difficult. Not that the people were awful. The nurses and therapists were all wonderful. (My shapely and easy on the eyes occupational and physical therapists are two of my favorite people in the world.) No. None of that. The fact was I was going to be away from my family and home.

My record collection wasn’t there. Nor my books. On no account would they allow me to smoke my pipes. They were even stingy in regard to my beloved Diet Coke. But I’d miss Linda most of all. Linda and I have been an “item” since our junior year of high school (1970). We rarely have been apart. Some people think I am missing something in life when I say Linda is my very best friend; but it is all true—Linda is the best thing that ever happened to me. Knowing it was going to be an additional fourteen days before we be together again was a bit dismaying.

A couple of days into my rehab stay, I took a look at the calendar on my laptop and suddenly realized there was an entire week I could not account for. It turns out I have absolutely no memory of that first week. Now Linda has told me of all the events of that week, and I tell you it sounds quite horrifying. I was on a ventilator for two days. At one point, the doctors told Linda she could not go home for the night because there may be “life issues” that might have to be faced that night. Apparently, once I woke up, I was a real terror. I would argue with anyone about anything. Hardly my normal sweet, charming self.

Linda thinks I should be glad I don’t remember that week.

The end of that story is my doctors concluded I had some sort of heart attack and that is why I collapsed in the bathroom.

I was discharged Friday, March 6th. I was one cheerful guy. It was so wonderful to be home. Things settled into my usual routines. Life is good!!! It was then on Wednesday, March 18th, that I had just finished up my usual office tasks. I climbed the first set of stairs to the main floor of our house. Reaching that main floor, I noted to myself that that climb was harder than it should have been. I felt weak and tired. So, I decided to rest for a while and then make that next climb. I covered myself with a blanket and promptly fell asleep.

A few hours later, Linda and Erin grew concerned. Erin took my temperature. It was 105. ER time!

I was greeted in the ER by nurses and doctors all wearing masks and protective gear. The Corona virus had raised its ugly head and everyone coming into the hospital were to be treated as potential carriers. In time, they took me up to a patient room in the oncology wing. The oncology wing being where they were putting all suspected corona suffers. They did the corona virus test on me; but said it was hard knowing when they’d get the results. Could be four days. Could be four weeks.

My fever broke during my stay in the ER; I felt quite better. So, I wanted to go home. My doctor strongly advised against it. I eventually conceded to her advice and agreed to stay; but I clearly indicated my unhappiness with the situation. I have already spent a month in the hospital in 2020 and I had had enough.

Thursday and Friday passed painfully slow. Aside from the cascade of nurses and doctors who poked their noses into my room, there was little for me to do except watch television. (And, yes, daytime TV is as bad as everyone says it is.) Taking my vitals, drawing my blood, and being asked the same questions over and over again were all that broke up the long stretches of empty time. And then came Saturday.

The morning came as it had all the days before. Blood draws. Taking of vitals. Being asked “when was the last time you took a crap?” A small breakfast. Merciful heavens! When I was finally left alone, I began to plan out what to watch on television for the day—a dismal project. At about 9.00a, my primary doctor came in my room and said: “Mr. Dooley, I am determined to get on your good side today. How would you feel about being discharged from the hospital today?”

I had no signs of having the corona virus. Looking at the patterns of the illness in other parts of the world, the hospital was anticipating a huge wave of persons truly sick from the virus in the coming week. They were going to need my bed. I just had to self-isolate once at home.

“I can go for that!”

Linda came and took me home. A big stack of mail was waiting for me; but now was the time for sweet, peaceful sleep. Oh, how great it was to sleep for ten uninterrupted hours.

So, here I am. I have my music and books. Plenty of engaging time to read and write. I am so grateful to be home—even though I have largely confined myself to our bedroom and bathroom. Linda, Erin, Liam and Ellie largely keep their distance for fear they might transfer dome random bug to their “wellness-compromised” family member.

Linda has absolutely forbidden any pipe smoking in our bedroom; so that part has yet to be fulfilled. Many would say “good”. Oh, well. I remain very happy to be home. The cherry on top of this Ice-cream sundae: the hospital called me Monday to tell me my corona virus test came out negative. I do not have or had the corona virus. At least that bullet missed me!

I am not happy when I remind myself that I haven’t seen the inside of Servants of Christ since last August. Yeah, you can watch services online, but it is not the same. Can’t partake of the sacrament. And I miss the people.

Here’s to prayers for healing for me and all suffering under pain and illness. I am thankful for all the prayers given by our SOC family.

Well….probably more than you care to know! Hope all is well for you and yours. Hope all is well for our larger SOC Lutheran family. Please keep in touch.

Yours in Christ,
Mike

From New Jersey:

I’m writing from Northern New Jersey. I live a county away from Bergen, the hardest hit county in the our state. I’m 23, in reasonably good health and shape, but I do have asthma. However, my brother has severe autism and epilepsy, and with the amount of medication he is on, his immune system would likely be unable to combat coronavirus. Furthermore, the hospitals won’t let the family in the hospital to help him be treated; this is the nightmare scenario for our family. So needless to say we are very nervous and taking all the precautions necessary to prevent bringing the virus home. To any other readers who have disabled family members at home that you’re concerned about, I feel for you immensely, and remind you to seek solace and clarity in God and the strengths of your family and friends. That’s how I keep my sanity, though I am not sure how much sanity I will have left when all is said and done.

I’m also currently a college student (I took a 2-year interregnum from college to help care for my brother, and this is the first semester I’ve been back. What a way to continue your education, in the middle of a pandemic). So I fortunately and unfortunately don’t have a job to lose. However, I was banking on working 2 jobs over the summer to pay for school in the fall, so we’ll see how bad this really gets and how long “non-essential” NJ businesses remain closed. Currently my sister and my dad are “essential” employees, but my sister can’t work from home. Fortunately she does pharmaceutical research and is wearing PPE (Personal Protection Equipment) every day, at all times. There are many families in worse situations with people working hospitality or food service, so my prayers go to them.

I am a recent convert to Catholicism, with the help of several friends. Fitting that I was able to find God on the eve of the pandemic, is it not? So I don’t wish to speak with any authority on what “Christians” should be doing or will do. But what I will say is that as a Christian, as long as we nurture our own hearts and our connection to God, and model that for others, and do our charitable works, then we have done all we can to help shape our communities in this time of strife. Rod I hope you get better, and I cannot thank you enough for the content you create. Stay safe and be healthy sir.

Thank you, dear people. Please keep sending in your diaries. I’m at rod – at – amconmag – dot – com. Please put PANDEMIC DIARIES in the subject line, and don’t forget to say from where you write.