The Nile…

 is more than a long rive in Africa. 

Recently I had a dose of Covid breakthrough de-nial. 

I hadn’t been feeling right.

Here were my symptoms:

1. Occasional dry cough and wet sneeze. This created instant social distancing and personal space.
   
2. Raspy voice. No,I don’t sound sexier.
3. Congestion  minus the green slime.
4. Incredible thirst. I’m drinking two gallons of water per day instead of one. 
5. Fatigue, but not enough to slow me down much.
6. Increased tinnitus. There’s an orchestra of clanging cymbals inside my head.
7. Chills 

 

At first I attributed these maladies to going from the dry warmth of Snobsdale back to Durango winter to toasty and humid Florida. All this motion within 72 hours. When I arrived in Florida to see brother Mike and sister-in-law Robin I was ill. (They both had breakthrough Covid and were past the contagious stage). 

In a day or two, I said to Mike, “I think I have Covid. There’s no allergens in the air and this isn’t acting like a typical cold.” 

Mike reassured me, “Jeff you would know it if it were Covid. It really hit us.”

After a sleepless night due to being nervous, very nervous the best brother in the world administered an at-home test for me. The results were negative. I was relieved but still felt unsure. No cold ever treated me this way.

The above symptoms continued. 

When I returned to Durango, I discovered four of my neighbors had come down with breakthrough Covid. Sort of like “Bang! Zoom! To the moon Moderna, Pfizer and J&J vaccines!” (Apologies to Ralph Kramden for the semi-quote.) The trifecta of vaccines were no match for the Oooooommmmmicrom variant. 

I happened upon Molly out walking her dogs. She’s a nurse, neighbor and one of the afflicted. 

I asked her what her symptoms for breakthrough Covid were. She nearly repeated all of mine including the unquenchable thirst. I told her about my negative Vid test. “The tests aren’t perfect for Omicron. There’s lots of false negatives.” 

BINGO! 

My breakthrough Covid hasn’t been debilitating. It’s been more annoying than anything . I’m now in Organ Pipe National Monument on the border of AZ/Mexico. I’m camping and hiking.I’m indulging in Happy Hour. I’m doing what I usually do. It’s been a hassle but it’s better than being attached to a ventilator in an ICU.

I’ll survive. 

Last photo: I’m not ready to be buzzard bait yet. Once again, I dodged the great inevitable.

I still trust the science behind the vaccines. The one thing we seem to be certain of is the uncertainty of Covid. Don’t be a long river in Africa. 

Our parents were right. Health is our greatest wealth. 

Jeff 

“Languishing” is a word…

 the New York Time bandies about when describing the current feelings of many Americans.

The psychologist and author Adam Grant provides an explanation:

Languishing is “the neglected middle child of mental health” and “the void between depression and flourishing — the absence of well-being.” He concluded: “By acknowledging that so many of us are languishing, we can start giving voice to quiet despair and lighting a path out of the void.”

Mr. Grant nails what some of us are experiencing as we stumble towards Earth’s third anniversary of Covid Freaking 19. 

Personally, I use a stronger word for what I’ve been dealing with since the latter part of 2021. I call it “malaise.” 

From the Merriam-Webster dictionary: “a slight or general feeling of not being healthy or happy.”

I’ve been “off” since November 2nd, right after the neighborhood “Pusher Party”. The days seemed too short and the nights too long. I questioned myself each and every date. “Is this the 5:30 time when I click on the coffee pot or the 5:30 time when I pop a top of an IPA?” I guess that’s to be expected when you’re averaging less than a handful of hours of sleep/night. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2021/11/you-dont-have-to-be-pusher.html

It didn’t help that my engagement calendar was mostly devoid of events to look forward to. (An appointment for a Subaru oil change isn’t socially  satisfying). I felt isolated, lonely and listless. Just like in the Covid lockdown days of 2020. No bueno. 

This past summer,I wrote about Covid hangover. In case you missed it: 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2021/10/the-covid-summer-of-not.html

I began counting down the days for a three week getaway to Snobsdale, AZ. (AKA Scottsdale). Well, I made it. It’s not that I’m in love with the fabulous shopping at the nearby Snobsdale Fashion Mall. I like it here for simple reasons. I’m outside more and hiking on ice-free trails. It’s been warm enough for flip flops, tank tops and baggy shorts. I’m catching up on my sleep. There’s hummingbirds, flowers and leaves on trees. I’ve seen lots of blockbuster holiday movies and have enjoyed a few Happy Hours with some old buddies. My time here flew by. I never once had to think is it 5:30 am or pm? For my mental health this was the right thing to do. 

 After Snobsdale my winter avoidance will continue. 

In a few days I’ll be in South Florida visiting the world’s  best brother and sister-in-law.  (AKA Mike and Robin). 

Then a short return to Durango for a Push Back Pizza Party. (Sanctuary Too will awake from hibernation.) Two days later, we all will be in Organ Pipe National Monument with a BUSY itinerary of hiking, reading, staring at desert scenery and drinking IPAs. In other words, working on my tan more than anything.

Followed by a few weeks in Death Valley National Park. By then, Durango’s daylight will be longer and the temperatures will be more moderate. Plus, I’m not too far away from desert camping. 

Soon, I’ll post my predictions on what the new year and beyond might bring. 

Here’s a preview. In the wee days of 2022,  all 329.5 million Americans will gather on the perimeter of our Great Nation. While holding hands in a continuous circle, we’ll all belt out a rousing rendition of Kumbaya. It’ll be the start of a Second Age of Enlightenment and the New Renaissance.

Well, not exactly.

Wishing you and yours a languishing-free New Year.

 

From Darkness a bit of Goodness

And charity.

As sure as the odds are of me popping a Happy Hour IPA, the US will surpass the million Covid related fatalities milestone in the near future. 

America’s Civil War was our last comparable infamous Death benchmark. Between the years 1861-1865,  620,000-750,000 Blue and Gray combatants were killed. (Most succumbed to disease rather than bullets or bombs). On November 3, 2021 the US Covid death count blew by that number in less than two years.

This is not something to be proud of. 

The US is now Numero Uno for Covid Deaths in the World. (Despite making up a mere 4.2% of Earth’s  inhabitants). Regrettably, many of these deaths were avoidable. Statistically speaking vaccines save lives. It’s mostly the unvaccinated and elderly who are ending up in the mortuaries. 

“Just since this summer, 150,000 unvaccinated Americans have needlessly lost their lives despite the widespread availability of vaccines,” Dr. Peter Hotez of the Baylor College of Medicine, in Houston. Source New York Times. 

So…the US will continue to stumble and stutter to the 1,000,000 mark.

Here’s what I’m proposing. People will make wagers on pretty much anything. How about a call the date of one million Covid deaths in the US?  

(This pool will make a charitable contribution to the hungry of La Plata county, CO.)

The rules are simple:

$5 entry fee/date.

Choose a date or a series of dates. 

In case of a tie, the betting pool will be split accordingly.

The “House” (that’s me) will subtract $1 per bet. Each and every George Washington note will be donated to the Durango Food Bank. In other words,  20% of your wager will go a worthwhile local charity. 

https://durangoareafoodbank.org/

The House (that’s me again) will accept cash, checks and PayPal. 

Contact me at: jeffsambur@gmail.com to place your bets and payment information.

My date is March 17th 2022. Saint Paddy’s Day.

Bets must be in no later than New Years Day 2022.

Feel free to forward this post to the other gamblers in your life. (More money means more donations to the DFB.)

I understand this is a dark post. I mean no disrespect to the victims of this seemingly endless pandemic. Some of the money will flow towards helping the hungry and the living of La Plata county. That’s how I’m justifying writing this.

On a personal note. I’ve become numb to the daily grind of Covid. 

Jennifer Nuzzo, an epidemiologist at Johns Hopkins University sums up my current feelings about the virus.

She was asked when the pandemic would end, she replied: “It doesn’t end. We just stop caring. Or we care a lot less.” She added, “I think for most people, it just fades into the background of their lives.”

Source Washington Post.

Stay healthy and safe out there. 

Jeff