Known COVID-19 deaths in the U.S. - 971,087
Over the weekend, I've had more than one friend ask if I was going to any writer conferences in 2022. I've politely said, "I doubt it. I don't feel comfortable traveling yet."
What I really want to say is, "Are you fucking kidding me?!"
I literally cannot afford to get COVID-19 regardless of the variant. When I say I'm immuno-compromised, it means the common cold lays me out for two weeks. The flu? Last time I had it, I was sick from complications from January to May. After using the toilet, I had to lay down on the bathroom floor to rest for 15 minutes before I could crawl back to my bed or the couch.
Believe me, I wish I were joking about the last part. But it's still better than getting blown up for going to a hospital to deliver my baby like in Ukraine right now.
Maybe I'm paranoid. Maybe I'm not. But I'm definitely not the only Gen-Xer making jokes about hiding under our school desks in case the nukes start dropping. We live roughly equidistant from five major U.S. cities. And that doesn't include the fallout from Chicago blowing our way. Our town is fucked if the current war goes nuclear.
The old fear is back. As I explained to GK the other night, I never wanted him or my grandchildren to feel the shadow DH and I experienced when we were growing up. In some ways, now it's worse because we're dealing with batcrap crazy people. Or person. Oh, let's name names. Vlad Putin is knucking futs!
So between the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic and Vlad's finger hovering over a big red button, I'm not going anywhere for a while. I'm going to hide out at home like I've done for the last two years.
Because if I'm going to die, I want to be with my loved ones when I do.
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