EXHAUSTED

 

Exhaustion is an interesting state of being. Eyes don’t want to open; body doesn’t want to move; brain gets stuck in places it can’t find its way out of. Willpower sometimes rises – I am from New England, after all, so just like all Granite Staters and other northerners, one does what needs doing until it’s done and exhaustion be damned – and sometimes just sits around nagging when brain and body won’t respond. Very annoying - willpower can be very annoying, sometimes it just won’t shut up. Which when you’re exhausted, is more exhausting.

I’ve been exhausted for months. I’d like to tell you it’s the Covid thing – we’re all exhausted by the Covid thing and its restrictions and its protocols – or that it’s politics – and it was indeed an exhausting last four years, without doubt, and there’s a particular political party which is still exhausting to think about or hear from – but my exhaustion has more to do with Florida.

Florida is a state I’ve been in three times in my life: once, decades ago, when I went with my friend to meet and visit her parents who benightedly moved there when they retired from the military – this visit was at the end of May while we were still in college – and after that trip, I swore I’d never go there again. The season was what they considered to be still winter, so the A/C wasn’t on; it rained every 15 minutes for about 5 minutes; and every time I opened the door to step outside hoping for just a little fresh air, someone would shout, “Watch out for the alligators!”

I HATED Florida.

I managed to avoid Florida for upwards of 40 years. When my friend still lived in New England, we visited each other, but when she decided to move to Florida to be near her folks after she divorced, I never saw her again – at least, that’s what I expected. But her mom died many years ago, and my friend’s an only child; about 6 years ago she and her aged dad began living together on and off, for companionship and to lower their individual stress levels; and then three years ago that part-time living situation became permanent and full-time. And I promised to come to Florida to help when her dad, who had a heart condition, died.

Which he did this spring. His heart finally failed him. And after attempting to get my PCP to tell me that no, I absolutely shouldn’t go anywhere near Covid-ridden Florida, I had to go. My PCP pointed out that I was vaccinated so there really wasn’t any reason to go.

My friend isn’t well, but I couldn’t tell how much so over the phone. I’d heard about some of it, but her voice was normal, she thinks as well as any 68-year-old, she has many interests, and she told me how she was taking care of Dad and he was taking care of her – she gave me a little insight into the memory problems, the physical problems, the energy problems, but I really had no idea how bad things were. When I got there, I was shocked.

So exhaustion started. There was too much to do, too much to set in place, too much to see to in the short three weeks I was there. Cousin Paula, who also lives many states away and is the only relative, went down a week after I left and took over some of the chores. But still there was too much for either of us to do efficiently around jobs and distance, and everything had to be done, because my friend is physically and energetically and psychically incapable of doing it. I’m not complaining, I’m just describing: all my free time has been devoted to another life for the past 4 months, and I’m exhausted. 

In-between chores, I got the garden planted, but everything else has been put off. Now I’m back from Florida for the 2^nd time, and hoping I’ll not have to go there again for a very long time, and I’m more exhausted than I was. My garden got out of hand during the weeks I was away; my CEU classes didn’t get taken; I’m pretty sure I missed a Medicare deadline; the chipmunks took out yet another tomato plant, ate all my beets, and have started on the parsnips; and still there’s some paperwork that needs sorting, pursuing, checking on, dealing with, from Florida.

And this time in Florida, I was exposed to Covid.

I have no symptoms; I’ll find out next week if I’m an asymptomatic carrier. The person who exposed me was vaccinated and asymptomatic, but since I’ve been back, I’ve heard that my friend, who is vaccinated, is running a fever and coughing hard; her part-time care-giver is running a low-grade fever and coughing; and the person who is the well for this spread caught it from her vaccinated husband, who thought he was just suffering from a summer cold.

 

The Delta variation is a bastard. It’s easy to catch; it’s easy to pass on. We all need to be wearing masks again, and sanitizing, and distancing, and being aware and careful, even around vaccinated people. WE ALL NEED TO BE VACCINATED. No excuses, I’m sorry, the small minority of people who really shouldn’t get vaccinated is a lot smaller than the group of people who aren’t vaccinated, even here in northern New England where willpower generally gets us to do what needs doing.

It’s dangerous, and it’s not fair. Before I found out I was exposed, I exposed my husband and possibly a friend. I can’t see patients; I can’t earn my rent, or money for food and electricity and all that jazz. My patients can’t get treated, and have to worry about when it’ll be safe for them to come back for treatment. I can’t go see my 89-year-old mother; I can’t go to the post office, or shop for groceries. I may have put my husband’s biggest money-making event of the year at risk.

And I’m exhausted.

 

For the blog: herondragonwrites.blogspot.com    1 August 2021

All photos Deb Marshall 

Balloon flowers; and weeds. Don't judge me, I've been away and I'm exhausted!