When my state of Washington went into the “Stay Home, Stay Safe” mode, I had pictured total isolation with me, myself, and I. As it’s turned out, I haven’t had a single full day alone. Whether it be family, cyber contacts or six feet away relationships with friends, I’ve seldom been by myself. I also imagined a long period of staying put in my condo. This condition lasted for about three weeks until suddenly, I found myself out and about.
Don’t worry; it was an emergency of sorts due to an eye condition which turned ugly. An inner stye became abscessed and my eyelid swelled up, causing a need to leave my condo for an appointment. So, I donned my home-made mask, which further messed-up my vision, and drove to a doctor across town. I wondered if my danger from Corona outweighed this crisis, but eyes are handy things to have.
The doctor extended my already prescribed warm water treatments and gave me a new antibiotic prescription. This meant another trip out into the world to enter the huge Costco, a frightful prospect. I chose the 8:00 AM Senior hour to do this, in the hope I would avoid big crowds and maintain social distancing. However, when I arrived, I noted an almost full parking lot–not a good sign. As I approached the entrance, the line wrapped around the building and wound its way almost to the gas pumps which discouraged me. Visions of my time in line for several hours played through my head.
Then I suddenly remembered the phone message I had heard earlier. Customers who only had prescriptions to pick up would be allowed to enter at the front of the line, which I did. They even provided me with an escort. At first, this puffed me up; it gave me the feeling of being a VIP. I soon realized it was another safety precaution to assure that I went directly to the pharmacy and nowhere else.
When I arrived there, I noticed that even the waiting line area was marked off by six-foot increments. The section was populated with elders wearing a variety of masks, and some had gloves. It wasn’t long until I was headed to the checkout stands, which were occupied with several pairs of employees, twiddling their thumbs. They seemed eager to see me but cautious. The young man asked me to turn over my card, so he didn’t have to touch it, while I was required to enter my pin number on a keyboard used by many other customers. A feeling of panic began to seize me until I observed another worker going around wiping off surfaces everywhere, as his main job.
With all these safety precautions, I felt better, but the “touch me not” attitude was somewhat off-putting. When I arrived home, I thoroughly washed my hands and relaxed, safe, once more, in my little condo. Hopefully, this would be my last venture out of my home until the virus had passed.
Wouldn’t you know, this was not to be. The very next day, I had another semi-emergency. I had tried to replace a lost credit card via the phone due to my less than scintillating computer skills. This solution worsened when I was warned by a recorded message about an approximate two hour wait due to Corona. As usual, when communicating with phone robots, I become confused and ended up ordering two cards.
To repair the damage, I called my local bank branch to talk with an actual human who didn’t require me to define my problem in a list of usually asked questions. I spoke with a friendly bank representative who offered to help me if I’d like to come down to their nearby location which she said was almost empty. We joked about the impact of our masks: hers made her dizzy, while mine made me feel like I was suffocating. This masked angel not only assisted me in stopping one of my cards, but also helped me set up my online banking on my phone, something way over my pay grade. I could have hugged her, if not for social distancing.
Hopefully, my trips outside the condo compound are at an end until that great day when we’re given the All Clear. In the meantime, I’m learning the most basic of computer skills, since this has become essential. My dear, sweet brother patently explains these things to me countless times.
This is because, as my husband used to say, “Dianna, you haven’t got a logical bone in your body!” He’d say this after he’d become exasperated with his attempts to explain mathematical or computer operations. However, he admitted I had other good qualities that make up for it.
I am determined during these “Corona Days” to take advantage of my time at home and gain some needed cyber skills. God willing, I may at last develop some “logical bones.”
Dianna
Sharing the Fruit of Maturity
