Coronavirus Chronicles

Have you ever seen the haunting movie “Meloncholia?”  It’s not a comedy.  But it draws you in and even though you want to turn it off and not watch, you cannot bring yourself to do what you know is the sane thing to do if you do not want nightmares.  The situation today is a lot like the beginning of that movie.  It is surreal.  You know what is happening.  You know what is going to happen and yet, you let down your guard and go about life, till you remember the big picture.

NYC is vibrant and noisy and crowded and exciting and alive!  The sidewalks seem to have a pulse.  And it is still busy and full and crowded.  But it is less noisy.  People are talking less and they are talking in hushed tones.  People are honking less and they are more patient and are indulging others the right of way.  My local stores are emptier.  But the shopkeepers are kinder.  I myself was the recipient of two acts of random kindness and witnessed a third all within a short time of one another.

It reminds me of the time I lived through the 1973 war in Israel.  It feels like wartime and indeed, we are, or should be, at war with coronavirus.  We have become a DIY society. We DIY at the cash register, at checkouts, at the gas pumps.  When we listen to the commercials on TV that recommend all kinds of medicines for conditions we may not have know we have, and then call our doctor to discuss these wonder drugs, we are DIY.

So, I have self-diagnosed.  I am suffering from melancholia based upon the gut reaction I had listening to Trump’s insane ramblings at the CDC today.  I need xanax to get through. And I will DIY by calling Teladoc because I am truly worried about the fact that we do not have enough testing kits nor beds nor respirators. I will DIY and tell a doc that he needs to write me a prescription.

To be

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