So 2020 was, of course, an annus horibilis, and we thought the following year just HAD to be better. Then 2021 came in, and for my family at least, said "Hold my beer." We ended up with a health crisis truly out of left field.
Thankfully, it seems the crisis has passed, and our beloved member is well on the way to recovery -- yesterday she came home after 17 days in the hospital and rehab. And on the way out, something happened that might be serendipity, might be the Big Man, but was wonderful.
Throughout the past weeks, I've been, well, the only word is obsessed, about getting a jab for those of us in the family of a certain age. The problem is, we're all just below the authorized age of 65 for the first phase of vaccines.
My 96 year old suegra, floating along in her final days of dementia, got a jab. Those of us younger, still with responsibilities to others, are back on the line. I get the logic, of course -- the older you are, the more likely the plague is to kill you. But when you're 96??? Whatever.
I got my jab through shucking and jiving. Wifey didn't get hers, and through a series of unfortunate events, missed out on appointments. Scott, my nephew of another brother, has started a pro bono side hustle: he has figured out how to navigate the absurd maze of tech to get appointments for elderly people. He succeeded in getting jabs for his grandmother and mother. He got several appointments for Wifey. Alas -- she couldn't make them.
I nearly had Wifey jabbed, but was thwarted by a hospital administrator. I got mean with him. I got ugly. All of the worst of me came out and I directed it at this man -- one of Dr. Barry's colleagues. Although I apologized to him, the fellow, who I'll call David, since that's his name, worried I was unhinged. He was probably correct.
Long story short, or at least shorter, yesterday Wifey and I were delayed somewhere, and as a result of that delay, ran into David. I had written him a long, heartfelt email, saying how sorry I was for my asshole behavior. Well, David literally grabbed us, and brought Wifey to the front of a jab line -- she got her first dose of the Pfizer vaccine, and on the list for the second on February 22.
I got emotional. I hugged David -- hard. Ultimately, according to Wifey, I hugged him three times. Someone I thought was an enemy had turned out to be a true mentsch -- one who did us a tremendous favor.
Dr. Barry had talked me off the Covid ledge -- telling me with all the precautions we took, we'd be fine. But still, there was an undercurrent of anxiety -- it's my duty to protect my family, and with a vaccine out there that likely fends off the dreaded corona, until I got it for Wifey, well, the anxiety would remain. Yesterday, that demon is, at least for now, halfway slain.
So a man I had truly subjected to venom is now a friend. I guess life can be that way -- if you keep an open mind, and have the ability to recognize when you act like a total turd. I acted like a total turd.
And, on a deeper level, my sage and loving friends Eric, Barry, and Kenny, got our family through the crisis, and on the road to true recovery. I wrote them that I guess we could have gotten through this without them, but I'm not sure how.
I'm truly amazed by people who, contrary to the great Barbra song, DON'T need people. I've never been one of those. And I know I am indeed among the luckiest people in the world.
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