Well, I’ve had pneumonia for a month, now, but have managed to avoid COVID-19. For that, I have to shout, “Hallelujah!” to God. COVID-19 would wipe me out right now. I’m still very weak and fatigue easily. Still fighting the tail end of the pneumonia (some in my lungs yet) with steroids, medication, and an inhaler. Soon, when I get my new BiPAP gear, I’ll be able to sleep a little better without reinfecting myself. It’s strange. I ended up with Group B Streptococcal Pneumonia. The CDC has no idea how people, especially adults, contract that. Oh, well. A plague comes, and I get a different plague. Figures. I just set up the Internet at my mom’s house, so I’m trying it out. If this posts properly, that means that I set up the WiFi right. Let’s hope, huh? It was easier than it should’ve been, which worries me somewhat, but there was a hitch or two in the process, so I’m not too worried after all. The Governor of my state just extended the Shelter-In-Place Directive for another 14 days. Another 14 days of loneliness, isolation, and, well, recovery for me. I need to climb, though! I’m fighting the madness, but I think the madness is winning right now! This is a truly trying time in the history of the world, and we don’t even have all the facts. Maybe that would help. Maybe it wouldn’t. I write down the numbers every day, like I used to when I was accounting for casualties in the Desert during the War. Cases. Recoveries. Deaths. It triggers my PTSD, but what doesn’t right now? I have to do something. I just don’t know what. I’ve been reading my Scriptures a lot and preparing for the worldwide fast tomorrow, Good Friday, in hopes that I will be able to fast and pray in a way that God will hear and respond to. As the Prophet said, “We need Heaven’s help.”
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.