The End of Days
For two years and three months I, like the rest of the rational world, have lived in some degree of dread about contracting the Coronavirus and it’s affliction, which has gone by the name of COVID-19. In the earliest days (early March, 2020), when I was on my way to London on an expert witness assignment, my trip got truncated halfway when I was in New York because my London counterpart said he was unwilling to gather due to COVID. I immediately secured a flight back to San Diego, but had an unexpected dinner opening in New York. Since I had seen my kids the night before, I had to choose someone with whom to dine. I chose our friends Gary and Oswaldo, but my next call was to my pal Bruce. As it turned out, it was at that dinner that Bruce contracted the first variant of COVID and was isolated for three weeks suffering from a very bad case, but one that did not lead to a respirator or hospitalization. Nonetheless, it was an early and stark realization about how serious this virus was…note that it was not yet even declared a Pandemic by WHO. So, for the last twenty-seven months I have been cautious without completely ceasing life as we know it. I more or less followed Kim’s lead and that of my friends, wearing masks religiously, washing my hands meticulously, social distancing and staying more in than out except when we did dine, in which case we were more out than in.
As safe as we thought we were on our hilltop, our next-door neighbor showed up dead of COVID during the first month of it. So much for that feeling of safety. I am one of the fortunate ones, I don’t have anyone close to me that has died of COVID, though many have been infected and a few even seriously infected with all the ICU and respirator paraphernalia. It has never once occurred to me that this is some massive international hoax or that it was a non-event that should be ignored as part of nature’s population culling process. I do have a few friends who have chosen to go anti-vax and have paid the price in reduced participation in activities they love. Strangely enough, I know no anti-vaxers who have paid the price with their lives, though one hears that those cases do exist. WHO tells us that 525 million people have contracted COVID so far. That is 6.7% of the world’s population. With 6.3 million deaths so far, that is only .08%. The U.S., with 1 Million of those deaths, has a .3% death rate of its population, or almost four times as great as the world at large. That seems strange given our relative level of development, but so be it for whatever reason.
As of last week, two of my three kids have gotten COVID and two of their three significant others have gotten the virus. Even Kim had gotten the virus. With most friends and family that have gotten infected, I have tended to play close attention to their level of symptoms and have never really been so critically concerned for them because they were all vaccinated and boosted. All the while, I was the exception and I used to kid around that it must have been because of my strong immune system from all those years growing up in the developing world and eating a lot of emerging markets dirt, as I would say. I should note that my brother-in-law Jeff is immune-compromised, has a number of risk factors (including at times, respiratory ones) and never lived in the developing world as I had…and he hasn’t gotten COVID either. I think that means my theory on immunity is full of shit.
This past week we have been on a motorcycle trip in Moab, Utah with about twenty other club members. Moab is always busy during the “shoulder” seasons and May is the ultimate “shoulder” season. The ski bums come south when the lifts close and the surfer dudes come northeast to avoid the RV season of the summer kids’ vacation. So, Main Street Moab looks a lot like Ninth Avenue or Hollywood Boulevard except with a lot more wicking fabric shirts and shorts. On the way up to Moab on Monday, we came up through numerous reservations of the Navajo Nation in both Arizona and Utah. On every reservation where we stopped for gas or water or whatever, we found a stricter than normal COVID-based masking requirement, and it was explained to me that the Native American population had suffered more from COVID than other sub-segments. This has both been a function of higher than normal rates of infection and even higher than normal death rates. That seems consistent with the history of these unfortunate people who have suffered more from the germs of western civilization than the rest of us. The week was filled with excellent rides to all the usual but great viewpoints along the Colorado River and in both the La Sal Mountains and in Canyonlands National Park.
By Wednesday night I was feeling the altitude and dryness of Moab and it was having its impact on my sinuses and throat. By Thursday night I became convinced that I had gotten my first head cold in three years or more. I had a fleeting thought about COVID, but I was still believing my own clippings that with the world unmasking all over the place (except the Navajo reservations), that was unlikely. We started our drive back to Las Vegas after having loaded the trailer with the motorcycles. Kim and I had Ann and Chris in the car for the ride. The temperature had surprisingly cooler by 30+ degrees turning a hot desert into a cold tundra. Somewhere along I-70, we suddenly got passed by Mark and Jeanne on their Harley Dresser and I could see their electric vests plugged in against the cold. We all noted how lucky we were to be in the car even if they could travel faster by bike than we could dragging a trailer. Somewhere near Richfield, Utah we stopped for gas and, sure enough, found Mark and Jeanne there. After Jeanne said she was so very cold, I asked her to join us in the car until we could gather at Beaver, Utah for lunch. The offer was quickly accepted though I warned her that I was sporting a bit of a cold. It’s worth noting that the cold didn’t seem to be bothering Kim, Ann or Chris. It didn’t take long to convince Jeanne that she should talk Mark into changing plans and coming with us to Lake Las Vegas for the night since she could then stay in the car for warmth. At lunch that was easily agreed and we carried on for the afternoon with only Mark having to deal with the cold, but being the big strong guy that he is, he said it was no problem.
By the time we got to Lake Las Vegas, my little cold had turned into a raging flu. After parking the rig, I could barely drag myself to the room, where Kim was ready to administer to me a COVID self-test she got from Jeanne. It was positive and my temperature was up to 100.3 at 5pm, so we went to a local Urgent Care and Ann and Chris came with us to get their own tests since concern was shifting from me to everyone in the car. The Urgent Care confirmed the diagnosis and gave all three of my passengers a negative bill of health, at least for then. I went to the hotel and collapsed into bed and spent a night getting up every few hours to pee and cough, but I did get some rest. We headed out early in the morning with masks on in the car and after 15 miles I gave the wheel to Kim. After another few hours I felt better and took back the wheel and have progressively felt better and better all day. Kim, Ann, Chris and even Jeanne and Mark are still testing negative and I seem to be recovering.
When I first got my diagnosis the thought of a severe case of COVID was hard to avoid despite the odds still being in my favor with my vaxing and boosting and general health, but a COVID death still looks you in the eye at least momentarily. It seems to have passed over this house and left me and us undamaged for the most part. I’m hoping the same will be true for my friends who I may have exposed. As best I can determine, the only thing I may have exposed myself to that the others hadn’t was my Navajo stops. We’ll never know and those people have already paid the price of their vulnerability so I prefer not to blame them. The end of days seems to be deferred for now.