Tootsie Rolls in the Kitty Litter!
Yesterday I left our no-risk bubble to get treated for a foot flare up that had me hopping around the house in pain. When I made the appointment I told Dr. Philomena that I was observing risk-reducing practices such as masking and avoiding shared air and hoped she would too.
She assured me that was the case. During the treatment she and I both wore masks and tried to stay apart from each other. It was not perfect, and it was a little scary for me to be indoors with another person from outside my pod for the first time in months, but I needed the care, and I felt reassured by the wide open window, the masks, and the general intention, if not perfect execution, to stay apart.
After she adjusted my foot, we went outside to the parking area and I got further away from her, still wearing my mask. Dr. Philomena said to me, “So do you really believe in the masks thing?”
I was surprised at the phrasing of the question, like do I “believe” in the tooth fairy. I didn’t realize masks were a “belief” issue. I mean they’re inconvenient and uncomfortable, but way less uncomfortable than a long, slow COVID-19 death.
“Well, yeah,” I said, like is mask-wearing even a question?
“I don’t know,” she said, this woman standing there in a fancy leopard print mask. “I find it very hard to breathe if I wear it for a long time.”
“Well, what are you doing that makes you wear it for a long time?”
“You know, shopping, or, just being out, I don’t know.”
“Hmm,” I said, thinking of the meme, “If you don’t like mask you’ll hate the ventilator.” But I didn’t say that.
I said, “Well I think it’s pretty much settled that masks save lives so I’m gonna do that,” getting into my car.
“I just don’t think it’s healthy breathing all that carbon dioxide,” she continued, this normal-looking woman in slacks and a sweater set turning into an alien grasshopper giant green gargoyle right before my eyes. Like I’d just gone through the looking glass, taken some potion that had landed me in an alternate universe where down was up and up was down.
“Stay cool,” I said to myself. “Do not engage.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “Gee I’m running late look at the time! Thank you so much for the foot help!!!” And I started the engine.
“I take these very pure supplements ...” She called to me through my closed car window.
“That’s wonderful!” I sang through the closed window and air-kissed her as I sped away back to my bubble.
I got home. Mike said, “How was your foot treatment?”
“Ok,” I said. “A little weird. At the end she tried to engage me in debate about the pros and cons of wearing masks.”
“Oh honey I’m so sorry.”
“Ya I feel weird. She said everyone knows breathing in your own exhalation is unhealthy. I didn’t know that. Is that even a thing? Aren’t droplets bigger than oxygen? What’s happening? My dad’s probably spent decades in a mask over his lifetime as a surgeon. Should I be worried? He seems fine.”
“Well, honey, I think it’s just like some people might say that what’s in the kitty litter box is tootsie rolls, and some people might believe them, but it doesn’t make it so.”
“Good one, Dad!” said Ax, looking up from his LEGO for the first time since my return home.
Mike knows that if we want Ax’s attention mentioning poop, farts, peep, or butts is a great way to do it.
“Ya it’s not candy in there!” said Ax with glee.
“Well, but what if all your friends told you it was candy?”
“It would be poop.” Ax said, certain.
“So there you go,” said Mike.
“Ok, got it:” I said. “Those aren’t Tootsie Rolls in the kitty litter box, and masks are good. That’s what I thought but it’s good to double-check.” Sheesh. I’m gonna keep going.
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