The Sun Is Out--and Not ...

The sun is out today--and it's supposed to reach 50 or more. That's good. That's very good. Just having Old Sol out and working dispels not only clouds above but those within. (These overhead blues are the ones I like; the inward ones, not so much.)

We've just learned that there are seventeen COVID-19 cases in Hudson, but, of course, there could be more: absence of tests, people who are infected but don't know it yet, etc. So we are remaining cautious: going outside only once a day for a walk of a mile, avoiding other people like ... well, like the plague. This weekend we're scheduled for our weekly pick-up of groceries at Acme here in Hudson. And that's it.

For the rest of the time we're pretty much indoors, just the two of us. And we just continue doing the things we do ...

Our younger grandson, Carson, will turn eleven tomorrow, and it grieves us that for the first time in his life we will not be with him on his birthday. (We will Face Time.) We do have gifts--and a birthday story we've written for him--and son Steve will come pick those up on our front porch later today--if he thinks it's prudent to do so. (We've told him about the virus cases here in town.) His wife is a nurse--a very skilled one--so I'm positive he will do what's sensible.

I've got an Rx that will need a refill in about a week, so I'm going to work on an arrangement to have CVS deliver it rather than go to my usual pharmacy for a face-to-face pickup.

I'm also trying to get a cancer-treatment appointment rescheduled. Next Wednesday I'm supposed to go up to Seidman Cancer Center near Chagrin Falls for two things: (1) a blood draw--to check my PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen), (2) a full bone scan (to determine if and where and how fast the cancer is moving; it began in my prostate, is now in my bones).

Frankly, I'm afraid to go there--not because of any dark cancer news (I've already gotten a bellyful of that over the past fifteen years) but because, being in a vulnerable demographic (I'm 75 years old and have cancer), I don't want to encounter Dr. Coronavirus up there.

I've emailed Seidman, left phone messages for the past few days. Can't get through. Lots of people need to reschedule, and it must be a nightmare at Seidman--even more than it usually is. Yesterday, for example, I called in, left voice-mail (about 9 a.m.), and I got a return call a little before 5 telling me I needed ... to try another phone number. Which I did. And got an error message.

So that's where we are.

I am, of course, surpassingly grateful for many other things in our lives. We are, for the nonce, virus-free--as are our son and his family. We're in our house. We have food. We have books to read. We have shows to stream. We have friends who check on us. And on and on. But best of all?

We have each other.