Control: Coronavirus Revisited
I, Dalton Lewis, can’t believe it. Coronavirus is back. It’s back, and badder than ever before. This is an encore, a revisiting. We thought that we had it under control, and we were so horribly wrong. It rose like a phoenix from ashes to once again kill old people and fat people — and America has plenty of both. Oh, and everyone else, too — but that’s what they’re not telling you, isn’t it? The virus kills the weaker people, the people in old folk homes, and the people who are diabetic. The fat people — people like me — die of the virus. I don’t know if any healthy people will die from it. So that means that we have to sit at home doing nothing for more weeks at a time.
Sitting at home feels like a prison. Prison! We can’t go out except to get groceries and eat at drive-thrus. This is a prison for America, a punishment for years of partying, movies, concerts, and sporting events. We grew fat on entertainment and happiness, and now Covid-19 has shot us down and taken us and locked us away for imprisonment. How did we go so terribly wrong?
We reopened way too early. We should have spent more time in our metaphorical prison, sitting around reading and playing video games and not living our lives any more. I haven’t gotten Covid-19 yet, not to my knowledge, and I’m back to blogging and working on novels. I am taking walks, too — this is my third day of walking at least 30–50 minutes. That taxes me and makes me exhausted, but I feel strongly that I should continue to do it. It makes me feel like I have accomplished something. I need that.
I am 42, fat, unemployed, and unable to play my favorite hobby, Warhammer 40k, because of this nonsense. Why? Why do I hate staying in when I stay in so often of my own accord? Why didn’t I write a wonderful novel during the time of Covid-19? Why didn’t I try to save the planet and cure this thing? Oh, yeah, the technology isn’t there to just cure this overnight. It takes years to develop a cure.
Why? I remember that I coughed a few times a month or two ago. I then had to go to a hospital to get a blood test, and they asked me if I had coughed or had a fever.
“No,” I said.
Metformin gives me diarrhea, so I had that too.
“Have you had diarrhea?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
She took my temperature. “Come on in,” she said.
Why do that? Why lie? I didn’t want to be a bad person. I was just annoyed at the battery of tests that I would have if I told the truth. I knew that I didn’t have it, and sure enough, I didn’t have it. I never got a fever or the other symptoms.
This virus tests people. Should we go out? Should we self-isolate? Should we wear a mask? Should we protest? I know that we should protest, and that makes sense. The other things, though? Hanging out, not wearing masks? That seems stupid. People are opening up too early, taking too many chances, and it isn’t hurting them — it’s hurting their parents and grandparents and the people at risk — the fat and old people. I am one of them, and I wish for us a speedy and happy year, free of Covid-19.
Thanks, and take care, friends.
