Category: Coronavirus Posts

Grocery Games

It’s a cold, gray, dreary day and John and I are in week two of quarantine. So I’ve come up with a couple of grocery games to pass the time.

The first game is “Take Stock of the Pantry”. With the procurement of groceries becoming hit-and-miss, it’s time to make good use of what’s already in the pantry. How old is the stuff lurking in there, anyway?

Here’s my entry for the oldest pantry item:

Does that say 2009? Yep, I’m thinking so. That’s over a decade ago! This baby went from Albuquerque to California and back. It’s probably been moved half a dozen times at least.

Narcisco to El Padro to Hampton, then possibly a week in Homesteads before going on to Calle la Paz, then to either Vista del Prado or back to Homesteads, then finally to Lawrence. I know that sentence made no sense – I was counting moves. This fine can of salmon resided in 6-7 houses.

We don’t eat canned salmon (obviously). I don’t remember buying it all those years ago. I was probably trying to buy tuna and goofed. At any rate, it was a long, long time ago. I can guarantee there’s no COVID-19 clinging to that can of salmon.

The second fun game I’ve been playing all week is “Online Grocery Checkout”. There are a variety of home delivery options available for grocery delivery, but the systems are becoming overwhelmed by the all the new customers. The delivery workers are overworked and underpaid and are talking about striking.

I’m trying to tip well, and I’ve also got gift cards taped to my door, but as a whole I think delivery services are being undervalued by consumers as well as by the companies in the delivery service.

I keep two different online grocery carts full – Whole Foods delivered by Amazon, and Sprouts delivered by Instacart. I periodically attempt to checkout. Invariably, there are no delivery time slots available to select. Except every once in a while there suddenly is a delivery slot available! Score! I quickly check out, not even remembering what might be in my cart. Hopefully not canned salmon.

Then groceries magically show up at my door; bags full of items that closely resemble the items I had at one point put in my online cart. I think the shoppers are doing a darn good job. It’s really hard to buy items that you aren’t familiar with. It takes forever trying to puzzle it out.

For example, do you have any idea how many different kinds of Rice Dream Rice Milk there are? There’s vanilla classic, and vanilla enriched, and original classic organic, and original enriched organic, and there’s original enriched organic unsweetened, and original enriched organic sprouted rice unsweetened, all in different sizes…there’s probably couple of dozen different variations at least, no seriously, it’s crazy. These are just a few of the options.

And that’s just rice milk. They also make coconut milk and almond milk with the same packaging, and presumably also all with various classic or enriched and/or unsweetened and/or organic options. It’s endless!

And someone making not nearly enough money is having to stand there in the virus-infested grocery store and figure it all out. And text their customer asking permission to make substitutions. And wait for a reply and then go back to that section after they get a reply. Or they don’t get a reply and they just have to make their best guess. Then they’ll have an irate customer, and then I don’t know what happens but I’m sure it’s not good.

I heard (I could be wrong, but I heard) that they are only making about $7-something per order, and it can take an hour and a half to shop and deliver. That is not enough money for all that work. So tip your help generously! And be understanding if it’s not as good as if you had gone to the store yourself.

Of course someone else’s shopping job won’t be perfect. But at least they aren’t bringing you canned salmon destined to be moved back and forth across the country for the next decade!

Perspectives from an ER Doctor: Still lacking PPE

As most of you know, my sister Emily is an emergency room doctor. I’ve asked her to keep me updated regarding the challenges at work, and I’m converting her messages into a series of blog posts. This is the second post in the series.

She says:

Our lack of PPE [personal protective equipment] is still shocking me. Previously we would use our N95 masks once and then dispose of them. We are now being required to reuse them for five shifts in a row. We are then storing them in a paper bag with the hopes that if we wait 10 days or so, any virus will be non-viable and we can potentially reuse them again.

They gave us new gowns today. I’m not quite sure what the purpose of them is because they are completely permeable. One of my coworkers misted some cleaning spray on his arm while wearing the gown and it did nothing to block the liquid. I’m pretty sure it’s only so patients think that we are using PPE.

A song for you

This is excellent, for anyone in the middle generations who grew up listening to Queen and have a love-hate relationship with the Bohemian Rhapsody. (Thanks to Laura for sending it.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deYEoY6D-uI

I’m still trying to transfer my cancer care to Albuquerque

My cancer surgery in Boston was on February 28. We were supposed to get the all-important pathology report by March 9, but because of the coronavirus nothing is working smoothly anymore. We eventually got a verbal report on March 13, and the actual digital copy of the report on March 16. I immediately, within 5 minutes of getting it, emailed my records to my primary care doctor in Albuquerque requesting a referral to an oncologist.

Nothing happened. A few days later we got concerned and started calling every doctor we knew in Albuquerque – John’s primary care doctor, the guy who did my colonoscopy, etc., and we also directly called one of the main cancer centers. Finally, just this Monday (March 23), a nurse from the cancer center calls us and asks for our records, which I sent within 5 minutes of getting off the call. She told us that the doctor would call yesterday, so we monitored my cell phone the whole day. No call.

Then this morning the cancer center called again, and the medical assistant calling thought she had my pathology report – but all she had was the pathology report from the colonoscopy back in January, which apparently the colonoscopy doctor had sent in. She did not have the one from my surgery – she didn’t even know I had surgery! I had sent all the records, but apparently the nurse from Monday hadn’t actually managed to get them into my file or to the doctor.

So 5 minutes after that call, I sent the medical assistant my records. Now, supposedly, a doctor is going to call me tomorrow. We shall see. I’ve been frantically sending my records to everyone who is willing to give me an email. Please just give my records to a doctor – any doctor!

It looks like I’m being assigned to a doctor I actually saw once before. When I first got a low white blood cell count, I was sent to see a hematologist at the cancer center. At the time, we thought I might have lupus, which runs in the family. But then I had the colonoscopy and you know the story. Anyway, turns out the hematologist is also an oncologist. She doesn’t specialize in my exact type of cancer, but I think prescribing chemo is pretty straight forward. Right now I will take whatever doctor I can get.

Meanwhile, because of the coronavirus, I am officially in 2-week quarantine because I was traveling from out of state, and only got home on Saturday. So they won’t schedule an office visit, which is fine with me, I don’t want to go in anyway. Except I need chemo.

Here’s my hope – what I would really love to have happen is the doctor prescribe chemo in pill form. Usually chemo is done intravenously via an IV or a port. But sometimes it can be administered in pill form. If someone would just send me chemo pills, I would be set! I don’t even know if that’s an option for my type of cancer. But I would very much like to stay home and not be going in for a port and/or IVs.

Of course I’m still going to have all the horrible side effects of chemo either way. Chemo is a poison – it targets fast-growing cells. So it kills cancer cells, and unfortunately also kills other normal, needed, fast-growing cells in the body. So the pills wouldn’t be any less miserable, but at least I could be miserable at home.

Our health care workers

I know you’ve already all seen too many coronavirus articles and don’t need me posting another. But I’m just so worried about my sister and her family. This is a good but scary article written by an ER doctor just like Emily.

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/03/were-failing-doctors/608662/

Perspectives from an ER Doctor: No PPE

As most of you know, my sister Emily is an emergency room doctor. I’ve asked her to keep me updated regarding the challenges at work, and I’m going to convert her messages into a series of blog posts.

Emily has been home on maternity leave, with her beautiful new baby girl. She starts back to work today. In preparation, she texted a coworker yesterday to ask what to expect.

Her coworker said, “snag a face shield if you can find one and keep it in your bag.”

A face shield is a piece of plastic that goes around your face. (Google image)

Emily doesn’t have a face shield. She says if she can’t find one, she might be able to find a pair of goggles big enough to go over her glasses. She says a droplet of virus into the eyes is the same as into the nose or mouth.

So our brother, who is a scientist with a small research lab, rushed to overnight ship a pair of lab googles to her.

Emily says N95 respirator masks are so rare that they’re only allowed to use them if they are intubating (an invasive procedure that throws aerosols everywhere). Regular masks are being rationed and reused.

She says “Honestly just wish I got infected now, get over it, and can move on.”

That made me cry. I wish there was something we could do.

Coronavirus warning symptom

Here’s the first new and potentially useful information I’ve come across about the coronavirus for awhile. (We are all very tired of hearing about hand washing and staying 6′ apart).

The NY Times reports that a common symptom of the virus is a significant loss of sense of smell and taste (anosmia). Loss of taste and smell is an indication that a person who otherwise seems healthy is in fact carrying the virus and may be spreading it to others. Doctors are recommending testing and isolation for people who lose their ability to smell and taste, even if they have no other symptoms.

They are also recommending that doctors not perform nonessential sinus endoscopy procedures on anyone, because the virus replicates in the nose and the throat and an exam can prompt coughs or sneezes that expose the doctor to a high level of virus.

The problem may not be your sinuses – the problem might be the coronavirus. Apparently for some people with a mild case of the coronavirus, this might be the only symptom that they get. So it’s important to know that if you feel fine, but suddenly can’t smell things as well as usual, you are probably contagious and should be self-isolating.

I would paste the link, but for some reason it’s not embedding correctly in my blog. The article title is “Lost Sense of Smell May Be Peculiar Clue to Coronavirus Infection” and it was published March 22 on NYTimes.com.

Grateful for Delivery Drivers

Delivery drivers are really stressed and overworked right now. And I am very grateful for anything brought to my door because I can’t go out. Even if there was no coronavirus, I can’t go out because my slow recovery from surgery is keeping me home. So I was trying to think of how I could thank them or better yet, tip them.

This is what I posted on my front door. If any of you know Spanish, please feel free to correct mine and I’ll redo the sign. I just used google translate, so who knows what my front door actually says!

The card I have taped to the sign is an Amazon gift card. I hope it’s clear to them what it is and that they can take it.

It’s a “print at home” gift card. I bought 10 of them for starters, and I’m going to put them out one at a time. So the only trick is noticing when one is gone so I can replace it before the next driver arrives with the next package.

With the print-at-home gift cards, you can designate whatever amount you want them to be worth. They are a file that you download, and each one has a unique code inside that can only be used once. I had to be careful to only print each one once. Then they just fold up into a card shape, with the unique code and instructions on the inside.

Here’s the link to buy them. https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B07P76HM3B/ref=s9_acss_bw_cg_gclptcg_2b1_w?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=merchandised-search-4&pf_rd_r=NG3JX2XFACY84Z0C82D1&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=6b61ab65-7e92-43b7-b085-459660c9cd18&pf_rd_i=2238192011

Here’s what my order looked like:

Then I got an email with a link:

And this is what I got when I clicked on the link in the email:

Then I downloaded them one at a time, and printed and folded each one.

I just put the first one out today, so I don’t know if it will work or not. The delivery drivers are in such a rush, they may not notice. If no one takes it, I may have to make another sign that says, “You can have this gift card! Please take it! Yes, it’s for you!”

Advice from your future self

When I work with my clients I sometimes have them imagine their future self, and what their future self would say to them right now.

Here’s a short video of some Italians imagining what they wished their future selves had told them 10 days ago – and they’re saying it now for our sakes. Because we are about 10 days behind them…

https://www.theatlantic.com/video/index/608113/italy-coronavirus/

What is happening to 2020?

Life is rapidly getting surreal. It was bad enough to be abruptly diagnosed with cancer. Even though I’ve already had surgery, I’m still not fully getting it. I have cancer? Cancer is something that happens to other people; your neighbor’s mom or your friend’s coworker’s spouse. But me? How is that possible? Cancer. Surgery. Chemo.

And now this pandemic. People are losing their jobs. People are running out of money. Food and supplies are becoming hard to obtain. Travel is shutting down. Businesses are closing. The entire education and service sectors are hobbled. The impacts are everywhere. The hospitals will soon be overwhelmed.

This morning I asked John if he could please go buy us eggs and cheese today. He said, “What kind of cheese?” I said, “Just something. Anything you can find.” He said, “It’s that bad?” Yes, it’s that bad. I didn’t even ask for bread because I don’t want him to spend all day on a wild goose chase.

(Picture from Laura)

I wonder what’s with that one remaining, beautiful-looking organic whole grain loaf? Is something wrong with it? Or were people just being polite; trained since childhood to not take the very last one?

It’s ridiculously ironic for me, because this was supposed to be the year that my life was going to be easier. My life has generally been somewhat difficult. Never horrendous. But my childhood was a challenge and then I was a single mom juggling work and school. Then the kids grew older and I juggled two careers – environmental science and life coaching. Plus multiple divorces and dozens of moves and job changes. And migraines; lots and lots of migraines.

It was only the last couple of years things started getting easier. First my migraines improved a couple of years ago. Then I quit my job last year. We were still busy at first – moving and getting the old house remodeled and sold and the new one set up.

But for the first time in my life, I was looking forward to having nothing I actually had to do. I planned to keep working part-time with a few clients, but otherwise 2020 loomed open, expansive, inviting. I started planning trips to see everyone. Southern California to see my good friend, and northern California to see my daughter in February, Florida with my sister in March, Texas to see my in-laws in March, then John’s been wanting to go to Alaska and I figured also camping in Idaho with my son this summer…I had all these wonderful plans.

It was to be my first year of being semi-mostly-retired. I almost feel, in some weird superstitious way, like I brought this all onto myself. My hubris? My selfishness? My shallowness? My optimism? …of planning a year of nothing but fun. Not that I actually think it’s my fault.

But it can’t just be crazy coincidence, can it, God? Right? Am I right? God, yeah, I’m talking to you. It’s your ass I’m talking to. The first year of my life that I’m not either in school or getting married or having kids or getting divorced, going back to school, looking for jobs, moving, getting married (again) starting a business, getting divorced (again), going back to school (again), looking for more jobs (again), getting married (again) moving (again), buying houses, selling houses, remodeling houses, looking for more jobs, moving for the 26th time (no exaggeration).

The first year in my life that I’ve had simply nothing difficult planned except a few fun trips…and now STAGE 3 CANCER and WORLD PANDEMIC?! Seriously? Not one but both? At the same time?! Are you fucking kidding me?