It–whatever It is–can wait.


I am living with advanced heart failure. Yeah, yeah, yeah some of you are like “but I thought you were healing;” well, a test the other week shows regression. An additional and more extensive scan the week after next will refute or confirm.

Whether advanced or (hopefully) not I live with heart failure. And my heart failed because an autoimmune disease attacked my heart.
So I’m also immuno-compromised which means I take a drug to calm my overzealous immune system. Last year this time the medicine took out my mid-back length dreadlocs. It reduced my immune warriors too–yay, stop attacking my heart; boo–now there are too few of y’all to keep flus and stuff at bay.

If you’re keeping score, that means I have two of the four or so vulnerabilities that make COVID-19 especially lethal.

If you know me, you know these things about my health. If you care about me (and people like me) maybe you could consider that during the current coronapocalypse every time you go out on your nonessential outings talking about how serious the current situation is not (and acting accordingly) you put my vulnerable body (and other vulnerable bodies like mine) a little closer to serious harm. It is serious for me.
Here’s how: if you infect or get infected while enjoying one of your little outings–just wanna go RedRobinHooding, can’t miss that workout, feel like grabbing a soda– you will tax the health system I’m already desperately relying on to survive. And thus make it harder for me to survive.
Maybe your soda is that important; perhaps the visit or brunch can’t wait. What do I know?
Well I know this: I have two important medical appointments the week after next. I need to go. I need to get things straight. I need to heal. Please don’t stand in my way.
See, if you and your gallivanting ilk are in clinic begging for a test–of which we have too few–or acquiring and/or carrying the virus–you know you can carry it without symptoms–passing it around on your outings like a game of telephone guess what happens to me? My care is compromised while healthcare workers attend to you and those you infect and in the meantime my life hangs in the balance.
In the coming week I anticipate shit’s about to get really real. Hell, doesn’t it already feel pretty dire with the travel restrictions and near universal closure of whole institutions from government offices to educational facilities? Rhetorical question.
Despite the distancing and quarantine protocols in place and that may be potentially imposed I’m still gonna need to be able to go get the care I need.
I don’t know why this is hard to understand, but several conversations both live and virtual confirm that apparently it is rocket science.
I’ve never felt more invisible in my life. And the worst part is that it comes from people who pretend to, or maybe they thought they could, see me.
I hate seeing myself as “sick,” but I am not in denial either. Hate putting my whole ass business on front street like this. But here we are.  Hoping this rant-adjacent sort of PSA-ish plea might make some of these hypotheticals tangible or something close.
Folks, please stay in the house. Take a walk; sit on your porch if you need air. Stay. Away. From. People. Before you’re forced to (see Italy if you don’t think that martial law can happen). So it can pass and we can return to normalcy sooner than later. So people like me have a fighting chance in this warzone.
It –whatever It is–can wait.

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