15 March, 2021 2 2 Comments

A Year Later…..

March 15, 2021 By 2 Comments

Poignant memorials to those we lost to Covid-19 sprung up all over the nation.

Last week, we marked the one year anniversary of Covid-19.

It’s impossible to quantify what’s happened to our world since last March when the first cases of coronavirus emerged. So much has changed.

So much loss.

So much pain.

We watched the various tributes and news reports recounting the last year’s toll in stunned silence. We have lost more than 534,000 Americans. It’s just staggering.

Covid has touched all of us in so many ways.

We’ve experienced fear, grief, anxiety and frustration.

Then there’s the economic devastation.

The closed and damaged businesses, the lost jobs, the social loneliness and isolation. The damage to our children’s education’s and psyches.

It’s been overwhelming and enveloping.

And terribly, terribly sad.

We miss our old lives: friends, family, travel, shows, dining out, being with other people.

Like any cataclysmic event, the pandemic has focused our hearts and minds.

A year later we revere health care professionals, marvel at science and have gained deep respect for essential workers. We’re also grateful for the technology that has allowed us to stay somewhat connected.

Our world has changed, I believe forever.

Some of it’s good; I’m so glad to see nurses and teachers getting the props they deserve.

Public health is in the spotlight and hopefully will get the investment it so sorely needs.

I’m hoping that when we get back to normal we will have a deep appreciation for the little things, which by the way, are really the big things.

The year anniversary of the start of the pandemic marks seven months since I left the hospital after my bout with the virus.

And I can share that my life is not the same.

Everything feels more precious.

Every little thing.

And fragile too.

I used to think in years and decades, now I think in terms of moments. I’m not sure I’m saying that quite right but let’s just say that the simplest things are filling me up these days.

A lazy afternoon sitting outside with friends and reminiscing, a text from a childhood friend linking me to a great article, a short weekend away to see our son play hockey and meet a new girlfriend, time with family, listening to music and reading is suddenly more appealing to me than any exotic experience I can imagine.

And I don’t think I’m alone.

I believe COVID has focused many of us on what’s important and while we miss “normal” we also realize that normal was very hectic and maybe not as appealing as we thought it was.

But oh my has this damn virus extracted a price.

Having experienced Covid’s insidious power, I find myself very moved by the stories I read, see and hear.

The heroism of health care workers, the loss of special people —each soul indispensable.

The pain of long haulers, those still experiencing symptoms months after their infections. I am one of those people. It hasn’t been fun.

But we’re alive. So many aren’t. We can enjoy those special moments. And for that and a million other reasons I’m grateful.

Please stay safe. We have lots more to do and a better world to create.

 

One year stats:

29.2 million cases in the United States

534k deaths.

32,254 deaths in Florida

126k cases in Palm Beach County

2,546 deaths in Palm Beach County

120mm cases worldwide

2.65 million deaths worldwide

7 September, 2020 30 30 Comments

Life Lessons

September 7, 2020 By 30 Comments

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year is that good and bad can co-exist. When something’s bad, it’s not all bad, and vice versa.

Take for example my recent battle with Covid-19; I don’t have much good to say about the virus but the experience taught me several important lessons. Among them:
 
Nurses are remarkable people. Just remarkable. 
Doctors are incredible too. 
We are blessed to have a hospital as good as Bethesda serving our community. 
I have lots and lots of wonderful friends. 
My family is amazing. 
My wife is next level great. And I love her more than I can ever express. 
Prayer is powerful. Very powerful. 
Those are all good lessons to learn or —in my case— relearn. 
 By now, most of us have written off 2020 as a terrible year. 
The virus has robbed us of so much. We are a dangerously divided nation—angry and distrustful of one another. 
It’s sad and depressing. 
And yet..
Some have used the pandemic to reconnect and reinvent. We are talking about important issues and while painful, it’s good that we are having these conversations. 
We have managed to reorder our lives and in some cases our businesses and careers. 
Yes, small businesses are hurting. And it’s tragic and painful to see people’s dreams disintegrate. Yet, amidst the mess, we are reminded  of the importance of small business; not only to our economy but the very character of our communities…we will deeply mourn those who close their doors. And I hope we will appreciate and support local businesses forevermore.

Yes,  we have lost a staggering amount of people to this virulent virus. It pains me to see their loss minimized as we argue over statistics. Death should not be partisan. We need to figure out how to be a more empathetic nation. It starts on the local level.
Kindness matters.
As a recipient of a huge outpouring of love and prayers, I can personally attest to how important love can be. It saved me. And I often thought of people who suffer alone—without family and friends or community. How lonely that must be…
Yes, our children’s education and social lives have been disrupted but we have also seen many families grow closer. I’m hopeful our children will learn from this experience. They will overcome. 
So yes, life is a mixed bag. 
Good and bad can and do co-exist. 
And yes, it’s true that it is always darkest before the dawn which is why I’m confident better days are on the way. 
 
Update: After 39 days at Bethesda Hospital battling Covid-19, I’m extremely happy to be home. It has been almost three weeks since my homecoming and I’m spending my time in physical and occupational therapy. I have five sessions a week learning to breathe, walk, climb stairs while rebuilding my strength which was completely zapped by the disease and a violent case of double pneumonia. 
I’m still on oxygen but I’ve graduated from a walker and can now walk unassisted around the house. 
My breathing feels labored at times, as if there’s an obstruction somewhere deep. 
I’ve been reading a lot about COVID and the experiences of people who develop conditions such as glaucoma, depression or  lupus after battling the virus. 
To be honest, it’s scary. 
It turns out Covid is a vascular disease and one has to wonder what it does to your system. 
I’m doing my best to focus on the positive and taking it a day at a time. I’m drawing strength and resolve from the many kind people who are in my corner. I remain in awe of them and am deeply grateful for the abundance of love in my life. I’m a lucky man. 
31 August, 2020 53 53 Comments

Hello Again…

August 31, 2020 By 53 Comments

The virus millions are wrestling with.

Hello dear readers.

It’s good to be back. Or almost back. I’ve got a ways to go.
This blog was interrupted by Covid-19 and after 39 days in the hospital (mostly in ICU) I’m happy to be writing again.
It may take me awhile to get back to my two times a week pace but I’m working on it alongside my recovery.
During my hospital stay, I did my best to keep people posted on my condition via Facebook.
The outpouring of love, prayer and kindness was overwhelming. Not only did it help keep my spirits up during a brutal battle with a virus that can only be described as a beast, but it also gave me an opportunity to try and educate people on what it’s like to have a serious case of coronavirus.
My goal was to raise awareness and hopefully inspire people to take the virus seriously.
Many asked me to write a book about the experience and honestly I’m a little ambivalent about that prospect. I’m just not sure I want to relive the episode.
For me Covid, was a horrifying experience.
I came to the brink of losing my life. It was a lonely experience; painful, scary and scarring.
My lungs were battered by violent pneumonia, I lost my ability to walk and all of the strength was drained from my body.
Staring at the ceiling, alone, with a mask on my face to help me breathe, I thought of all I had left behind.
My wife, a few miles away but not allowed to visit. My children, just getting started in their lives and careers. My beloved father worried sick about me. My sister unable to choke back tears when she called. And my wonderful friends who I would miss terribly.
I have a good life and I didn’t want it to end.
I also thought about what  I still wanted to do. Before getting sick, I thought if I was fortunate, I might have 30 plus years left.
Now I wondered if I could last the night.
I felt like I was suffocating. Every breath was labored, my heart was working hard to keep up and I was overcome with sadness.
I had two episodes where I thought I might not survive.
The first happened as if it was a dream and it landed me in the ICU.
It was a surreal experience, I can’t quite describe it, but I felt that I was being urged by something to let go. It felt as if I was being given a choice but the emphasis was on letting go. It was palpable. I declined. And I decided to fight.
The second experience happened in the ICU.
I just felt like I was drowning. I also felt that somehow what was happening was all wrong. This was not supposed to be the end of my story. I was only 55. I never said goodbye to anyone. It seemed wrong, discordant.
I was determined to fight. I was determined to survive….
It’s a hard experience to revisit.
Still, there’s so much I can tell you about: what it’s like to be isolated for 39 days. The amazing health care workers who saved me. What it feels like physically to lose your ability to walk or even sit up. All that time spent alone left to think.
Maybe I’ll share more at some later date.
What I do want you to know is how important it is to stay safe.
Sadly, this pandemic has become politicized like so much else is these days at all levels of our life from Washington to our own little city hall.
So I’ve learned not to preach. Because once things become political it seems we become unable to change our beliefs. Regardless of the facts or the evidence.
But from the depths of my soul, I just want you to be safe, to take this virus seriously, to mind your health for symptoms and to protect your loved ones.
Not everyone will die from this hideous virus. But so many have. For me, they are not just a statistic—or number that increases day after mind numbing day. They are people. They have families and loved ones. I pray we have empathy as a society because we will need a whole lot of healing before this storm passes.
Not everyone will get as sick as I did. But the point is you can, it’s a possibility —so be safe.
This is all I can say right now as I am still processing my experience.
I have always been a grateful guy. I know I have been blessed in so many ways.  But this experience has made everything a little sweeter for me.
Driving west on Lake Ida Road after departing Bethesda Hospital the grass never seemed greener, the sky was never bluer and the entrance to my community never seemed so inviting.
I love my wife even more. My children too. I cherish my family and friends even more.
That part of this experience has been a gift.
The greatest I’ve ever been given.
2 April, 2020 2 2 Comments

Life. Interrupted.

April 2, 2020 By 2 Comments

Signs of the times.

 

So much has changed.

In the blink of an eye.
That’s what’s so astonishing.
How everything about our existence can change in a matter of days.
Now intellectually we all know that. We all know that life can change in an instant.
But emotionally I’m not sure how many of us could have truly grasped how a virus could upend our lives—upend our entire world.  Until now.
A month ago, corona was a beer and we didn’t really know terms like social distancing and Covid-19. We sure do now.
There is a twilight zone aspect to this pandemic.
I’m writing this sitting in my backyard on a beautiful night and it feels like I’m living in paradise.
But somewhere out there is this virus that can kill and it’s a sobering thought. There is a Russian Roulette aspect to this pandemic that makes it extra scary.
Some may have it and never know. Some will feel fine and crash. If they do, they will die alone.
I think of my older friends, my father and my friends parents and worry about their well-being.
But I also know that younger people are susceptible as well and that no one is truly safe.
I marvel at the bravery of our medical community, first responders and all those who work in essential jobs. They are at risk but they persist.
All around me are examples of quiet heroism.
People trying to support their favorite local businesses, CEOs and business owners trying to take care of their employees and teachers who are going above and beyond.
A friend of mine told me about what’s happening at Trinity Lutheran School up the street from where I live. Teachers giving up Spring Break so they can keep teaching the children that they are so devoted too.
It fills your heart.
Papas Tapas, one of my favorite restaurants, is feeding first responders and hospital workers at a time when their sales have to be hurting.
I see small business owners reaching out to the Small Business Administration for loans to keep their people employed.
In my dark moments, I feel like a prisoner unable to go anywhere or do anything. It’s no fun to see the stock market plummet and your life savings dwindle. It’s no fun to see business endeavors die and it’s frustrating because we can’t see the bottom yet and don’t really know when or how this will end.
But..in my more hopeful moments, I see all the good in the community and in the wider world. And I wonder, if perhaps, we will come out the other side of this better people.
We will ever take lunch with a friend for granted again?
We will ever decide to skip that party or that trip because we’re tired or there’s always next year?
I will be grateful when this ends. And I’m praying it is not as bad as the best case scenarios are predicting. But when it ends I’m hopeful that this experience leaves us appreciative of all things large and small.
The ability to see your friends.
The chance to have lunch with your dad.
The opportunity to go to a wedding or a birthday party or to visit your favorite watering hole.
We may be a long way from those days. I sure hope not. But it may be a ways off. But that day will come.
Until then, be careful, be safe and use this time to see what you can do to support the simple things we love about our community.