Covid | Page 2 | Your Delray Boca

This park in Detroit honors those lost to Covid-19.

“Breath is life. When the stakes are high and the challenge is hard, I come to my foundation for answers — breath.” Circus Performer LadyBeast.

I stumbled on this quote while reading a blog about Creative Mornings and it hit me.

Breath is our foundation. We stop breathing and we cease to exist.

I’ve been conscious of breathing for most of my life because I have asthma. So sometimes breathing can be difficult.

Every now and then, especially when I’m nervous, I have found myself short of breath. But I have never felt endangered. My asthma was mild. I knew I would feel better quickly.

But my recent bout with Coronavirus changed my relationship with breathing.

At the height of my illness, I struggled with every breath. My lungs hurt and they weren’t working very well.

Laying on my back, attached to leads to monitor my heart, a port in my arm and a mask strapped tight over my face I felt like I was drowning.

I was working hard to get air and it felt as if the virus was suffocating me. Every breath was accompanied by a painful sharpness. It’s hard to explain but when I inhaled I felt a cutting type pain.

While I was frightened and afraid to sleep because I didn’t think I’d wake up, I was also keenly aware that I had to fight.

I couldn’t really speak, but I wanted to yell out and say “no, I’m not letting go.”

My mind raced from thought to thought.

“No, I won’t let this be the end” and then “I can’t believe this is the end. I’m only 55. I have a wife and kids and a career and friends. I never said goodbye and I have so much more I want to do.”

I thought of my late mother and my beloved grandparents. I asked them for help. I prayed for G-d’s mercy and I wondered if I was in some sort of dream.

My mind kept coming back to my mother. She passed at age 59 and missed so much. Now here I was four years younger. I would miss seeing my kids get married, I would miss having grandkids and I would lose all the things I wanted to do once I retired. While tempted to give in and let go, I just refused.

Breathe. Just breathe. Keep breathing.

And I did.

I’m a little over two months into my Covid odyssey and here’s where I stand (or mostly sit).

I am still on three liters of oxygen. I can go off for short periods of time, but when I dip below 92 on my pulse oximeter (always by my side) I have to go back to the O2 hose—you don’t want to starve your brain of oxygen.

For the most part my breathing is ok. But sometimes I feel like there’s something stuck deep in my chest. And I still lack my wind.

My body is sore from what I guess is the therapy I’m doing after 39 days in a hospital bed.

But I also have a stabbing pain in my left thigh. I’ve been applying heat to the leg which also feels numb at times.

The stabbing wakes me some nights.

My neck is also stiff and my tailbone is sore which means that I need to sit on a lot of cushions. My friend Scott bought me a “donut” and I literally can’t live without it.

Best. Gift. Ever.

I’m not really sure if some of my soreness is the residual impact of the virus or the result of being in that hospital bed.

My sleep has been inconsistent, but I am not fatigued like so many Covid patients report.

I am, however, experiencing a fair amount of anxiety. There are some mornings when I feel very jittery. It fades as the day moves forward but I also experience pangs of fear and just overall dread that seems to come at me in waves.

When I get hit with the wave, I try to shift my mind to a positive thought. I’m so lucky that I can call friends or read messages and cards to lift my spirits.

I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of support and love I have received from family and friends. I jokingly told my wife that I feel that I attended my funeral without having to pass.

But boy did I come close and that experience is both real and surreal.

To be honest, I’m still kind of processing the whole experience.

As a news junkie, I’ve always paid attention to what’s happening in the world. But these days, stories about Covid truly affect me on a different level.

The 200,000 plus deaths in America is not just a grim statistic to me; it’s a shockingly real kick in the teeth because I’ve now seen the enormous toll this virus has enacted on our country and on the families left to grieve.

I was one of the lucky ones.

So I wonder: why I was spared? And I wonder what I should be doing now that I’ve been given a a second chance. I realize how fragile life is; how easy it could have been to simply stop breathing.

The last few months feels like a dream to me.

I went to get a test at Bethesda Hospital and came home 39 days later.

In between, I wore masks to breathe, had morphine to dull the pain (it barely took the edge off) and struggled to even sit up. I had odd dreams, painful spasms and felt dizzy and disoriented at times. For a few weeks, my eyes burned and there were times when I woke up and wasn’t quite sure where I was. Sometimes things seemed to move in the room. I would see the TV on the ceiling but then realized it hadn’t moved. I was just confused.

I heard screams from a nearby room and thought to myself someone has it worse than me and I prayed they would find relief.

Since coming home I’ve had extensive therapy and it’s helping.

I am slowly getting my strength and stamina back. I came home with a walker and a hospital bed. Both are gone.

I can climb a flight of stairs but I lose my breath and need a few minutes to recover. But it’s progress.

I am so grateful.

When I wake up I am reminded how fortunate I am to be alive.

I’m more appreciative of my friends, love my wife even more (she’s been my rock), cherish my kids and family and can’t wait to get back to what life has to offer.

I write these words to raise awareness and to urge people to be vigilant and safe.

Last week, we attended a virtual fundraiser to raise money for Bethesda Hospital’s Covid efforts. I was happy to see a brief video of my departure from the hospital as part of the event. The health care heroes that were highlighted that night saved my life and the life of many others. When I left Bethesda, I promised them I would try and spread the word.

And that’s what I plan to do.

I am grateful I have the opportunity to do so.

I’m here because of prayers and the talents of amazing medical professionals. We are blessed to have these people in our community.

Thanks for reading.

Our beach is a prized asset. Protecting it must be based on science not politics.

“ Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,

Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

― Dr. Seuss, The Lorax

There’s a lot happening in Delray Beach these days.

Water quality issues, controversy over sea grapes, budget shortfalls, lawsuits and an ill timed raise for city commissioners.

As mom used to say: Oy!

When you sit alone in a hospital room for six weeks fighting Covid, you have a lot of time to think. You wrestle with issues large and small as the hours and days tick away.

Weighed against issues such as life and death, the dysfunction at Delray City Hall doesn’t mean a whole lot. This too shall pass as they say, although, to be honest, the nonsense has lasted a very long time and has done untold damage to our beloved city.

So while “sea grape gate” and “raise gate” doesn’t rise to the level of dealing with a pandemic, an economic crisis or racial strife, if you love your town —as I do —the state of affairs should alarm you.

We have strayed far, far away from the days when Florida Trend magazine put Delray on its cover with the headline: Florida’s Best Run Town.

There was a time when Delray Beach was not only well run but it was well led too.

We were aspirational and visionary. There was a sense of possibility, we knew if we put our minds to it, we could do anything.

You could feel the civic pride and the confidence that goes with it. It was palpable and that confidence was a key to our success.

Pick your issue and there was a plan and more important action being taken to make things better.

Crime problems fueled by drug sales were met by groundbreaking efforts in community policing. Community leaders, foundation executives and academics came from far and wide to study Delray’s police department and its efforts to connect to the community.

When city leaders decided to tackle educational issues they adopted an ambitious plan that called for new facilities, magnet programs, summer enrichment activities and partnerships to try and raise the quality of education in our community.

And guess what? It got done.

S.D. Spady Elementary was rebuilt and added an award winning Montessori magnet, Village Academy was built, a brand new high school with career academies was also built and partnerships with stellar non-profits such as the Achievement Center for Children and Families were created to launch initiatives to help the most vulnerable children in our community.

The CRA, ridiculously maligned by people who either don’t know or should know better, revitalized a once moribund downtown and also invested tens of millions of dollars into distressed neighborhoods.

And the list goes on.

Old School Square, Pineapple Grove, the Arts Garage, signature events, world class tennis, successful beach renourishment efforts, innovative housing initiatives such as the Community Land Trust and more.

Now this is not to say that everything was perfect.

Our schools still have a long way to go, our neighborhoods still need investment, reclaimed water was a great idea but there’s obvious managerial and operational issues that need to be addressed and like the rest of America we struggle and always have struggled with inequality and racial division.

But the difference I see is that back in the day there was a recognition of our deficiencies and a resolve to get after it.

There was a hunger to solve problems, involve the community and innovate. There was a willingness to experiment and yes a willingness to fail.

Delray’s culture was one of “civic entrepreneurship” which is the opposite of a “gotcha” culture in which fear reigns and everyone is afraid to proffer an idea lest they get ripped by trolls on social media or drummed out of town by toxic politics.

So while I spent 98 percent of my recent Covid experience trying to stay alive and pondering how much I loved my family and friends I spent two percent of my time thinking about the town where I live.

Why?

Because I love my city.

I love it enough to criticize it because I want to see it do better.

I cringe when I see story after story of turnover and dysfunction. Others do too. I hear from many of you who can’t believe what they are seeing.

They don’t relish or take joy in the nonsense. They worry because they too love their town.

They want to see an effective and efficient city government that uses their tax dollars wisely.

They want to see a thriving local economy and opportunities created for those who live here or may want to live here.

They want a safe town and to see their elected officials work collaboratively.

It’s OK to debate passionately but once the vote is called they want to see their leaders move on and not hold grudges. Washington take note. People can’t stand Congress because the Dems and Republicans can’t work together.

Therefore, problems never get solved and opportunities are hard to seize.

Same thing right here in little old Delray.

So yes, I spent some time thinking about Delray. When you live in a place, own a home, have a business, raised a family here and dedicated years of your life to a town you can’t help but care. A lot.

It’s going to be a long walk home as the song says. Because we’ve strayed far from the ideals that created a wonderful little city.

We have to learn to work together again.

We have to stop labeling, dividing and sowing fear.

We have to want to do better and to be better.

Not every elected official is on the take. Not every developer is here to pillage the village. Not every business is a special interest with only profits in mind.

There’s talent at city hall, but I’m not sure there’s a culture here that encourages staff to be creative or to even do their jobs effectively. For goodness sakes, let them loose to create value.

Last week, I saw the Beach Property Owners unfairly maligned for wanting to protect the dunes at the beach.

Friends, the Beach Property Owners Association has been a force for good in this town for a long, long time.

If they differ with others on the height of sea grapes we ought to listen and ask why instead of assuming that they selfishly want a better view and that they are willing to risk the beach to get it.

I know the leaders of that association. They love Delray, they are not selfish.

The ‘Delray way’ as we once called it, would be to listen, seek understanding and find a way to protect our dune system based on a full understanding of the science.

Yes, it’s going to be a long walk home.

But we need to take the first steps toward restoring civility, vision, collaboration and stability.

The first rule when you are in a hole is to stop digging.

Our town deserves better.

And all of us have a role to play and a stake in the outcome. We have to speak out. We have to get involved.

As John Lewis wrote in his posthumously-published essay, “When you see something that is not right, you must say something. You must do something. Democracy is not a state. It is an act, and each generation must do its part to help build what we called the Beloved Community, a nation and world society at peace with itself.”

Amen.

The same goes for cities.

200,000 lives: A Grim Milestone

Going To Be A Long Walk Home