There’s nothing better than an invigorating challenge of Tug of War. Teams form on either end of a large rope, pulling for their side. Sometimes this is done over a mud pit (if you happen to be a redneck like me). Other times its on grass, but always with a center line to cross. When one side pulls the other over said line, they win.
Many days, life is just like Tug of War. Two opposing sides intent on forcing their will onto the other, each insistent that the opposing side comes along. Teamwork is important, with combined strengths helping to secure a “win”. These days, it seems the world is one giant battle to death. Each side holds tightly to their opinionated end of the rope. Opposing sides play over a giant chasm of no return. And, pull they do with all their might.
In the game of Tug of War, A fun trick to play on the opposing team to to simply drop the rope as a team. Pulling with all their might, the other team falls in a heap, not expecting such a random move by the opposition. In life, we can drop the rope, too. Change the subject. Agree to disagree. Change the channel. Flip the script to something new and different. Truly, think about it before forcing opinions on a very serious medical decision with anyone. Unless you have their complete medical history, you don’t know the entire story. Just drop that rope and find something else to discuss. Dropping the rope can be a freeing experience.
The thing that comes to mind most right now is opinions on vaccinating against Covid. At times, I need to turn off the noise, having picked up my end of the rope for personal and valid health reasons. In a free America, one used to be able to do that. In this “New” America, choice is no longer worth fighting for. Everyone must step in line, no matter your own health complications. Just do it. Some of us can’t.
That being said, upon waking Saturday, my throat was sore. Even a sore throat no longer has the same meaning as it did two years ago. After much research and preparation, I flew into action, sheltering in place while taking a group of anti-viral vitamins and minerals. Minor sniffles and congestion followed. Mr. Widower of the Pines (WP) mysteriously came up with the same symptoms. Strange how viruses can travel 733 feet. Puzzling and mysterious.
Commiserating, whining, and sniffling, we weathered the storm, not sure if we’d be alive today to talk about our experience. Thoughts of any possibility other than death were wiped from our brains by the crazed media. Our symptoms were mirrored in each other as we waited, not knowing if this was The End.
Now, men always have the worst symptoms, as any woman over the age of infancy knows. True enough, these are scary times, and having a cold is no picnic for either sex. But, we all know, men have it worse. So, we waited and whined some more. With identical symptoms, we could at least enjoy meals together, while sniffling and sneezing.
The big difference between us was that HE went to get a Covid test. With results taking three days, (absolutely unacceptable, except that we live in the middle of nowhere), we had plenty of time to plan our last hours. Plenty of time to reassess and continue to embrace our medical decisions. Plenty of time to watch how the other responded to illness and physical discomfort. More time to talk about gardening plans and the differences between roses and pine trees. We bravely waited it out.
Owning a simple Oxygen meter (Amazon – 14.95), we made sure our Oxygen levels were above 90% at all times. Temperatures were routinely checked. Prepared with every cold remedy known to humankind, the medicine chest was stocked with a variety of medicines to fight different symptoms. We drank orange juice and enjoyed chicken soup. We kept warm and took lots of naps.
The results came in yesterday. Low and Behold!!!! Thank you, Jesus!!! A gift from the heavens. Not Covid. Not the plague. Not pneumonia or gout or shingles. The Common Cold shared between two old farts. I must say, we were both a bit disappointed, as we’d have loved to work on our natural immunity. But, Covid was not in our destiny. With a restocking of supplies for the next bug that comes along, we’ll be just fine.
So, with the Tug of War over vaccinations raging, WP and I dropped our side of the rope to dance in delight at our good fortune. No Covid. In doing so, the opposing team lost their footing and fell in a heap on this round. We probably won’t pick up the rope to play again, too busy preparing to take care of our own medical needs.
People need to turn off the news and take a breath. Medical decisions are private between a patient and doctor. There shouldn’t be a game of Tug of War about private medical decisions based on very real contraindications. Medical decisions are as individual and private as fingerprints. Life was so much more pleasant when that boundary was respected.
I’m thrilled to say I’m on the mend. With fall yard work just around the corner, I have gardening techniques to review. Winterizing procedures to follow. Soup to simmer and leaves to rake.
Be careful out there. Colds and the flu can be equally as miserable and dangerous as Covid. Stay safe. Once and awhile, just drop the rope to celebrate when it’s least expected. It’s fun to watch the outcome. It’s even more fun to dance with a new partner.