These almost three years have witnessed increased death; a virus sprouting disability; people rallying to protect each other; then falling apart like pins and SARSCoV2 the bowling ball.
On one side are the back-to-normal-yay folks. The ones unused to chronic illness — which this pandemic is on the population level — demanding this illness be over. On the other side are the facing-reality folks — the ones like me with brain injury — continuing to learn about the virus, the disease it causes, the disability that results, and the ways to treat and protect ourselves.
I gotta tell ya when you just don’t wanna deal, the facing-reality folks sure are a pain in the solar plexus. Load up the catapult with mocking words, clap hands on ears against the research exploding all around ya. Rip masks off triumphantly and breathe in the smoke happily while smirking at the facing-reality folks glaring at you from behind blasting filtering air. Dance all jumbled together, breathing in each other’s lung effluent, laughing at those shaking their heads at their aranet4 readings, leaving on fleeing feet.
And then…
The crowd counts down, together in person and virtual space, the avoiders and the facers, thankful together 2022 is done!
And what do I notice the most? Everyone faces 2023 with optimism. Everyone is convinced this new year will be better, will be good, will prove delightful. Everyone greets 2023 with happy relief in spite of the piling bodies, the growing disabled in poverty seeking euthanasia, the pandemic end only in politicians’ minds.
Human beings are inherently optimistic!
