Covid 

October 19, 2021 - Tuesday morning

42 degrees/cloudy skies/calm winds

Isolation Unit - Iron River Hospital

I began thrashing in the spare bed during the wee, early, morning hours of last Thursday. A continual stream of coughing spells had rendered me breathless. Poor Sargie had been up all night with me and had insisted we go to the hospital. Still, there's that stubborn streak of stupid pride that brings a man to his knees before he's willing to admit he's that sick.

"It's time," I gasped. "Let's get to the hospital."

I don't remember much after that. I do recall reaching out in an attempt to grab any semblance of air to breath. At one point, the nurse asked if I knew who and where I was. I told her it "beat the hell out of me," and honestly, I had no idea and could have cared less. At that point, I'd have paid someone to have put me out of my misery.

The doctor told me it was touch and go. I told him it was good to be in the clear and he said I wasn't nearly there yet, just relax, breath my 100% oxygen, and lay still while they filled me full of steroids. 

That was then and this is now, several days later. I just knew I'd be going home this past weekend, but that didn't happen. In fact, I hear departure dates being stated in terms of weeks and even months. Even after getting to go home, it appears I'll be armed with a truck full of green oxygen canisters. 

It hurt to write my buddy, Pokalong, this morning and inform him he may have to go ahead without me in February. On the other hand, I'm an extreme optimist and miracles do happen. 

I want to thank everyone for all your well wishes and most of all, prayers for Sargie and me. She's a real trooper and seems to be holding up doing double duty in good shape.

Your many phone calls, texts, emails, comments, et. are certainly appreciated and I feel more and more emboldened with each. 

Meanwhile, it's time to move back over to the bed and stretch out. This is the longest I've been sitting up since last week and it's showing.

I'll write when I can. Honestly, the mere act of wigging my fingers is exhausting.

Again, thank you and please don't worry. I'll be just fine. After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road....