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I'm certain many people had it much worse this year than I did. But I held my own with some pretty nasty things assaulting me.
So, to commemorate this stupid year, I am taking sound advice from Miss Shields of 'A Christmas Story' fame and writing a Theme. Although it may be more of a Précis or an Allegory. But I promise I won't make it an Epic.
But It Wasn't
And it came to pass in the Days of Covid that there lived a man. He was a tall man, with very little brains and a semipermeable heart. But there dwelt within his soul the searingly bright flame of dignity and an unexpected and uncalled for self-respect. He deserved neither of these things and it was a surprise to everyone that he possessed them. ... But he did.
The man stumbled through his life, accomplishing little, bouncing off the walls of the cattle chute that he thought was normality. But for reasons he could not understand, he had relatives and friends who, because of their own personal strengths and powers, stood by him steadfastly. No one knew why. ... But they did.
Then one day, the ‘Hospital’ came for the man. The ‘Hospital’ was not a malevolent or spiteful entity but merely inexorable. Over the years, the man had bumped into the ‘Hospital’ but had managed to slide off with skinned elbows and a headache. The man hoped this encounter would be the same, perhaps just a hard slap and a kick while down. ... But it wasn’t.
No, this time, the ‘Hospital’ enveloped the man like an octopus envelops a whelk. This time, the ‘Hospital’ overpowered the man and tore at him from inside and out. It took away his well-being and gave him pain in return. There was sharp pain, dull pain, breathtaking pain and exquisite pain, some of which he had never felt before and some of which he wished he had never felt. ... But he had.
The ‘Hospital’ wrenched at the man’s body, taking away his weight and strength and wormed its way in to extinguish the flame of the man’s dignity, removing it entirely. Finally, it targeted the man’s self-respect, which may have been the goal all along. The ‘Hospital’ ground the last of the man’s self-respect to powder under its heel and picked up his body to see if there was anything of value still left. ... But there wasn’t.
When it was finished with him, the ‘Hospital’ wrung the man’s shriveled body out like an old, dirty towel and threw him into the street. The man picked himself up onto his knees and searched for his dignity and self-respect, but they were gone now and probably wouldn’t be coming back. As he looked around, he saw that he was still alive and that was, at the very least, a start. The man considered what had been lost and also what remained and thought, “Well, easy come, easy go.”
But it wasn’t.
