This COVID-19 makes me sick
I don’t think the reason I’ve come down with symptoms indicative of COVID-19 is that I’m a frontline nurse in the British NHS, but because I made the following joke in a recent story of mine:
This pandemic is the stuff of Hollywood blockbusters, Best Seller lists, and misplaced social media posts by the Hollywood Elite. This is now pour new reality, ordinary people doing extraordinary things, just like Gal Gadot and her friends. But such times require real heroes, not pretenders.
I haven’t had much time for my creative writing much lately, I’ve been busy with the day job. The frontline clinical team I co-lead is currently facing its biggest challenge since we had that patient admitted to our ward with a sexually transmitted mental illness. He was fucking crazy, just like the medical intern that had an affair with our consultant psychiatrist. One hell of a psychiatric tryst, I can tell you! Don’t worry it helps to be mad with a job like mine. Our psychologist reckons I have schizophrenia. Jokes on her, we don’t even have a psychologist.
So, I’ve finally gone viral, but not the way I’d always hoped. It makes me sick that I’m now stuck at home while my team carries on without me. Fevers are snot cool.
However, every cloud has a silver lining, unless of course, it’s a mushroom cloud, then it’s most probably strontium. Anyway, due to these COVID-19 shenanigans, I’m no longer worried about not having enough time to deal with stuff that I’m either outrightly denying any involvement in or avoiding taking any responsibility for. This brief respite now provides me with the most valuable of gifts, no, not a trolley-dash down the household aisle at Walmart, but time itself.