The Bloody Doors Off

Yup. It’s some kind of abrasion that isn’t healing because of one of my (few) existing molars. So I get to gargle with baking soda and water, and apply a cream three times a day for five weeks.

It made me realize, I’ve reached that stage in life where I think everything is out to kill me.

Someone, please tell me this is a phase you grow out of.

I put myself through hell the past couple of days. Marlo stayed calm through it all; she made no assumptions, and waited for the ENT doctor to tell me what was wrong. She quelled my anxiety.

Which is a feat in itself.

Fuck, when did I lose the fearlessness of youth?

Did I ever have the fearlessness of youth?

Okay, maybe a mild bravado. Of youth.

I miss when I could do stuff without examining it from fourteen different angles first. I wanna say ‘yes and’ to more opportunities.

I mean, I do. But not as much as in my thirties. And when I take my shot, nine times out ten the results are positive. But it’s about taking the shot.

Taking the risk.

I’d make that my goal in 2022 (NOT a resolution, I don’t like those), but. You know.

Covid.

We’re back in a modified lockdown, whatever the fuck that means. And Omicron seems to be ripping through everyone. In the past week, I’ve read/talked to half a dozen people who caught it, despite being double-vaxxed. (And my pure non-scientific research suggests that the booster is doing a helluva job blunting the worst effects of Covid.)

And I made a colossal mistake earlier this evening. I needed to get the prescription filled from the ENT. Bundled up (it’s a cold one tonight), put in the wireless headphones and hit Spotify. Boarded the streetcar and took a seat.

Halfway there, it dawned on me.

I wasn’t masked.

Holy FUCK.

Spent the rest of the ride with my hand over my nose and mouth. Not to protect me so much as to protect everyone else. Thankfully a drugstore employee had a spare mask.

Because they’ve stopped selling them.

They stopped selling.

And the provincial government has made sure that you have to pay between $180 and $300 to get a proper PCR test. Good luck trying to find a spare rapid test. I’ve seen several Facebook posts from people begging communities for a test.

This is fucked.

This is why I’m afraid to take the risk right now.

This is why I think everything is out to kill me.

And I might not be wrong.