Day 255

I am enraged. I am certain I’ve never felt this level of anger in my life, and I’ve been angry many times. Yesterday, I was thinking about what I was thankful for. My plan was to write about the good things I have, despite this being the crappiest year of my life. I intended to push myself, to make myself see what there is to be happy about. But then my spouse tested positive for Covid and my anger exploded. For months I have been complaining about her having to teach in-person. For weeks, I’ve been pissed off that teachers have been expected to babysit other people’s kids, putting their needs before the needs of their own children. Last week, as cases throughout New Jersey surged her superintendent decided they were going to move into phase two of the hybrid model which meant doubling her contact hours with students. Yes, you read that right, as more people were getting infected, her school increased her babysitting hours, demanding that she put her life in danger so that other parents could tend to their own lives and needs.

We had plans to go to Cape Cod this weekend. My brother thought it would be best for my mother to have her first Thanksgiving without Dad somewhere other than home, a place that held no memories of our father — at least no holiday memories of him. For once, I agreed with him completely, as did my spouse. If we had Thanksgiving in New York, we would have spent the day trying to recreate something that would never be the same again. Dad’s absence would be heavier, sadder. My brother offered to host dinner at his condo in Cape Cod, and Mom rented a condo for my son, my spouse, and me for a few days. It shouldn’t have been a problem, since Dad got sick, I’ve been bouncing between New York and New Jersey, so we were only expanding our bubble by one. 

According to the information we found online, Massachusetts required people entering the state to have a negative Covid test. My brother was insistent that we get tested so as not to have any problems. He and mom got tested on Metropolitan Avenue in Queens on Monday night and waited over five hours in the car for the test. Both tests were negative. I took my son to get tested in Green Brook yesterday morning. We got there at 8:05, five minutes after they opened, and cars were spilling out of the parking lot. The line of people snaked around the building. A woman with a clip board was walking down the line taking our phone numbers. She told us we’d get a call to come back in five, six, or seven hours. Damn! Was it even worth it. But as I was driving away, I thought it was probably best this way. My spouse would be home by then so we could all go together. The test was supposed to be a formality. But when they finally did call us back — seven and a half hours later — and they asked us why we were being tested, my spouse answered, “There was an outbreak in my school and I want to know if I got infected.” She thought that sounded better than, “We want to travel.” It wasn’t really a lie, there had been an outbreak only a few days earlier. The test was quick and easy, a swab up both nostrils. They told us if we were negative they’d text us. If we were positive they’d call. But it would be another three hours of waiting. And sure enough, three hours later, the phone rang and my stomach dropped. It was Medemerge calling to let my spouse know she tested negative for Strep. Strep! But that didn’t make sense and so we joked about it, until I logged into the patient portal and saw that she tested positive for Covid. And my anger raged.

Thanksgiving aside, my son had qualified for a taekwondo tournament next weekend. It’s virtual but he still needed to compete in his school, where his instructor has a mat and cameras set up for zoom. We paid for the tournament. My son was excited and looking forward to it — the one bit of normalcy he’s had in this miserable year. The one thing that has made him feel good about life and himself. And now he can’t compete because he has to quarantine for two weeks. I am so angry that my spouse has had to teach in-person because parents and politicians have been saying kids need school for their mental health. Well what about my son’s mental heath? Or more importantly, what about his physical health? Because my spouse has been catering to other kids, her own son is now being punished. Her own son has lost something important to him. And we have lost money we don’t have on his entrance fee.

But we still didn’t have our son’s test or mine. For another hour we were on edge. What if he was positive? When the text came that he was negative, we breathed a brief sigh of relief. It could be a false positive. Or he could be infected but not long enough for it to show up on a test. But for the moment, he was healthy.

I called my mother and told her we couldn’t come for Thanksgiving because my spouse tested positive. She said she already paid for the condo so she wanted us — my son and I — to come. It’s Covid, a valid reason to cancel last minute. But there still would be no refund. Besides, Mom really wanted us all together. So I agreed to come. It’s not like I could stay home. I needed to get my son away from my spouse in hopes he wasn’t already infected. Keeping him safe has been my number one priority since this damn virus struck.

Mostly, I’m angry because my spouse shouldn’t be sick. Neither the Governor nor the superintendent should have put her in a position where she could catch a deadly virus. The Governor should have shut down schools like he did in March. But no one cares about the teachers. And the superintendent should not have increased contact hours. She should have switched everyone to virtual as did other schools in the area. But she wanted to please the parents. She wanted to make them happy. When I set my anger aside, I’m deathly afraid. I’m scared that my spouse will get sick — very sick. I’ve been down this road before and it’s horrible. When I asked her how she felt, she said fine. Those were the last cohesive words Dad said to me — “I’m fine” — and then he died. Needless to say, my spouse’s words bring me no comfort.

Yesterday afternoon, when my son finished his school work for the day, he made crumb cake. Every Thanksgiving in my son’s memory, his grandfather made him crumb cake. Since Dad wasn’t here to make it, my son insisted on making it for him, for us all to enjoy and to remember Dad. He did most of the baking himself. He mixed the batter and the crumbs and when it was done he covered it with powdered sugar. Grandpa would have been proud. He did a fabulous job. The cake was delicious. We cut it into quarters and he insisted on bringing a quarter to Cape Cod to give to his grandmother. She very much appreciated it — and enjoyed eating it. We ate in memory of Dad — there’s almost something biblical in that or is it sacrilegious?

I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was too angry. My heart was racing too fast. Plus, I had to sleep on the couch which isn’t all that comfortable. With lack of sleep, I was up by four thirty and my son and I were on the road at five. I packed not only for the weekend, but for the next three weeks. Instead of going home on Sunday, we will go to Mattituck where it is a safe. 

It’s been ages since I’ve driven more than three hours in a single stretch. I hate to drive, but my spouse likes it, so usually she does all the driving. We had planned for me to drive the first couple of hours. Ever since her eye surgery, she doesn’t see well in the dark. But she was supposed to take over after that. Obviously, she couldn’t, so I drove the whole way. Considering the rain, how hard it beat down at times and the fact that it rained the entire journey, we made good time. We were at my brother’s by noon.

The day was okay, not as bad as I feared. Since we weren’t home, I could pretend it wasn’t a holiday, just a dinner with the family. But the few times I thought about Dad, I had to wipe away the tears. I miss him so much. I’m glad we weren’t in Queens. If we had been, the pain of missing would have suffocated me. It would have been impossible to escape the memories, the cruel fate that tore him from us way too soon. Here I could focus on the fact that I wasn’t in New Jersey, that I’m in a place that makes me happy. We — mom, my son, and I — played dominos and cards while my brother cooked. The food was fabulous. My son ate incredibly well. We all ate too much.

My spouse sat home alone — all alone on Thanksgiving. Governor Murphy had a pleasant dinner with his family, I’m sure. As did my spouse’s superintendent. The people who made the decision to put my spouse’s life in danger got to enjoy Thanksgiving. They are not sick. They aren’t worried about inadvertently getting their children sick. And the media who mocked the teachers in New York, the anchors who ridiculed the Union for demanding schools shut down when the rates surged, they too got to enjoy dinner with their families. Also, the parents who demanded teachers teach in-person, they didn’t have their holidays ruined. But my spouse’s holiday was shitty and lonely. How many other teachers were in a similar situation?

It’s bad enough my son had to spend Thanksgiving without the person he loved more than anyone, he couldn’t even have his other mother here to comfort him. We spent the holiday apart. Thank you Governor Murphy for ensuring that a crappy holiday was made even crappier. You will not have my vote in November. I promise you that.

I spoke to my spouse this evening. I wish I could tell you she was still symptom free, but she isn’t. She has an appointment for another Covid test tomorrow and hopes to be able to speak with a doctor. There will be no updates. She’d rather you contact her directly.

I apologize for the number of typos that I’m sure surpass my usually amount. I’m exhausted and can’t keep my eyes open any longer.