There’s my friend with MS whose electric scooter was demolished by an SUV, putting her in the hospital with skull and other fractures; there’s my friend who was held up at gunpoint on New Year’s Eve, who said NO!, and walked away; who, several weeks later, was knocked over in a crowd on the Upper East Side and broke his nose, a tooth, and his kneecap and who, several weeks after that, developed shingles; there’s my artist friend who can’t paint because she fractured a bone in her right hand, and another friend whose sister has a malignant brain tumor; there’s my massage therapist and my friend’s husband who have both been coughing for weeks; and then there was the call last night at 4 am … a scary thing, a call at 4 am, in the midst of all of this.
One of our oldest friends had just been admitted with a heart attack. His wife was sitting in the waiting room but, as the nurse put it, was “legally blind with partial dementia,” and their sons had been called but had no transportation.
Well, this turned out not to be true, well the part about the sons anyway: they’re on their way. (The legally blind part is true; the dementia thing is complicated, in that she can discourse about Tolstoy but can’t drive or cook a meal.)
The Romans thought the month of May was unlucky, and performed all sorts of rituals to ward off the evil spirits; and now the world is supposed to end on May 21st (well, only for the Rapturous; for the rest of us it’s Judgment Day).
If I prayed (and maybe I should try), I’d be praying for all my friends, and all of us Judged ones, to make it through to June en bonne santé.