Seriously, Who Is That Masked Man?

Took my ever-so jolly (if slightly weakened) self out yesterday morning to get the scripts filled and do a little shopping. Using the Super Market Pharmacy makes it more convenient, to be sure. I was dressed all in black from head to toe, all except for the face which was covered by a bright white medical mask.  Heads turned so much I thought we may have to call in a Chiropractor.

Subject of stares, open-mouth gawks, side long glances, finger-pointing, snickers, folks removing themselves from where I was, by slowly backing away, I guess they hoped I'd not notice.  I did.  Little ones tugged at their mother's clothing and pointed at me; one even went ballistic at the mere sight of the masked man and started screaming at the top of her lungs.  One can only wonder what previous experience with the medical community caused such a violent reaction, but I won't waste time on that one.  That's why God created therapy!  Honest.

The best was last, as usual.  As I stood in the checkout line an obnoxious little girl asked (demanded?) her mother explain why this man was wearing a mask. The mother began her bullshit with "well, he probably has some nasty disease and the mask is to prevent you and me from catching it."   (Shades of the early days of AIDS in the 80s.) I was about to say something, but I didn't have to, the cashier quickly and quietly put the woman in her place, reprimanding her for not noticing the obvious.  She folded her arms, leaned back against the register and explained that the mask was to protect me from whatever germs and diseases they may unknowingly harbor; she explained that her husband (who has been on Chemo for 3 years) has to put up with the same ignorance following  each new round of Chemo.  

The mother was clearly downright pissed to be told she was a dumb ass and said so.  I finally spoke up and with all my strength (and the deepest voice I could muster) told her to pay her bill and get the hell out of the store. That no one cared about her hurt feelings. (How about any one else's?) That there were too many important things in life to give a shit about, and she wasn't one of them.  As Mother struggled with her bags, the cashier got in one more zinger saying, "You might want to educate yourself so this doesn't happen again.  Just a suggestion."

I loved it. The cashier had seen the prescriptions and knew more than I did at the time.  We shared a knowing glance and a smile - if you can see a smile behind those masks - and I was out the door and home within 10 minutes.  

I indulged myself with fresh bagels, cream cheese, a container of Sherbet, and a couple of (still warm) cinnamon buns. Settled in with the latter and a cup of coffee, and all was right with the world for a moment.

And then it happened. Around 1:45 pm I got chills and the shakes. (Is there no end to this?) Checked and fever was 100.5, so I cancelled the Dr's appt. set for 3:15 and went to bed. Fever broke around 5:30, so I changed bed linens, took a shower, got into clean undies and returned to bed. I really, really need to do laundry this morning.  Three sets of bed linens and copious amounts of shorts, tee-shirts and socks await. If I spike another fever today, I've got nothing but the winter flannel sheets to put on the bed, and that will never do in the summer-like temperatures here; today is forecast to be 85', cooling down to about 68' overnight. Hardly time for flannel sheets, no?

And so it goes, for as long as it goes.

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