To Mask or Not to Mask?
To mask, or not to mask …
Why is that even a question?
I’m old enough to remember the national flap when seat belts were made mandatory. Even as a kid, I thought it was ridiculous to see adults rail about having a “constitutional right” to carry their baby on their lap while in a car. Or – gasp – not wear a seat belt so as not to wrinkle their clothes.
The politicization of masks is a national disgrace. The name calling and the Karen videos show a different America than what our children and grandchildren deserve.
“Novel” means new. Scientists are discovering new aspects of the novel coronavirus on a daily basis. Wearing a mask in public is a way to clamp down on the transmission of the virus as the world works toward a vaccine. A mask is self-protection and protects others from you (any of us could be asymptomatic).
The data tells the story: COVID-19 patients have at least one of these: fever, cough, trouble breathing.
Have you or a loved one ever had trouble breathing? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
Just breathe
My darling Grandpa Cassidy used to talk to me about the importance of taking a deep breath. In his 60s, he’d tell me that made all the difference in life.
“Three times a day, take a slow, deep breath. Feel it in your lungs. Appreciate the air.”
Would Grandpa have worn a mask? You bet!
I can’t breathe!
That phrase, gasped by George Floyd this summer, haunts our nation. The thought of not being able to draw a breath of life-sustaining air is horrifying.
When Mom was a youngster, she and some cousins walked down the hill on Chatham Street for a swim in New Haven’s Quinnipiac River. Someone thought it would be funny to hold her under water. She struggled with all her might, but nearly drowned that day. For the rest of her life, she wouldn’t go for a swim – or even wade – in the ocean or a local lake. The only exception was when she saw one of my brothers struggling in the water and dashed in to help.
Our neighbor, Edwin Tretter, died of cancer in his lungs back in 2004. He’d never smoked, but his lungs were stricken what that terrible disease. Knowing that kind man struggled desperately to breathe saddens me to this day.
Maybe we need a song
Back during World War II, when there was solid concern that an enemy attack by air was plausible, air-raid drills were conducted.
Gosh, they even recorded a song. (Warning: it’s a hoot, but really bad! Prepare yourself to be haunted by an ear worm.)
Pearl Harbor suffered a terrible attack, but the rest of our homeland made it through unscathed. Does that mean the drills were a waste of time? Of course not.
My friend, the nurse
Sara and I met in Singing Hoosiers at IU. We were roommates my senior year.
Sara has the voice of an angel. She’s tough as nails.
Sara is now a nurse in Ohio. She posted this on Facebook the other night.
Nurse Sara deserves the final word:
I am a nurse.
I work in a cancer hospital that is part of a very large university teaching hospital complex.
I am scared, SHITLESS, every night when I go to work.
When I am not at work, I limit my exposure to other people. I wear a mask in the rare occasions when I go out to buy groceries.
I fail to see the difficulty in doing this. I recently had family members visit for the weekend. The first time we had seen each other since late February. We never touched. We spent most of our time together outside on my patio.
I would love a hug right now. I miss that so much. I have a brand new granddaughter, born a week and two days ago. In Florida. I do not know when, if ever, I will get to see her.
It is killing me. Wear your fucking masks. It’s such a small thing.
Would you like to receive an email notice when there’s a new Too Much Brudders post? Sign up here: