56. Facemasks

A morning editorial in the Washington Post reminds us that “geometric progression,” will put daily Covid-19 cases over 400,000 by Inauguration Day. Even with rapidly improving medical responses, our death count will grow to 1918 Influenza numbers, and our health care system will be severely stretched. 

As many of you know, I spent three hours in a car with my grandson on Sunday, and he tested positive on Monday. My friends rallied around, and I am hunkered down in a cabin at the head of Wallowa Lake. This place, which bustles with summer homes and visitors from across the world in July, is silent now. There are no cars, trucks, mowers, snow-blowers, or laughing children. I’ve not heard a dog bark; the deer are silent browsers on plants that stick out above a foot of snow. 

 

My two grandsons are quarantined at my house in Joseph. Trey seems to be doing fine, although he scared me with a call about not feeling well yesterday. He later said that food and drink helped. He’s healthy, and strong as the proverbial ox. I believe he has Covid—or had it, and that he is young and fit enough to get through it. For me at 78, it is more problematic. I study the virus and its implications.

 

According to the Post editorial:

 

“Multiple epidemiological studies have shown that gatherings of more than 10 persons, close contact in confined spaces, prolonged contact and contact without face masks pose the highest risk.”

 

The editors bypass the Trump administration, suggesting that President-elect Biden use bully pulpit to engage state and local governments and the public, nation-wide, in efforts to stop the geometric advance of the disease. In regions where case counts top 20 per 100,000 per day, they would:  

 

“1) restrict all indoor gatherings of adults to no more than 10 people; 

“2) close indoor restaurants, bars and clubs; and 

“3) mandate universal mask-wearing in public.

 

It’s now day 4 for me since exposure. Trey and I both wore facemasks during our three-hour car ride. We also wore masks in the house as we unpacked, made and ate dinner, and settled down Sunday night. And again Monday morning through breakfast and our car trip to testing. 

 

I know my quarantine is 14 days, but each day I feel good gives me more confidence, and makes me thankful for that sometimes inconvenient use of facemasks.