Two years ago this morning

 

I write this on August 13, 2023. Two years ago this morning, I awoke early in my motel on Snelling Avenue in St. Paul, Minnesota—a few blocks from my boyhood home. Sweaty and more than a bit out of my mind after another dreadful night, I was to transfer to another motel closer to my 60^th high-school reunion which would begin that evening. I could not get beyond the thought that I was certain to infect everyone in attendance with this new thing called COVID There were so many sane options for me to chose, but instead I packed up, got in my car, and drove south out of St. Paul—informing no one. My symptoms got worse as I drove. After fewer than 70 miles, I pulled into a motel in Owatana, Minnesota that happened to have a room I could occupy immediately. Again, there were so many good options for actions and communications. Instead, I apparently thought I could rest and recover. After a miserable day and a yet more miserable night I was in an ever worsening brain fog. I chose to leave the motel in the morning, get into my car and back onto the highway. It is hard for me to believe that I actually thought I could drive home to Colorado. I do remember nothing until I was pulled over by an State patrol officer (or was he a county sheriff?) as I headed west on what I believe was highway 20 or 30 in Iowa. Through the rear-view mirror I saw him exit his car, draw his gun and point it at me. That cleared the fog enough that I could begin to record some memory. When I opened the door of my Honda Fit he asked me not to move or get out as he informed me that I had been reported for erratic driving and tailgating. The vague details of what I remember and what I have been told of subsequent events are interesting enough to be written down, but here I record only that a couple of hours later, another door opened. From my hospital bed in Fort Dodge, Iowa I could see the nurse standing at the door as she told me that I did have COVID. 

 

Memories slowly-by-slowly become clearer and yet more humbling, interesting, and touching from that moment, but here I record only that on August twenty-second I was back in my Fort Collins home.

(c) from date of posting, by Bob Komives, Fort Collins