My 100-year-old mother has been dosed, kicking and screaming, with both vaccinations and, five weeks ago, her booster. She doesn't gad about--she can barely walk, and her walks take place between her bedroom and the communal dining area in her extremely well-run, COVID-safe, assisted living community.
But Mom's favorite indoor sport--also her favorite outdoor sport--is ripping off her mask. You should have seen her at her 99th birthday party, which took place on Zoom for me, since no flying was allowed at the time. "Come sit by me!" she kept yelling at various visitors, patting the bench on the outdoor porch beside her, mask dangling by one ear lobe.
"You need to put on your mask!" said the chorus of friendly people administering cake and champagne. I waved, urged the same, and she smiled and said she couldn't hear me. (Nothing new there! That situation has been ongoing since I was born.)
I've been FaceTiming her, thanks to the lovely ladies who care for her, one of whom is now a lot sicker than she is. Mom's coughing and sneezing.
"Don't open that window! I'm cold!" she yelled at the endlessly patient administrator in full PPE.
"No, I don't have what's that, COVIS," she calls it, "Just a cold." She's eating well and enjoying the almond butter, hummus and other goodies I send. It's her tenacity that keeps her going. Right now, I'm not feeling at all bad about not visiting.
P.S. She'd be yelling, "it's a hundred and a half!" and you know what? She'd be absolutely correct. Her absolutely favorite thing to be.
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