I’ve always been so proud to brag about “My niece, the doctor.” Now I’m hating that my niece and her husband are doctors. More specifically, they are hospital physicians who will serve on the frontlines as the coronavirus intensifies and hospitals swell with patients. My niece was born on my birthday when I was 12. So, I’ve always considered her my birthday “gift.”
Now I want this gifted child, alright this gifted, accomplished woman and her husband to abandon their professional responsibilities, grab their son, come out West, and be with the rest of the family. The virus is in all 50 states, but at least they wouldn’t be working among the desperately ill. They’d be with us, the pathetically anxious, absurd, and over-protective.
But this is wishful thinking. My niece and her husband won’t abandon their posts. They’re staying put, gearing up — with countless other physicians, nurses, lab technicians, and support staff — to take care of the people who will need their expertise and kindness in the weeks ahead. And for that, I am, of course, incredibly proud of them.
We’re going to see a lot of heroes in the days ahead. We are, in fact, already seeing them.
On a lighter note, here’s the funniest conversation today from the Galatz-Wellinghoff manse:
I put on a pair of yoga pants this morning. They were “aspirational” yoga pants, mind you. I don’t do yoga regularly, but I thought if I put them on maybe I’d be inspired.
I walked by Handsome Hubby who looked at my ample (OK. More than ample) (OK. OK. Too ample) derriere. He asked if I was “running low” on clothes and needed to do laundry. ccHuh? “I mean,” he rushed on. “If you are, I’d be happy to help do a load or two.”
Ah, romance in the time of the coronavirus!
And not that I’m obsessed, but yes, we have bananas! We have bananas today! Thank you, Amazon.
And so goes Day 3. Stay healthy. Stay six feet apart. Wash your hands thoroughly.
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