Life in the time of COVID-19 and flashbacks to 1973

I'm sure it all could be worse. My present mood could be a side effect of being fatigued from helping out for nearly 14 hours straight with the Presidential Preference Primary yesterday. And the sore throat that woke me up in wee hours. (Could be from acid reflux. Could be from allergies. It doesn't have to be from THAT.) Or from the frustration of not being able to get needed tax stuff from certain agencies when I've been trying to do this since February. Yet, what am I frustrated and fixated on today? What have I haunting Amazon for all day like it's eBay - only to be beaten out by what surely could only be HOARDERS or POTENTIAL PRICE GOUGERS who just HAD to swoop down and take all that was available of a certain product.  All of the remaining 6 orders. 48 rolls a package. 288 rolls of TOILET PAPER in total. My one single order got snatched out of my Amazon cart.

I wasn't always this way. I resisted the urge to snatch up multiple packages of toilet paper when the first rumblings of the oncoming storm. I just got the six MegaRolls. I never dreamed that this virus would cause a repeat of the Great Toilet Paper Stampede of 1973.   Even as I grabbed a package of napkins the other day just in case sanity didn't assert itself, I thought this sort of avarice would all blow over. hungrily

But my biggest mistake, my downfall, was talking to others who -truth to be told came off as smug and self-righteous. And these are people who purport to like me. One's even related to me. "This is all so ridiculous" said one huffily. " I always buy it each time it goes on sale so I always have a good supply of toilet paper on hand." This person said this knowing that my supply was relatively meager. And the one who's related to me kept harping on the subject. Going on and on about how he had so much on hand.  He spoke about getting a large package for a worried sick friend at Costco. He spoke of other shoppers who had ignored the limit of one signs and plopped multiple packages in  their carts. They were SHOCKED when Costco employees enforced the limits. "She's lucky to have you as a friend," I murmured.  "So, how much do you have on hand?" he inquired. I was honest. Two rolls -I'd sadly  just finished one- and that unopened package. Not nearly enough if I wasn't going to be able to get more when I needed it. He laughed and  got smug and self-righteous after that. And teased because he has vast experience doing this as an older brother. It's fortunate we don't FaceTime. He ended the conversation saying we needed to check in with each other more. I fumed as I was attempting to fall asleep which meant sleep was delayed.

The next day, a normally level headed Facebook friend cheerfully revealed he just bought 48 rolls off Amazon. Just in case. "What?!??", I croaked aloud. (Sore throat, remember?) I went on the hunt for a few hours- thinking several times I had success only to get error  messages as I started to check out. I've grown to loathe the word unavailable. And I'm also am struck by dejá vu as I formulate my Plans B through Z. This happened before in relatively less dire times. When I didn't have a cat with an unfortunate toilet paper fixation. When I was much younger, more resilient, less fatigued, and not being told by the authorities to just stay home.  When sneezing or coughing in public was greeted by concern and "Bless you!", not fear and scolding tirades. When I wasn't constrained by social distancing. When a sore throat didn't spark fear of the approach of something much worse.

"Doctor, I Let You Go."

There aren't words to adequately express my deep affection for the BBC TV show, Doctor Who. I enjoy the concept, the characters, and the writing which combines humor about the human condition with deep - sometimes provocative - insights. I love how the plotlines will sometimes loop back into episodes/the series' canon which aired decades before and pick up a plot point and run with it. I admire the exquisite cleverness of the first showrunners who -faced with having to replace the original Doctor- came up with the concept of regeneration. The character changes from one actor's face to another actor's face using camera tricks or special effects which have become more sophisticated as the series went on. The Doctor's personality changes with each regeneration; initially, there's confusion on the companion's part and amnesia on The Doctor's part. It takes a few episodes before The Doctor remembers his- or her- previous incarnations. But, the premise remains: The Doctor character endures, the face of The Doctor changes, and the show goes on and has gone on -with some breaks in transmission- since it premiered on November 23, 1963. We are now on the 13th Doctor.

There have been instances where children have watched the show and have grown up and played The Doctor - realizing a childhood dream. It makes it all the more poignant when the actor leaves the series.  The character "regenerates" from one actor into another- but not without some angst or reluctance. So, it was with the Twelfth Doctor, played by Peter Capaldi. At the end of his run as The Doctor, his character displayed a disinclination to regenerate. Change is hard. But, finally, after giving a speech proffering all the advice -  and every bit of warning he can - to the new Doctor, he accepts that it's time to let himself transform into something that is not him and yet still is. He forgets that amnesia will once again set in and it will take the new Doctor a while to recollect  who The Doctor was and a bit longer to figure out who The Doctor now is. Peter Capaldi's final impeccably delivered, heart-wrenching line is: "Doctor, I let you go." 

I can relate. The past decade - the past few decades, come to think of it - has been a series of hellos and goodbyes. Medical malfunctions, life lessons, and inevitable changes have wrought changes in my appearance. I'm often when startled when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. "It's not me", I think.  What in the world have I regenerated into? And- inevitably - what do I want to regenerate into?  These thoughts lead  considering the minimalist/self-improvement advice that's making the rounds, especially now at the beginning of a new year: Let go of anything that no longer serves you.

I'm not going to be dramatic about what I let go. It's tempting to do the popular-on-social-media, over-the-top, emotionally -charged rant and flounce off.  However, I am an introvert despite those extroverted behaviors I may exhibit that I've been forced into by my former profession or by societal expectations. I prefer the concept of ghosting. I'll just quietly drift away from destructive relationships, declutter things and old ways of thinking and doing, and make more room for what I value and what values me.  It's not just a matter of "enough is enough". Enough is too much. It doesn't mean I don't see a value in what I'm letting go.  These things and people were my Doctors - using the definition of "eminent scholars". The lessons taught haven't admittedly been always pleasant, living, or life affirming.   But, I have learned what these Doctors were here to teach me.  Doctors, I let you go.