Written week before admitted to ICU

 First time in weeks I can touch my face with my right hand

That left arm pit could use soap and deodorant 

Maybe soon I can put my socks on all by myself,  more often than not

But let's not get carried away 

Have to go buy 

a new days worth of oxygen supply

Gonna be a bright sunshiny day

Heavy Paper

 Had a dream that I accidentally hurt my pet wild boar. 

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Autoimmune disease. Immune system attacking you by mistake. 

What if it isn't...a mistake? 

......

Covid took all the pressure off. 

There is not one thing I had dreamed up in my entire life that could not have been destroyed by the response to this. 

rethink. 

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Write it down. Save it. Encourage family to pursue dreams. If the lights are on at 3 AM and they are writing, or building, bring them a snack. Call in to school for them. Celebrate those notions. Share. Keep dreams alive.  If you can't write a novel, is your idea a short story, or a poem? Contribute to the family.  Creativity can carry everyone.

I woke up drenched in sweat. I told my wife about the gist of the dream and she made sure I wrote it down. Not doing well. Not the worst thought to leave on. It was so bright in the middle of the night. Snow. Ever since I was a kid waiting for Christmas morning, I would wake up and look outside. If only everyday had two days, instead of a night and a day. 

Last page.

 My ramblings about illness point at the obvious.  There is always someone in worse shape. If I am incapacitated at any given moment, how do I help those worse off?