The Stubbornest Symptom

Photo by Samuel Pereira on Unsplash

I’m pretty open publicly about thoughts and experiences because [insert whatever reason seems right, good or bad] and sometimes things my mom taught me about simple human decency and courage have helped someone else through a dark time, or bolstered a good time.

Or maybe narcissism. I can’t rule out narcissism.

In any case, sometimes people say thanks. So I guess I’ll keep at it for awhile.

Today’s struggle is with a last symptom from 24 hours of aches, fever, and “gut -punch” stomach ache, after attending a dance recital in Lincoln with a couple hundred mask-less Nebraskans. The last symptom is animosity.

I’m not saying this illness is COVID. What I’m saying is that it doesn’t matter what it is. What matters is that an auditorium with a couple hundred mask-less Nebraskans and no vaccine card check reminded me that 82% of Republicans still favor Donald Trump, and 60% still think the election was stolen.

I find that infuriating.

The backache yesterday was awful, but it lasted only a few hours. My stomach still hurts a bit, but isn’t awful any more. Last night it kept me from sleeping; today it was just a recurring dream. But this fury isn’t so easy to shake. I’m hoping confession will help. Maybe distraction with writing, a game, or more likely a movie with Jennifer.

What makes it so hard to treat is that it’s just a personal symptom of a chronic disease in the public soul.

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