Day 14: I miss my girlfriends

The twin girls across the street love my puppy. Almost every time I round the corner to the front yard, one of them runs out the front door in PJs or calls from a second floor deck to yell, “Hi HERO!” Their SIP time includes homeschooling, so I’m not surprised they’re staring longingly out windows looking for any diversion at all. With great pride they told me (always a leash apart) that school math is super easy for them, then with gloomy faces reported that Russian math was going to start up again soon. At almost 10 they are bursting with chatter and stories. I’ve only gotten to know them over the past month of Hero-walking and quarantining, but they’re magnetic the way all girls are, times two. I love their driveway chalk pictures and, you know, just all of the… girl stuff.

With Bernie still in and out of the hospital, it’s #Flattenthecurve Day 14 for Lees with no in person contact with anyone at all except all of these boys, the dog included. I’ve never lamented not having daughters because most of my favorite people made them and let me borrow theirs. But now I’m stuck here with ever-hungry seat-lifters and I’ve become Monica:

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I’ve also become a bit Monica with the cleaning… 

I miss Women’s Bible Study: a weekly reset that just isn’t the same when we’re not in a circle on couches giggling and praying and sometimes crying together. (Bible Study is a full contact affair, emotionally and physically.) I miss coffee with girlfriends: a lifeline to sanity, a sounding board for complaints, a no-judgment zone to share successes and worries. I even miss chatting with moms on sidelines. OK, maybe like one or two of you. You know who you are. When I picture Life after COVID-19, it involves margaritas with The Stockton Women, a fierce collection of cousins who share Grandma Mid: the hilarious, loving, smoking and drinking matriarch who loved each one of us the best.

I also miss restaurants a ridiculous amount. Meal planning and preparation and clean up is now a three times a day thing–often at different times, plus snacks. I miss meals out where my only responsibility was ordering and eating. And take out isn’t the same. Those of you also rinsing plastic containers for the recycles and marrying leftovers into Tupperware are feeling me on this. IT IS NOT THE SAME.

Talking to the twins’ momma on my multiple daily Hero walks (always a leash apart), I recognize she has zero down time. She’s working while homeschooling and entertaining her almost 10 twins who still need her supervision for things like slime-making and movie-approving. Meanwhile, I’m here with a puppy and teenage boys who sleep until 2pm. What a waste of resources that I cannot invite the girls over to make cupcakes, let them watch unapproved Netflix specials, and try on silly formalwear from the back of my closet…

… girl stuff.

 

 

 

Coronavirus 101

Jason started feeling sick. Not “COVID-19 sick” he wrote, but definitely sick. Though his presenting symptoms were not the classic myalgia/sore throat/cough, I told him what I’m telling everybody:

Assume it’s COVID-19.

Don’t Panic, is the first and hardest instruction to follow. But yesterday Jason earned an A+ in Coronavirus 101: What To Do When You Get Sick During a Pandemic. Jason realized he did not need medical attention, and stayed home. Jason knew COVID-19 testing was not necessary because even if he tested positive, there are no medicines to treat coronavirus (though new ones are being tested in a controlled, scientific way)… so he stayed home. Also, Jason’s COVID-19 status wouldn’t alter his behavior because he was already self-isolating, by staying home.

Social media is bursting with criticism: “I went to/called the doctor with xyz symptoms and risky exposures, AND THEY REFUSED TO TEST ME.” Angry, scared, and looking for people to blame, test-seekers are also unwittingly lowering the confidence we need to have AND SHOULD HAVE in our front line medical staff. And while they are out in the world attempting to tap limited resources unnecessarily, they’re potentially spreading COVID-19 or other pathogens. I’m going to repeat this a million times:

COVID-19 TESTING IS NOT MEDICAL CARE.

And this:

If you aren’t sick enough to consult a doctor or need the ER, you need to stay home.

This is Day 8 for Lees on Lockdown. We’re not protecting ourselves so much as shielding other people. Bernie was in and out of the hospital until Monday, so we’re assuming all four of us have been exposed and could be shedding virus with no symptoms. Does this mean after 2 weeks of isolation we can start sneaking in short visits with people who promise they have been at home, where no one is symptomatic, and everyone promises to wash their hands?

No. Nope. Not yet. No.

The most common text message in my phone right now is asking how long will this go on. And friends, there are no answers for this. We only have mathematical models, daunting statistics, and sobering graphs from experts who predict a more immediate crisis before any possibility of returning to a world where there is lots of toilet paper. But China reported no new local cases yesterday, and I’m clinging to that. Can you envision a cascade of mini celebrations as each city in the US begins reporting 14 straight days with zero positive tests? We’ll get there.

If you stay home.

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This t-shirt exists, and I want it.

A message for young people: quit it, and stay home

Dear Young People,

If you don’t kill us with your refusal to adhere to social distancing, we’ll all be hen-pecked to death by your annoying insistence on meeting up with friends. So quit it, and stay home.

The messaging that COVID-19 is less lethal to your age group–which is true, thank God– is being translated by some in your age group as “we won’t get it,” which is really really really untrue. Instead, because you have already been everywhere (school and sports and Starbucks) and with everybody (ditto) you’re carrying a risk of having contracted COVID-19 that is not zero. People your age are also more likely to walk around shedding virus while having no symptoms at all.

Some of you have become armchair epidemiologists and are manufacturing relative risk estimates based on positive COVID-19 reports in your area. Whatever you are guessing, you’re wrong. We aren’t testing enough people to know what the community penetrance is. Even if you arrived at the hospital right now and with the classic presentation (body aches, fever, cough, and fatigue), they wouldn’t test you for COVID-19 unless you were sick enough to be admitted. And though very few of you will get that sick, some of you will. Instead, you’re more likely to infect 2-4 people (that’s the R naught) every time you insist on going over to Emma’s.

Also, I don’t care what Emma’s family is allowing. Social distancing means you stay home. And if you have to go out–and let’s be honest, you don’t– you stay 6 feet away from other people. We’re also not buying your “I’ll go to the grocery for you” or “just gonna run up to Panera for a sandwich.” Children, please.

On Wednesday, I gave a COVID-19 overview to high school seniors who told me they hadn’t gotten much more information than, “wash your hands.” On Wednesday, which was just 72 hours ago, they didn’t entirely believe me when I told them schools would be canceled by the next day. I showed them graphs that prove how contagious COVID-19 is, and said out loud what no one is telling you: some of your grandparents will die if we do not slow its spread. You know what those kids aren’t doing now? They aren’t asking to go over to Emma’s.

Things might get grim, but right now you have an opportunity to help save lives by doing something you already love to do: stay home and play with your phone. Make some TikToks. Learn how to skateboard or practice your three-pointer. And armed with science (R naught! Homeschooling done for the day!), you can be an ambassador for public health just by telling your friends you’re not meeting up with them at Shake Shack.

Tell them to quit it, and stay home.

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Remember summertime when you didn’t know who these guys were? They are the definition of VIRAL. Related: the Hype House needs to be shut down. #socialdistancing

So you think you have coronavirus…

In a day or two, nearly all of us will have a version of this story, and this is just one example of many that I’ve gotten within the last 12 hours:

So, my wife went to Starbucks with Beka yesterday… and Beka called this morning to say she has a fever and there is a woman in Beka’s lab who is self-quarantined because her husband was in Spain for a conference in February and he’s sick. Should I be worried?

By St. Patrick’s Day, this story will be met with, “She went to STARBUCKS?” incredulity. But right now, and in the next couple of days, all of us will have a similar risk to assess as the friend of a friend of a friend that was exposed gets closer. Here is my take home message if you read no further: you are most likely going to be absolutely ok.

I write about COVID-19 yet again because my phone is on fire, because the high schoolers I spoke to yesterday were absolutely starving for information, and because you guys are reading and sharing. Many of you are leaders of organizations in your own spheres and I APPLAUD YOU for taking action early to cancel events that put us within 6 feet of each other. Your caution is helping to #flattenthecurve and will ultimately conserve resources if not save lives. By now you’ve seen that awesome graphic showing how even if we don’t prevent a single infection, by merely stretching out the rate at which that happens, fewer people die.

Here around Boston, schools are beginning to close. Unfortunately, not all of them yet, but let’s try to be kind while everyone gets on the same page. There is so much conflicting information circulating, new and alarming data hourly, and our own very human fear and skepticism to overcome. By now, I hope most of us are being mindful of how risky that Starbucks stop could be, but even the most vigilant of us will have a “Beka story” soon.

So you think you could have coronavirus… what do you do? Here is what the large medical centers are recommending right now:

Don’t panic. 80% of infected patients experience a mild or moderate course that requires NO medical treatment.

If you have no symptoms, there is nothing to do but self-isolate. Most people show symptoms within 5 days, but during that “incubation period,” if you have been infected, you are contagious even though you feel fine. THIS IS WHY WE’RE CANCELING EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW. If you think your exposure is especially risky (e.g., your college student home from abroad is feverish and coughing) you have an even bigger responsibility to self-isolate. Some patients have not reported symptoms for up to 2 weeks, which is why these “mandatory quarantines” are for 14 days.

IF YOU GET SYMPTOMS, COVID-19 looks like this: tickly throat progressing to sore throat, low grade fever, body aches, and all of those things that make you say, “ugh, I’m definitely coming down with something.” Abdominal pain, diarrhea, nausea, and vomiting are also being reported. Sneezing, runny nose, and postnasal drip is NOT how COVID-19 presents.

IF YOU HAVE COVID-19, symptoms could escalate to a persistent, dry cough and high fever. Testing kits are still not universally available and providers are hamstrung by strict criteria that indicate their use. But you don’t need it. You can call any number of hotlines if you have questions, but remember that 80% of the time, COVID-19 will run its course and you will get better within two weeks. The recommendation is that you STAY HOME and treat with Tylenol, lots of fluid and rest, hot showers to help with cough, and limiting contact with housemates. That last bit will, obviously, be difficult.

YOU NEED TO GO TO THE DOCTOR IF… you have shortness of breath and feel like you are worsening to point of needing care, and/or you are over 60, and/or you have co-morbidities like diabetes, heart disease, or are immunosuppressed. Those with risk factors should set a low bar for seeking medical attention if symptoms are consistent with COVID-19 infection. Our Taiwanese friends have offered this simple test: if you are sick and cannot take a deep breath and hold it for 10 seconds, you need to seek medical attention immediately. (NOTE: if this “breath test” is easy for you, it does NOT mean you are negative for coronavirus.)

If you have decided you need to go to the doctor, CALL AHEAD. The instructions for how each center is handling presumed COVID-19 infections are changing daily. In public, you should wear a mask (or get one as soon as you get there).

And now I leave you with a hopeful message from J.P. Hong, our dear friend from the Asan Medical Center in Korea… and the future:

“First comes denial and then confusion and then you will see so much rapid change and development in the next few days…. it will be incredible how we adapt…. and hopefully see the better side of humanity as doctors volunteer and various innovations occur to fight the virus.”

Those who have bravely canceled events and schools and gatherings are past denial, but most of us are still muddling through the confusion. I hope these guidelines help as all of us inevitably acquire our own Beka Stories.

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COVID-19 Isn’t A Snowstorm

It’s been two weeks since I wrote about COVID-19, and in that time the virus has extended from a handful of countries to over one hundred, from two cases in two states to over 400 cases in 35. And though those numbers still sound low, I urge you to calculate how many degrees of separation you are, RIGHT NOW, from someone who is quarantined (or should be). Here in Boston, most of us are at one or two.

Still, there’s a whole lotta this being shared:

The FLU kills thousands and so does heart disease and the whole country isn’t losing weight and buying Pelotons and most people will be fine or don’t even know they have it so why is THE MEDIA making everyone freak out and buy toilet paper to last until Christmas?

These arguments from exasperated acquaintances on social media are troubling me. The state of Costco shelves and price gouging of Purell tells us that a LOT of people are heeding warnings and preparing to hunker down. A candid picture from Teddy’s glee club performance (which should have been canceled, but we’ll get to that) caught a kid coughing into the crook of his arm. So maybe a little bit of hysteria is a good thing? I mean, for the first time in history, men are washing their hands after peeing? But there are plenty of articles, cable news talking heads, a sizable fraction of your Facebook friends (and occasionally our own political leaders) who insist this “hype” is overblown nonsense.

They’re wrong.

First, all of us should unearth our binders from favorite college professors and revisit the definition of false equivalence. Arguments comparing COVID-19 with other diseases—diseases that have vaccines and medicines and data and more history on the planet than a handful of months—are not valid. If we shouldn’t be overly concerned with COVID-19 because the flu also kills lots of people, does it follow that we can quit reminding women to get mammograms all of October because heart disease is actually more common? That’s how false equivalence arguments fail. Further, calling fear of a probable pandemic “hypocritical” when a person’s daily life does not already include safeguards against more common ailments is just unhelpful when it isn’t unkind. Finally, insisting this virus with a “low” mortality rate is not worthy of travel bans, event cancelations, and school closures entirely ignores a really enormous and valuable and loved set of people at real risk of dying.

The CDC put together this comparison to staunch flu-is-like-COVID-19 arguments… and why I’m worried about veteran teachers, grandparents, and most people in our church pews.

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Since I wrote the last essay, my phone has been binging regularly with requests for advice. Bernie saw patients well beyond his office hours on Friday because everyone wanted his medical opinion on their travel plans and to discuss their relative risk. Should my parents come to the kids’ piano recitals? Should we go to Europe for Spring Break? Can I take the boys to the YMCA pool? Are you going to the PTA meeting? Can we go to the basketball game? Can we fly to Colorado to go skiing? The answer to all of these is no.

No no no no no.

COVID-19 isn’t a snowstorm. A rapidly spreading virus cannot be approached with the same sliced bread and bottled water hoarding preparation. We should not be trying to fit all of the activities in before it “really hits.” It’s here, people. Our churches, classrooms, stadiums, yoga studios, airplanes, and grocery stores are black ice. We’re already at risk because we failed to heed the warnings from Wuhan to be vigilant. I find this quote from Mike Leavitt, former Health and Human Services Secretary particularly poignant:

“Everything we do before a pandemic will seem alarmist. Everything we do after will seem inadequate.”

The only way to protect yourself and your family is with good hygiene, by limiting your errands to those where you can stay 6 feet away from people, or by just staying home. Is this impractical? Yes, for a lot of people. Yes, but it is also all we have. And kind of guessing that everything will be ok and this will just die out as the weather gets warmer isn’t really how viruses work. Behavior modification is the only way to prevent widespread dissemination of a disease that could kill a significant number of our cancer patients, grandparents, disabled friends, and asthmatics. If you can afford to miss things—especially if you are over 60 and/or have other health issues—please do that. Stay home. Your pets will love you even more, and you’ll stay healthy.

It should be telling that medical professionals are canceling meetings daily. Residency interviews are being held via Skype. Morbidity and mortality conferences are on hold. Faculty dinners are being rescheduled. As a division chief, every day Bernie has another cancellation to consider, and continually chooses to limit exposure. He passed on the Celtics game last night because he has cancer patients who are relying on him. We’re canceling our trip to London because those same patients will need to reschedule their operations (and caregiver and child care plans) should he get quarantined. It seems reasonable for an otherwise healthy person to risk COVID-19 exposure because for 80% of patients the course will be mild. But what if your exposure risk leaves you quarantined for two weeks? How many other people and their livelihood will be affected by your forced absence? And should you become infected, how many of your close contacts are people in the very high risk category? In that light, is the glee club choir assembly really worth it?

We should all be weighing what is “worth” the risk right now very heavily, especially if you have the luxury of opting out of things that, let’s face it, really aren’t all that critical. In lieu of any “herd immunity” to protect us (since none of us is immune), the best we can do for those of us who cannot afford to miss work or take public transportation right now is to reduce their exposure. Drive to Vermont to ski instead of flying to the Rockies. Videotape the piano recital. Watch the Celtics on TV. Not forever… just for now. We cannot discount the potential spread of COVID-19 as we would an exuberant StormWatch meteorologist tracking a Nor’Easter that could easily be just a dusting. COVID-19 is here, it’s spreading, and it only looks like a few scattered flurries now because we have yet to do any sort of adequate testing or data acquisition.

But there’s black ice out there, people. The WHO has listed its first objective to “interrupt human to human transmission…” so let’s help them do that when we can.

 

 

Go, and Do Likewise– COVID-19 and Kindness

Casual conversation, Facebook and Twitter threads, and the occasional bad joke indicate that Americans are already experiencing fatigue from media panic around the coronavirus epidemic. Citing statistics to suggest influenza is “worse” and admonishing the press for fear-mongering when only a few thousand people have died are, well, really bad takes on this. When an old friend innocently queried his Facebook buddies if we (Americans, I guess?) should be freaking out, most in the thread agreed that this is mostly media hype.

Um… no.

Let’s start with xenophobia, and then we can get into the immunology and medical stuff.

Three weeks ago, the Globe ran a story about anti-Chinese racism experienced by students since the epidemic began. I asked my boys if they were hearing any bad jokes (or let’s be honest, checking to see if Teddy was making any) when my husband piped up that it had happened to him already.

It was a crowded elevator in the hospital. Bernie was wearing his ID (and probably a freakin’ bow tie) and entered the lift with his team. “Are you… um… feeling OK?” she asked. Taken aback, he said he answered noncommittally, but everyone knew what she meant. He wasn’t flushed, feverish, or rolling luggage plastered with Wuhan stickers. The only way he looked… was Asian.

We spent a large part of the night giggling with the kids and crafting humorous, nasty, goofy, and smug responses to bank for future elevator-type inquiries. But I argued that if people are terrified enough to be casually racist toward a DOCTOR in a HOSPITAL, maybe the best response is kindness. Or, you know, just saying, “I’m not Chinese.”

Three weeks later, in spite of an alarming spread to 24 infected countries, there is an air of conspiracy about COVID-19 on this side of the Atlantic. It’s a Chinese bioweapon. It wouldn’t exist if Asians didn’t eat weird food. A quarter million people have died and China is covering it up. These theories all share the same theme: coronavirus is something that is happening to other people. And those people are a half a planet away and maybe eat bats and probably their government is lying and plus there’s, like, a billion of them. A since deleted Facebook comment said the virus was just culling “low hanging fruit.” This was meant to be funny.

Do we typically crack jokes and make silly memes when people are dying? Maybe this is who we have become. But after 20 years married into an Asian family with kids that don’t look white, as the TikTok teens would say, “this one be hittin’ different.” I jumped into my friend’s Facebook feed to share what the experts are telling us about COVID-19, but I didn’t write what I was really feeling. I didn’t admit that your, “it’s just a virus, calm down” sounds brutally insensitive to me. If COVID-19 is just virus that (so far) is killing mostly Asians… who cares? (I’m guessing its spread to Iran will garner a similar lack of sympathy.)

We may never learn the origin of this virus, or how it jumped from animals to humans, but let me tell you really loudly: IT DOESN’T MATTER. What does matter is that coronavirus is very contagious and coronavirus kills people. What does matter is that it is spreading at an alarming rate and there is no vaccine, no known drug treatment, and (over here) few kits to test for it. Most people (80%) will have a mild course of the disease and data show that until we have a system for identifying and isolating them, they won’t present for treatment for two weeks—two weeks while their viral load doubles daily and they are feeling well enough to ride subways, go to school, eat at restaurants, and infect at least 10% of their close contacts.

The scariness is not in the lethality of the virus, but its scale. Around 13% of infected individuals will endure a more severe course and 6% will be critical enough to require mechanical ventilation. If we cannot keep the sheer number of infected patients low enough, there simply won’t be enough hospital beds and ventilators to go around.

During a two hour debrief and Q&A on the WHO site, the leader of the fact-finding trip paints a picture of Chinese hospitals KICKING ASS at containing what will certainly be called a pandemic. They built a 1000 bed hospital in mere days. They shut down the entire city and created a culture of awareness that has reduced the time a contagious patient is at large in the community from 15 days to 3. Outlying cities mobilized entire medical teams and all of their equipment to go into Wuhan to treat patients and staunch the mortality rate. Bruce Aylward, the WHO expert who just returned from China, confessed that if he contracted the disease, he would want to be treated there.

China learned from the SARS epidemic ten years ago and had some preparations and plans in place. We are woefully unprepared. As I write this, COVID-19 has reached California, and this patient has no known ties to China or close contacts of infected individuals. It’s here now, and it is only a matter of time before we need to implement the transmission lessening tactics that we have not even begun to teach.

Here’s what we do know and what you can do. First, most patients suffering from COVID-19 will report a history of fatigue, malaise, and body aches; 88% will have a fever, 66% will have a dry cough, but only 4% report a runny nose. This is not an upper respiratory disease. Test kits so far have been hard to get and unstable. In China, CT scans are being used to identify a pathognomonic pattern of the pneumonia that can progress in a significant number of patients—a wildly expensive prospect if we need to scan thousands here.

Based on studies of other coronavirus strains, scientists report that it could live on surfaces up to 9 days. Forget masks for now, and Chlorox wipe your counters. Coughing etiquette (into the crook of your arm), frequent hand washing, and strict vigilance about exposing others if you have a fever (and prompt reporting) are simple things we can do now. Chinese citizens have been incredible about self-quarantining, and in public they maintain the 2 meter rule of how close you are allowed to get to others.

Some epidemiologists are estimating ultimately 40 to 70% of the population of the planet could be infected. I repeat, there is no vaccine and no treatment, therefore, no way to stop the spread of the disease aside from behavior modification. However, statistics show that 80% of those infected will be OK. Many won’t ever know they ever contracted COVID-19. For yet unknown reasons, children seem to be less affected than older patients, but co-morbidities like underlying diseases, smoking and vaping, and immunosuppression more often lead to respiratory and even multi-organ failure. If there was ever a time to convince teens to put down their vape pens, it’s now.

Should we be panicking? No. The vast majority of us will not die from this infection even if most of us ultimately contract it. But the “othering” of the disease and the refusal to recognize what it is and how it will affect all of us is unhelpful and insensitive. Replace your beer bottle memes with useful facts, recognize that “only” a small percentage of deaths are of real people with valuable lives and families that are devastated, and pray for the health care workers everywhere who will take care of us in spite of the risk to themselves.

And wash your hands.

Prayer for Healing

 

 

 

The Neighborhood

When the boys were very small and in car seats, I did all of the driving. The boys tortured me daily with the always something demands of toddlers (Help me! Watch this!), but even when they were pre-verbal they knew I was off limits when I was behind the wheel. Driving a half a day in traffic to visit family over holiday weekends was far easier than sitting in the back seat with them and tending to their oscillating requests, meltdowns, and ill timed poops. Similarly, the puppy has learned to take a rest or find a toy when I’m at the laptop. It’s an easy break from the always something demands of a tiny dog (Take me out! Play with me! Rub my belly. Love me love me love me!), but this morning I woke up with a fever of 102 and the only way I can get a respite from this dog is to feign productivity at the keyboard. So here I am. Writing about the puppy. Again.

After one month with this little guy, I’ve gotten to know the neighborhood much better. We’ve lived in this house for 13 years, but I haven’t taken many walks around the block. Now, it’s a twice a day thing and even if I haven’t made fast friends with new neighbors (this is New England and the stereotypes hold), I’m getting to know the Dogs of Princeton Road. Because Hero is a puppy and also THE BEST DOG IN THE WORLD, he wants to say hello hello hello hi hi hi to everybody. But because he isn’t fully immunized yet, he cannot do this with the dogs. This hasn’t stopped me from inventing nicknames and backstories for all of them, anyway.

Barks-a-Lot spends most of the time fenced in outside and based on Hero’s reaction to this fearsome pooch, his woof woof woof roughly translates as, “If I ever get outta here, I’m coming for you first.” There is Prancing Pooper (whose owner does NOT curb her animal) and that haughty bitch won’t even look at us. Yesterday we met a goldendoodle wearing a Patriot’s t-shirt and a tutu and I swear she told Hero, “I hope we can be friends in spite of this outfit.”

There are a lot of regular walkers in these parts, and now that I have become that person, I take a minor and fleeting offence when they won’t pause to pet Hero when he is straining at the leash and pleading with them to love him for a second. Even if they are allergic (as I am) or terrified of dogs (understandable), many don’t even acknowledge that we are sharing a street. Yesterday’s substitute mailman heard Hero whining and yelled from two doors down, “You talkin’ to me little guy? I’m coming over to meet you!” and then did. He’s my kind of people. So are the 9-year-old twins who now live in the Miller’s old house who told me they would “take care of Hero any time… FOR FREE.” I wonder what time they get home from school.

Hero is now a sleepy foyer lump and if I’m really quiet, he won’t notice me transferring from the laptop to the couch. I was a little panicked about spending an entire day alone with an almost but not entirely trained puppy while wondering if I have the flu. But like the boys in car seats on a road trip, I swear this pup senses I need a bit of a break today. Do dogs do that? Who knows. But this one is getting all of the good treats.

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Those People

As we enter our 4th week of puppy parenting/training/love-struck ownership, I realize we have become those people. Doggie treat dust lines all of our jacket pockets. Bernie and I share Hero’s new tricks with excitement equivalent to Teddy’s first swim without the Styrofoam floatie.

Have you seen him FAKE PEE for a treat? IS THERE ANY DOG SMARTER OR CUTER.

I already have a catalog of doggie ditties that accompany mundane tasks, and start each new day singing, “Good Morning, Mr. Wiggles.” I have a dog with an Instagram (@miniberniedoodlelee).

We. Are. Those. People.

To anyone who asks (bless you, fellow dog nutters), I will gush about how thoroughly unprepared I was for living with a puppy. And it has nothing to do with poop, and everything to do with love. We’re all just happier. There are teeny teeth marks on stairs and coffee tables, and we don’t care. Stuff is just stuff. Things on the calendar we’re not looking forward to? Cancel. Hero is taking a nap? Might as well shut my eyes for a spell. I take 26 walks around the yard and neighborhood every day. IN JANUARY. Vitamin D mixed with puppy magic is making dark days of winter so much brighter.

Mere months ago I was an eye-rolling jerk-face when lovely people got all mushy about their pets and now I routinely baby-talk rhetorical questions to a small fur ball. “Who’s the cutest doggie in the world? Hero, Hero, HERO!” (That one is also in the puppy playlist of made up songs.) Last weekend because Hero was napping and we missed him, Bernie and I scrolled through other Bernedoodle Instagram accounts to predict how big our best boy will become. When I hear, “Mom, mom, mom, LOOK!” 138 times a day, it’s no longer a 2nd grader with a Lego creation. Now it’s a teenager who doesn’t want me to miss Hero sleeping with his favorite duckie toy or sneezing for the first time (which frankly, puts the cute-o-meter on tilt).

Those. People.

Hero came with me to Bible Study today. Though I was worried he’d christen the Old Parish House with excrement, he only greeted a dozen Christian women with unbridled enthusiasm—hi hi hi hi love me pet me love me– and then fell asleep in my arms. Alyson called him “furry blood pressure medicine.” But the quote of the day was from Father Mike: “Puppies make you realize that Love is not a zero sum game” and then assured me that it didn’t matter if Hero punctuated the Gospel of John with puppy piddle. Pretty sure Lees (and now Hero!) belong to a Church full of… those people.

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And Hero is his name

The decade has seen us weather the toddler to teen years, from kindergarten to high school. Facebook memories from 2009 portray an exhausted mom who yearned for adult conversation and bubbly. A fairly big chunk of the 2010s included diagnosis, treatment, recovery, and the never-ending aftermath of breast cancer. The past few years, Lees agonized over standardized testing, essay writing, and the sleep-depriving anxiety that accompanies high school admissions. Stevie navigated divorce, dating, neuropathy, migraines, college application stress for three children, and got cancer. More recently (because God is good) he’s experienced the miracle of new love and marriage. Steve wrote about all of these moments candidly and with humor. More often, I just complained about cardio. Our shared bloggy pursuits even went viral twice this decade. As 2020 begins, there is more good than awful in the accounting, but we’ll take “boring” for the next 10 years, please.

Boring, it won’t be. In the dark days surrounding the solstice, the Lees felt keenly bereft of joy. The stress of the holidays piggybacking onto an overly long and expensive home renovation project and three (minor, but still) car accidents and midterm exams plus a brief but serious consideration of a new job and move was enough already. Taking a hard look at all of the hard work all of us were doing—board meetings, conference calls, Latin declensions, concussions and cross country meets, fundraising, editing, international meetings, and too much travel that did not include umbrella drinks– we realized there wasn’t a lot of FUN happening. And so in what appears like the Lee Family’s Most Impulsive Move, we got a dog.

Decidedly not boring.

After years of insisting that I “am allergic” and “refuse to pick up poop” and “will never budge,” we got a puppy. A tiny, sort of hypoallergenic (y’all are really overselling this notion), absolutely adorable mini Bernedoodle is sleeping at my feet right now. Is this just more work? Maybe. But with teenagers doing the lion’s share of puppy play and taking the night shift, so far it seems like we adopted a big dose of joy in the softest, cutest, littlest package. And Hero is his name.

My boys went back to school today. On the 2nd, because their school is totally finger horns metal when it comes to the calendar. When Brodie brought a whimpering puppy to me at 4:30am, asking me sweetly to take over, I did this happily… but I’m still drinking coffee in jammies and have been up for FIVE HOURS. Am I counting the minutes until they get home? Maybe. Is Hero checking couches for napping humans because so far that’s all he’s seen us do? Yup. But those of you who are likening this stage to having another baby never experienced Brodie as a baby. This is hardly the lonely and exhausting time suck that was stay at home parenting with a newborn. And I could probably take Hero with me to get a pedicure. Perspective.

It was thought- and conversation-provoking timing to get a tiny new family member as the decade closed on such a huge portion of my boys’ lives. Will it be so sad to leave Hero when they go to college? Will Hero be alive when they get married? What will life look and be like in 2030? For the first time since my boys began high school, and now a handful of their friends started college visits and dove deep into application stress, we’re looking at the future with more what if/what’s next optimism. As my boys focus less on have-to’s and more on could-be’s, Bernie and I are clearing the calendar of stuff that doesn’t really need to be on it. We have a sleepy, fun, soft, love me love me love me puppy to Instagram. Together. And that makes him a Hero, indeed.

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Please note my utter RESTRAINT in only posting one puppy pic

Smangry… by Steve Safran

How could he insult me, unprovoked, for the second time this year? He can’t really be this upset, I thought, reading a smug and angry (smangry?) comment to a joke I posted on Twitter. I mean, this isn’t some random troll—it’s my cousin. How did we get here? Why?

Because of Donald Trump, that’s why.

Since 2016 we’ve all read about family reunions stressed, friendships tested, and social media relationships obliterated because of the man who occupies the presidency. Today, I felt it keenly. I’ve only muted or “un-friended” two people in my entire social media history of 12+ years. One was a relative who made an outrageously homophobic slur. And today– my own cousin.

It hurts my heart that someone with whom I’ve shared genes and family dinners would set out to insult me. Publicly. But like too many people these days who react emotionally to opposing political views, the insult felt personal and on purpose. My cousin has become very sensitive to criticism of Trump. And on this historic day that the House impeached the president, I made a tame observational joke on Twitter:

“When history asks Tulsi Gubbard where she was when the House voted to impeach Trump, she will be able to say, loudly and clearly, “There!”

Not much of a joke, frankly. (WA-wa.) It had a shelf life of maybe 30 minutes. And note– it wasn’t even an attack on Trump. I don’t generally say a lot about the president on social media. It’s boring. There’s so much more interesting material to talk about. Like pants.

But my tweet raised some hackles. I will not reprint his reply, as I would never do so without permission, and I ain’t asking for permission. In short, he defended Tulsi and insulted the Democratic leadership with not particularly clever, off-color nicknames.

Mute.

This is disappointing and upsetting because I love debate. I think back to life at Trinity College in the ‘80s and the great debates that happened in classes, and likely less great but just as entertaining back-and forths late at night with friends. I especially remember one debate where, after a good half hour, an exasperated challenger finally said “YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY BELIEVE THAT!” and I responded, “Of course I don’t.”

The debate was the point.

Debate is to civics as testing is to the scientific method. Positions need to be examined for logic and merit, and public discourse is the “bench research” that generates data that lead to solid conclusions. Testing works well in a lab because the conditions are controlled (and because lab rats don’t ask you who you voted for). However, we have lost any attempt at control, or the ability to debate properly. Instead, debate has become argument. People are throwing lab rats against the wall and insisting rodents can fly.

Insults and arguments are the enemy of debate. True debate leaves both parties smarter. I may not agree with your position at the end but, dammit, I hope I learned more than when we started. Even if no new facts were uncovered, I now know something about you and your worldview. And that enriches me. Debate is at the core of this country. The great Enlightenment thinkers’ debates led to our founding documents. They didn’t sit around calling each other “Wacky John Locke” and “Fathead Thomas Hobbes.” Then again, they didn’t have Twitter.

I hope the children and young adults are learning the art of debate in schools and on college campuses. I hope they are engaging in better exchanges than what is being demonstrated on cable news channels and in Facebook comment threads. We have to learn how to disagree respectfully. We cannot continue divided, launching “smangry” comments into the ether, and harming our relationships with each other. To do so is to declare failure on the American Experiment. And that is the most important theory being tested right now. Insults and party-line adherence at all costs will only speed our failure.

Rat cartoon