So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 4/13/2020
I’m hungry, I’m gonna make pancakes with the coconut flour I got from the Farmers Mart in Littlerock. Yesterday I made a Strawberry pie with almond flour and strawberries purchased from a vendor on Pearblossom HWY, in the middle of nowhere.
$16 for a huge box.They are very good.
I forgot to tell you, on my way outta Lancaster, (the dregs of the world) I passed a facility that had drive-in corona virus testing.
Since I feel I had, (have) it. I thought it would be a good idea to get professional confirmation. I made a U-ey and drove into the huge parking structure with signs that read-
ENTER HERE, NOT HERE-EXIT HERE-NOT HERE.
There’s this theme about Lancaster, (and desert cities in general) everything is oversized and spread out. Ok, they have the space,
but what’s wrong with civilization being concentrated, thus leaving some desert untouched? Does everything have to be paved? This parking lot is the size of Costco, with 0, as in ZERO patients. I was the only person there. At first I thought it was abandoned, all these makeshift plastic tents, hand sanitizer stands that don’t work and “do not cross” tape stretched out everywhere. Then I saw one lone human being in a Hazmat suit looking like the bored survivor as the last person on earth.
She jumps up to attention when I drove up. I think I was her first customer, ever.
“Hallo, I said through my black face-mask, can I get tested?” She didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever asked her that before. “Are you symptomatic?” She finally said through her muffled protective gear. “On March 22nd I had all the classic symptoms I’d read about, I slowly responded, my body ached in areas I wasn’t accustomed, I had a splitting headache, later that evening my breathing became belabored, it was hard to catch my breath and I felt like I was gonna have a heart attack. I would’ve called someone, or gone somewhere, but there’s nowhere to go. I weathered thru, finally pulling out of it the following day. Since then I’ve counted five bouts, each time with less severity.” She looked perplexed, she also looked like she was fifteen. “Ok, I’m going to call a doctor, you can’t go into the facility until you’re screened here.” Where? I thought.. It’s a plastic tent, with one oxygen tank, and one child in a Hazmat suit sitting behind a folding table with xeroxed pamphlets. “Please stand behind the line to observe social-distancing,” she says ever so politely. “What line?” I ask. “Over there," she says. “Here”? I asked. “Yes," she says contently. I had moved two feet behind the hand sanitizer stand that didn’t work. I tried it.
After awhile a man comes walking out wearing a white lab coat, mask and clear visor. He looks like Doctor Terwilliger from a children's cartoon. “OK, he says, tell me everything about your symptoms.” I repeat what I just told the candy striper, but elaborate more about the following bouts. “Each one was lesser in severity, I said calmly, the last bout was last night when my breathing was belabored,
and my throat was sore. I had allot of mucus.” The doctor looks at me blankly. “Are you having trouble breathing right now?” Not at this exact moment,” I say. “There’s not much we can do for you. If you had severe symptoms were could hook you up to a breathing device, but we don’t have that capability here. We’d have to send you somewhere else. You should not be out and about,” he reprimands. “I had to get food, and then I came here," I respond. “Exactly," he chastises. “Can I get tested? I ask. “We don’t have that capability here," says the actor, I mean doctor.
I have to tell you dear readers, the parking lot is vast. There were two tents set up for what looked to be ready for as many victims as the battle of Atlanta, in Gone With The Wind. There were only three of us. A child in a Hazmat suit, a man who acted like a doctor character outta Benny Hill, and the supposed patient, ME!
He walks back into the safety of his medical office. I must mention the entire time he was talking to me he was coughing!… All this equipment and set up must be expensive. Who’s paying for it? If I hadn't experienced this farce in real time, I would think it was a bad SNL skit. The little girl gives me xeroxed pamphlets that tell me nothing I couldn’t find on the most basic Google search of COVID19… on Foxnews. She asked me for my phone #, but was thrown off because I had an area code she didn’t recognize.
Defeated, I left and went home to the comfort and false security of Bee’s cabin.
BTW, my coconut flour pancakes were a disaster. I threw them away.
So this is how the world will end.
copyright-rick castro- 4/2020
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