Ida Done Things Differently (page 3)
“‘Social distancing.’” Pastor shook his head. “GOD distancing is what they’re doing!”
I can’t believe I hesitated coming here tonight. Ida was almost ashamed of herself. Look at them. They almost got to me! That Dr. Fauci. I can’t believe I almost trusted him. Him! Laughing at the President behind his back. On national television! That should have clued me in right away.
Oh and the people at the grocery store today. Carts filled up with cans and boxes. And the toilet paper! And I saw the way that boy in line ahead of me looked at me. How he moved just as far away from me as he could.
Oh no! Don’t come near me! I have the corona virus! Thank God I’m in church. I can’t imagine what would happen if I’d have coughed in the supermarket. Probably would have had me thrown out of the store. I am an American citizen.
The President said this was going to be over soon. And not that many people have gotten sick anyway. They say anyone could carry it. Well, everyone knows you have to have a fever to be contagious. It’s like everyone’s forgot what’s what.
“And how has this impacted us?” Pastor asked. “It’s made people afraid to give. At a time when you should be giving the most. I’m not asking you to give for me. I’m wanting you to give for yourself. Because God will honor a cheerful, faithful giver. And if you don’t have faith, I’m sorry, I don’t want your money. Your money is poison to me. God don’t want it either. But giving in faith and love to the one true God is a spiritual investment in your physical future. Let me say that again! A spiritual investment. In your physical future. Isn’t God good?”
Yes, He is.
“God will use this quote unquote crisis to build your faith. The Word says He will take care of you. Don’t you want to take God at His word?”
Ida coughed again. The man to her right turned to look at her. She just smiled a reply.
“Listening to the Lord is a choice. Time for you to choose, brothers and sisters. Are you going to choose fear? Or are you going to choose God?”
I choose God.
Ida woke suddenly. She brought her hand to her the neck of her nightgown.
It was true. No wonder she was cold. Her nightgown was as damp as if it had just come out of the spin cycle.
There was a small nagging sensation, just playing at the corners of her mind.
But it felt like something.
I choose God.
“No, we have plenty of tests. And you’re in a high risk group and you’re showing symptoms, so of course we’re going to test you. Do you live alone?”
The nurse was a heavy woman. How heavy Ida couldn’t tell. She was wearing a green paper jumpsuit that looked inflated. Ida didn’t know if it was girth or air. The nurse touched her with gloved hands. When Ida saw the length of the swab the nurse was going to run up her nose, she almost changed her mind. But the nurse moved quickly and, before Ida knew it, the girl was practically scraping her brain, she was in there so deep. Her face was close to Ida’s, the nurse’s large clear plastic visor a barrier between them.
“Yes. My husband passed away several years ago.”
“Good.” The nurse spasmed. “I mean not good that he passed away several years ago! I mean good you live alone. It’s safer that way.”
What am I supposed to do?
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Just wait. We should have your test results back in five days.”
“Yeah, it takes that long.” Her body language indicated she was finished with Ida. Now Ida was just another old person she’d seen today. Next! “And don’t worry. Many of our patients just feel terrible for a few days. Some don’t feel that bad at all. But if you feel short of breath, you need to come to the hospital. Don’t wait for your test results. If you have to come, come. And no ibuprofen. Just rest, plenty of fluids, everything you’d do with a normal flu. Because it could just be that. Run-of-the-mill flu.”
That’s exactly what it is.
I feel fine.
She looked at her cell phone. She’d been on with Kevin for four minutes.
I shouldn’t have told him.
“I’m fine. I feel fine.”