The Sacrificial Generation

These are strange times. The world is shutdown and all we can do is look to each other.

Babies are still being born just like the flowers are blooming. Folks still eat and sleep and wake up the next day to do it all over again, but now it is different.

Kids can’t go out and play ball after home schooling. Going out means driving thru the drive thru. Sports are ancient history and the laundry is piling up. Those little quirks are becoming annoying and taking the dog for a walk is a vacation. Gas is cheap but there is no place to go. You flip off your boss when you get an email about the last report then realize your computer camera is still on.

Everyday the numbers of those who have been tested and those who have been hospitalized come across the screen. Lately the numbers of dead also include the numbers who have recovered, but they don’t say what a recovery is.

Like any disease or plague or whatever you want to call it, the weak will suffer the most.

Which brings us to the ‘assisted living’ facilities. Like the poor and the indigenous people, this is where we warehouse the old folk….

The idea of triage is to the assignment of degrees of urgency to wounds or illnesses to decide the order of treatment of a large number of patients or casualties.

Unfortunately I’m now in the category of the sacrificial lamb generation. If there is one ventilator or even a vaccination to assist your immune system, a doctor must decide between two patients.

I’m not in a Holiday Camp yet but a fall or heart murmur could get me there. I’m used to two wheels and not four, beside those places are full of old people.

We all die alone, just like we are all born alone (except for twins, but one comes out first)