#Beyourself, #dadflu, #manflu, #coronavirus, #lifestylechoices, #southsideguylifestyle, #dadbodinevitable, #dadbod, #dabears, #chicago, #southside, #southsidechicago, Coronavirus Southside Chicago, parenting struggles, Yoga Pants

The Moron Twins

One of the symptoms found when you Google coronavirus SHOULD be •acute onset of stupidity•dumb•moronic•

This is a valid & real symptom that no one seems to discuss. The brain fog of covid is no joke. Therefore, I feel compelled to share this with everyone in hopes I can save a few marriages from separation or worst case scenario…murder. 😜

If I was to get married now, post Covid, I would definitely rewrite my vows.

I, (state your name) take you, (lucky bastard) to be my lawfully wedded (husband), to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health*** (see below addendum) , until death do us part.

***Addendum: Questionable. This excludes THE SICKNESS of Covid-19 aka coronavirus. With all due respect Reverend, I can’t be held responsible for this shit show. I will take this up with Lord when my time comes.

Perhaps many have endured the coronavirus as a couple and thought nothing of it. This was not the case for me, as usual.

As I am grateful we all were positive for Covid simultaneously and I was blessed with: 1. Having no sense of smell which came in handy when some were ripping ass left and right.😂

2. Having no taste made eating less enjoyable, (chewing cardboard isn’t much fun; therefore we didn’t eat a lot so no one gained weight.)

3. Initially assuming my feeling like I was hit by a truck, plus paranoia, anxiety and feeling overwhelmed was due monthly hormonal symptoms. I felt guilty for my statements and behavior. Getting diagnosed with coronavirus* gave me permission to be as mean as I wanted but able to use covid as an excuse. 😜. (*oh yea-I had my period and covid at the same time-wtf)

5. Lastly, possessing no memory, decision- making skills or energy: I did NOT have to cook, clean or exercise at ALL for two weeks.

ME: Is this chicken bad?” Kids: “I don’t know. I can’t smell.” ME: “Me neither. I don’t remember how long it’s been in the fridge.” Screw it, let’s get Jimmy John’s…again.

Notice I did not mention husband/father in above example. 👆🏻Unfortunately Dad was unable to leave the bed from April 3rd until April 10th. He was literally knocked.out.cold. by this virus. He dragged self to bathroom to only shower or shit his brains out.

The three of us kinda felt bad for him, however considering all four of us were positive for covid; we would casually joke downstairs about this being “The Dad-Flu”. I showed my kids the parody skits on you tube about the “Man-Flu”.

Us adults received a z-pack and steroids for the bronchial issues. I administered these to him and myself plus vitamins, emergen-c packets, tea, soup etc. I felt better within two days; he was worse. He remained perpetually freezing and bundled up; which led to sweating profusely and changing clothes frequently.

The kids stopped talking to him completely because he wasn’t making any sense. 👆🏻He could not eat because he was so nauseous. After taking famotidine (Pepcid) for 7 days, the nausea finally subsided for Dad, but the chills continued. Wearing a long sleeved underarmour shirt, long sleeved t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt with the hood up, sweatpants, thick socks, yet still freezing…Dad emerged from the bedroom.

So there Dad is, walking in slow motion hooded, unshaven, gaunt and miserable. He resembled the polish version of Eminem.

He kept mumbling to me and when I replied; he could not hear me:

COVID DINNER CONVERSATION. Me: My name is
Him: What?
Me: My name is
Him:Who?
Me: My name is
Him: Huh?
Why can’t you fucking hear me?
Me: My name is
Him: What?Excuse me Me: Just forget it. Meanwhile mumbling under my breath “Stolat” and downing a shot of spiritus.
-Eminem (paraphrased Eminem;)

I make him a dinner plate, tea and ask him if he needs anything else. He shakes his hooded head no. I sit back down, ravenous and start shoveling in the random food.

Him: “Would you get me a knife?”

🤬🤬🤬🤬 We are BOTH positive for COVID sitting at the same table-the same distance from the utensil drawer. This sets me off.

I replied to his knife request, “HOW BOUT I JUST CALL YOU AN AMBULANCE?” Cuz you need to GTFOH.

He replies, “What?” 

I laugh in disbelief, shaking my head at the audacity. I reply softly in an eerie whisper: “Cmon, you can get a knife, it’s five steps.”

Oddly he hears my creepy whisper. He reluctantly stands, walks as if he is walking through water and fetches a knife for himself. 🙄

What I think is happening👆🏻

I give him Alka seltzer cold and he seems to feel a little better. He made a comment about how sick he is and accused me of “Muchasen’s by proxy”. I laughed hysterically at this allegation and think he is turning around. I never wanted him to make fun of me so badly in my life.

This is short lived. He is up all night coughing and gasping for air. I make him wear his sleep apnea machine mask despite his outlandish claims that it makes him sweat more. I threaten him with opening the window. The sheer panic in his face 😬 made me almost feel bad. (Try living with hot flashes year round bitch ass). He surrenders and wears it.

The next morning, when he stands up, he is struggling to breathe. I text my nurse friends and the doctor. All say “If he cannot breathe, bring him to the ER.” I was apprehensive because I haven’t driven or talked to another adult in seven days. I am greeted by security. No sound comes out of my mouth. I have zero recollection of what to say. I blurt out single words like a toddler, “Covid!” & “Wheelchair!” He could not hear, talk or barely walk. Two idiots. 👇🏻

Us on way to the ER👆🏻

In triage, I notice he cannot hear the nurse either. So he was not messing with me. 🤔When he does answer her questions, his answers don’t make sense. Then they bring him back and advise me that I am not allowed to stay because he is a covid patient. A beaming creepy smile 😃 emerged on my face. Hallefuckinglujah I need a break.

I felt guilty for being so happy, but it was overwhelming relief I was not his nurse anymore.

He has an ECG, chest x-ray, cat-scan, & labs; which are all within range. His cat-scan shows the beginning of mild Pneumonia (aka covid lung) which is common for covid. He is discharged with a z-pack, inhaler, and a cough prevention medication with orders of “just let the virus run its course. Keep checking the pulse ox, if it goes below 90, come back.”

He is frustrated and is becoming anxious. The normal, unfortunate reality and fears hit him hard. Fears about about going back to work. Fears about how is he going to function at work. Fears that he is draining his vacation time. The terrible “what if’s” are frightening. I inevitably begin to feel scared as well. Thankfully my defense mechanisms kick in.👇🏻

He is unable to leave the bed again for two more days and is still struggling to breathe. The pulse ox dropped to 88, 82 and 78 when he stood up. His doctor said to go to ER immediately. He is then admitted for five days for double pneumonia. He is discharged and does not seem much better. The nurse and doctor advise that it is “a very slow recovery.”

He was a wreck post hospital, we felt so bad for him. He was so understandably confused. He used four weeks of vacation time. He had to see a pulmonologist. He now has fibrosis, scarring in his lungs, that require nebulizer twice a day still. Obviously compared to many individuals, this is mild and we are lucky.

The point of my discussing this and violating his privacy 😜: He’s 48 years old, no prior medical problems, he does not smoke or drink. He works 12 hour days, goes to bed at 9pm every night even on weekends. He wakes up at 4:30am for work. This is where the WHY comes in. Why did it hit him so hard?

He teases me that I: O.H. (over-hydrate) & O.V. (over-vitamin). 😂 At times he is annoyed with me that I prioritize my mental health and physical health before anyone else; even my kids. I leave the house a mess and go workout first, always. He states that our cabinet looks like a pharmacy:

I see his point, however my outlook is not necessarily the norm around these parts when it comes to health and exercise.

If you ain’t full, you got nothin to give anyone else. Translation:”You cannot pour from an empty beer bottle, guys.”

Kelly Durnelly. Mtg Hooder 1974-2004

Besides being the most tired man in America, he has never been “sick” more than a day as long as I’ve known him. It is very puzzling WHY. Was he just unlucky? Genetics? Stress? I could be 100% wrong, but I do believe some things could have contributed to how bad it hit him. The suggestions made by all the doctor all were to stay ahead of hydration, take vitamins D, C & Zinc daily, and rest/sleep.

Perhaps if some do this before contracting covid, maybe it won’t affect a person as severely. 🤷🏻‍♀️ If you or anyone you know exhibits one-two symptoms on below list, forward this to them immediately. Maybe they will listen to me.

Southside Guy Lifestyle Criteria: 👇🏻

https://quillankelly-dunn.com/2021/05/12/southside-guy-lifestyle/

Autism, Uncategorized, Women's Fight

The Eye on the Sparrow (Part Three)

Once ML (Mom-Lady) grasped the job and had some good days at work, she calmed down and was able to become MF (Mom-Friend) again. MF was able to recognize how her anxiety literally hijacked her brain and her fear of feeling inadequate or stupid triggered some massive shame.  MF also reluctantly went back to counseling and shifted her mindset; coming up with a “new normal” about her dreams for her family.

MF always had a hilarious spin on everything. Her impressions of people were on point and she had our coworkers, doctors and even patients erupting with laughter. Most of all, her therapeutic interventions with patients were professional, empathetic and real. She was extremely compassionate and went above and beyond with each patient. MF had the patients laughing and sometimes was able to “roll with” where ever our patients were. If the patient needed to sing, she would sing with them. If they needed to pray, she prayed with them. She danced with patients in the hallways if that is what they needed to do.

Some of her escapades with patients led to some hysterical stories, hashtagable phrases and our team developed an almost secret language of inside jokes. This “language” originated it seemed, when MF, (a five foot two, petite, Irish, woman with glasses) began dancing with a six foot five African American Male who was in the greatest mood of his life thanks to his manic episode and auditory hallucinations of Motown music playing.

His euphoria led him to believe that this was a kick ass time and he was eternally grateful to be sitting in the ER hallway that we all referred to as the last stop before HELL.

He thought his ER visit was awesome and jam-packed with good times. The lucky ones to witness this dance routine could hear this male yelling “It’s gonna be a good time!” He was also doing that grunt sound like James Brown as if he just consumed the most delicious, satisfying meal of his existence. Meanwhile, MF was donning a protruding-lower-lip-pouting-smile, shaking her head back and forth in agreement as she were saying “Damn Right”. #itsgonnabeagoodtime

I rarely worked with MF but when I did, I could see the cohesive connections she had formed with each of our coworkers. MF and the Doctor ended up having tons of pop culture tastes in common and watching the two of them have a discussion or debate was mind-blowing. MF and Rokstar ended up being two peas in a pod and they discovered that Rokstar was basically a younger version of MF.  MF and the Seasoned Social Worker (SSW) both were avid newspaper readers and would have in-depth, intellectual and political discussions. Lucy and MF had this sister relationship where they would talk about their daughters and husbands; laugh hysterically together yet have these emotional arguments about work and make up like family. Unfortunately for the Doctor, MF and Lucy would seem to always have these heated fights while working with her and she was awkwardly stuck; like the middle child. Then Lucy, the doctor and MF would all laugh about it later.

MF and The Hunter had opposing political views, yet they both possesed a dark and dirty sense of humor (thanks to MF’s three brothers). They would be crying laughing about raunchy things then switch gears into a heated political argument; he would enjoy getting her all riled up and pissed off just like a brother would. MF and The Barber were about the same age and they clicked when discussing their generation and their kids.  MF loved jewelry, flowers and fashion which was the topic of discussion between her and The Movie Star; who was also the biggest fan of her impressions. If you were a strong-minded, opinionated, independent woman, LOOK OUT, because you were bound to butt heads and get into it with MF as Kendall, NaeNae, CeCe, and Jacquaylan did. They would always resolve it laughing while maintaining mutual respect agreeing to disagree.

Eventually MF became comfortable with her new normal and found the humor in many of her son’s rigid views. She would have all of us cracking up with stories of epic failures in trying to beat the spectrum. “CFG!Delete!” was another coin phrase after MF and her husband attempted to get their son to broaden his palette besides chicken nuggets, fries and grapes. This attempt was met with rage as her son burst through the door exclaiming “CFG! Delete.” Translation: “Delete that bullshit lunch you gave me. Get me Chicken nuggets, fries and grapes immediately.” #cfgdelete

MF would share her initial mortification of being at parties where her son would say his version of “thanks for having us” when leaving as “Thank you for the chicken, it was kinda disgusting.” She would obviously laugh privately and most of the time agreed with his brutal honesty. Her son would lecture anyone who would listen about the fact he knew the names of the all of the editors, costume designers, sound effects specialists, stunt doubles, and other random titles of people involved in movies that most people do not pay attention to. MF, her husband, her son and her daughter all possessed musical talent and amazing singing voices. Her son would belt out songs anywhere, even during class and all his peers and teachers would stop and listen because it was too beautiful to interrupt him.

When MF was happy and in a good place, she was unstoppable and intoxicating to anyone around her. You felt lit up as if the sun was shining just for you. When she was not in a good place, it felt lonely, cold and dark to be near her. Things that put her in a bad place seemed to be anything that triggered shame. An example, MF refused to watch the movie Shrek 2 because her son was unable to stop talking during the movie, a woman complained and they were asked to leave the theater. Her son was too busy going through the first Shrek movie dialogue in his head and reciting it out loud to care; however MF and her husband did. They were heartbroken and beginning to see the signs that being on the spectrum in junior high was more evident and not so cute anymore.  This triggered more fear and shame in MF, which led her husband to want to fix it and make her happy again. He could not bear to be in the cold and dark place and longed to be in her shining presence again.

MF was able to snap out of it fairly quickly with some good laughs, connection and her faith. She knew when she was being a “debbie downer” and would slip into character doing Rachel Dratch’s facial expressions and the “wah wah”.  She enjoyed singing at church, watching her daughter sing at church and seeing her siblings in a good place. MF was too cool for school and you would actually forget she was a mom sometimes because she seemed too in touch with everything. She was caught up with the latest binge worthy netflix shows, could jam to Missy Elliott, Ed Sheeran and Adele. If MF was singing, you knew she was in good place. However, for the Doctor and I, who also enjoyed singing; we felt completely inadequate singing around her because our voices sounded like sick dogs. MF could stop a party with her voice.

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

-Civilia D. Martin

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