Same deal. Our disguised reporter is in the White House serving drinks. All the usual suspects are present: Trump, Barr, Pence, McConnell, Graham and Stephen Miller along with a couple of unidentified underlings. Trump is in an especially foul mood as he sips on a diet coke and eats his second Big Mac and his super-sized fries. An unidentified underling is talking when our reporter enters.

Underling 1: So there you have it, Mr. President. Our research shows you are down in all the polls, and Biden is likely to win unless things change. I mean, really change. This virus is killing us and the economy. Oh, my God! Experts are telling us it is not going to get any better by November, not the pandemic and not the economy. It could actually go on for years, and if we totally open up the economy too fast, we could be looking at 10,000 deaths a month, maybe more….

Trump: You are fired! Now get the hell out of my face. Pence, find the experts he is talking about. Have them locked up.

Pence: I am on it. I admire your leadership so much. You are so inspiring…

Trump: Thank you, Pence. I know I can count on you. So what do the rest of you think?

Barr: Well, I have some good news. Everything is set up now for you to decide whether to pardon all your allies and subordinates who are now in prison or waiting to be tried or if you would prefer, for the Justice Department simply to drop charges. Your friends will all be free, following your command.

Trump: Great news! If they are in jail, I will pardon those who have not squealed on me. Otherwise, you drop the charges.

Barr: We also will be bringing charges against Mueller, Comey and over a dozen others in the Justice Department and the FBI for being traitors plus a whole bunch of other charges. They will be in the slammer for the rest of their lives, and we will teach the Deep State a thing or two. Your base will love it! Plus it will take the focus off the covid crisis and off the economy.

Trump: Thanks, Barr. Great news. But I am still worried about the polls. I just do not understand why people are so upset. I do not understand why I am so mistreated.

Underlining 2: With all due respect, sir, they are upset, Mr. President, because almost 75,000 Americans have died from the virus and over 33 million are unemployed. Well over a million have been infected, but nobody really knows how many. Could be 1.5 million. People are terrified. Those are the facts, sir. Plus governors are complaining that they still do not have enough tests or protective equipment and that—I do not believe any of this myself—but that you have been sending mixed messages to states, and people are confused.

Trump: You are fired! Get out of my face. Pence, take him out.

Pence: Thank you, Mr. President. You are inspiration.
(Pence escorts him to the door.)

Trump: Find out where he got this fake information, Pence. Have them locked up.

Pence: On it, sir.

Graham: You know we love you and admire you and think that you are the greatest president the country has ever seen, by far the greatest, so great in fact that there are really no words to describe how great you are, but with all due respect and admiration, sir, I humbly have to agree that the covid crisis and the economy are taking their toll. I know that it is not your fault. You have done everything right like you always do. You are a true hero, but the deaths and the job losses, they are real. Perhaps we should be doing more.

McConnell: Not if it means giving one more nickel to the deadbeats who are getting employment insurance for a couple of extra months. These giveaways discourage work. That is why we in the Senate are also going to cut food stamps way back and, of course, put the nail in the Obamacare coffin. These actions will inspire your base and get them revved up. Also no more bailouts for small businesses. Maybe big ones but no small ones. We just can’t afford it. We have got to act with fiscal responsibility. Cutting these pathetic giveaways plus the elimination of payroll taxes and more cuts for corporations and billionaires will do the job. You will smash Biden. You really do not have to worry.

Miller: Mr. President, both senators actually have good points. We have to admit that we are in a national crisis. Yet we must act with fiscal responsibility and not reward deadbeats. So I agree with both of them. But it is not hopeless. I have a plan that will assure your reelection.

Trump: Let’s hear it, Steve.

Miller: First step. You declare the pandemic over. Gone. You have conquered it single-handedly. This then frees you up for the second step, to order everyone in the country to go back to work and for all businesses that were shut down to reopen. Those not complying will be locked up. That will solve the employment problem and your popularity problem. By November the economy will be just like it was in early January. People will love you; and most important, they will be rid of all lock down orders, they can ditch all the facemasks and touch anyone they want, anywhere they want, heh, heh, heh, Mr. President, if you know what I mean. Football will resume in September and by November your reelection will be in the bag. And you can restart the big rallies beginning in early June. The stadiums will be jampacked with loving supporters wearing MAGA hats, screaming “lock him up” and burning face masks.

Trump: Lock who up?

Miller: Biden, of course. Sleepy Joe. You’ve got the goods on him. Ukraine, sexual assault, Hunter, and so much more. He is toast.

Trump: Well, for the first time in weeks I am starting to feel better. Thanks, Steve. Are there any downsides?

Miller: Well, there is one small downside and that is what happens in the unlikely event that covid-19 actually hangs around, that it does not go away. I do not believe a word any of the scientists and so called experts are saying, but there are some who are saying that opening up America too fast could result in more deaths.

Trump: Like how many?

Miller: I don’t know, maybe two or three million, over the next couple of years, but don’t worry. I have a plan for that. You declare by executive order that the number of covid deaths that occur are top secret information and that anyone revealing what the numbers are will be tried for treason. I guarantee that will fix the problem. No one in the country will have any idea how many are getting sick and dying.

Barr: He is right. The Justice Department will support this fully, and the FBI will lock up anyone who reveals this information. No one will know! Brilliant, Steve. Plus, Mr. President if the Democrats object, remember you have five votes you can always count on in the Supreme Court.

Graham: But people could be dying all over the place. Won’t people know that this is happening?

Miller: The flu. They will be dying from the flu! Dying from the flu is not such a big deal. People die from the flu all the time. And two or thee million might sound like a lot of deaths over a couple of years, but it is really not so bad—only one or two percent of the population. And keep in mind, most of those dying will be poor people and black people and brown people, immigrants, old codgers who were going to die anyway, and other losers. Who will really care?

Trump: Brilliant, Steve! Tweets start at 3:00 AM tomorrow morning. Everybody get on it.

Pence: You got it, Mr. President!

Yesterday I emailed a draft of what I think should be in my obituary to our two grown children, who I presume will have the obit responsibility when the time comes. I want to be sure they get everything right. But rest assured, I am not dead yet. But I could be! Here is my story:

It is hard not to think constantly about the Covid Crisis. It–and only it—dominates the television news, the radio, the newspapers, the internet, and every talk show. Every day. All the time. Embry and I wear masks. We keep six-foot distances. We stay out of all stores and order groceries online. We communicate with others via email, Zoom and phone calls. We stay home and sulk wondering if we will ever be freed from House Arrest. We do not know when, if ever, we will be able to hug our grandchildren. We are obsessed.

A recent comment from a friend’s email a few days ago resonated with me. He commented that he wondered when this is all over, which group he would join first, Weight Watchers or AA. Me too. I get it. Yes, these are tough and scary times.

This explains why last week when Embry came down with extreme fatigue, aches and pains– “flu-like symptoms” — we looked at each other and said, “Oh, no!” Actually, that is not what we said; but since my grandchildren might read this, it will have to do. Unlike me, Embry never gets sick. That is not exactly true either since after she had spent time in an African country, she once or twice came back with some weird disease. But a run-of-the-mill cold or flu? Never. This spring, however, Embry has been going to the Virginia Hospital Center in Arlington every day during the preceding three weeks for radiology treatments for breast cancer. (She is doing ok and the prognosis is very good.) Sixteen visits to be exact. Guess who else is going to hospitals these days. I drove her to her appointment every day and waited patiently in the car envisioning Embry squeezing her way through crowds of coughing people, some without masks, desperate for help. It turns out that those seeking emergency help and ventilators went to another part of the hospital. But still. The first week of her treatment (early April), she noted that no one was wearing a mask, not even the doctors and medical technicians. It seemed to me she stood a pretty good chance of getting infected. I was certain that her symptoms had to be the dread disease. How else could you explain it?

That was Saturday. The next day I came down with similar symptoms. I staggered to the computer and got on the internet to review the symptoms of Covid-19. The good news was that neither of us had any fever. We still could taste food and smell things, and our toes were not blue or green. We did not have a dry cough. And we could breathe. I practiced holding my breath. Thirty seconds. Was that long enough? But we still felt terrible and had the awful fatigue and body aches that often accompany the flu. Besides, it turns out that the symptoms of Covid-19 are all over the place, and a victim often takes a quick turn for the worse. The truth is nobody really knows for sure if they have it until they get tested or they can’t breathe anymore. By that time, it may be too late. Surely, I thought, our number had come up.

What to do? No brainer. Of course, first you call your doctor. We are members of Kaiser Permanente and have been very pleased with this healthcare system and the care we have received for the last five or six years we have been members. But you never call your physician at Kaiser. You communicate via the message center on their website. When I logged in, I discovered a new warning on the Kaiser Permanente website that due to the Covid-19 crisis, communication with Kaiser physicians would be exclusively via a phone or video conference, and that you had to reserve a spot in advance. My doctor’s name appeared, and I immediately reserved a time slot for the next day, Monday, at nine in the morning.

Monday morning came and went. No call from the doctor. This was very strange since she had never missed following up quickly on emails before. That afternoon I checked back on the Kaiser website and realized that my appointment was for Monday at nine the following week. There were no spots left for this week. That was an eternity away. We both could be dead by then. The website, however, had a solution for patients like us: “If you are ill, dial 911 or go to the nearest emergency room.” Now it is true that there was also a message about calling an advisory nurse, but we did not want a nurse. We wanted a doctor. We wanted our doctor. We wanted our doctor now.

Panic! At least I was panicking. Embry was starting to feel a little better, and I could tell by her look that she thought I might be overreacting. But for me the vision of the typical Covid emergency room immediately came to mind. We have all seen photos or videos of the catastrophic situation in New York City hospitals. Harried, medical personnel running this way and that wearing hazmat suits and masks. Patients, some with masks, others without, leaning against the hallway walls or sitting on the floors patiently waiting for help. People in cars lined up in front of emergency rooms, some slouched over the steering wheel, dead. For some reason the image of Calcutta in the 1930s and 40s came to mind—emaciated people jammed together, lying on the hallway floors in the hospital, dressed in tattered rags, moaning, with flies swarming around them, pleading for help.

The emergency room? Oh, my goodness! It was at this moment that I began to write my obituary. I know that it is not common or appropriate for someone to compose his or her own obituary, but I feared that very important things might be overlooked if left to others. Things like my blog posts and storytelling.

I had experienced emergency rooms in Washington before. A couple of years ago we took Embry’s brother, Mike, to the emergency room at the Washington Hospital Center for them to treat a severe infection. At nine in the morning the waiting room was already packed. By noon the ambulances were lined up with patients waiting to get in. By late afternoon every bed was taken, and patients were on stretchers, packed in the hallways so tightly that you could hardly walk between them. And all that was long before Covid-19. I could only imagine what the situation would be like today. The Calcutta image appeared in my mind again.

But the real issue with emergency rooms is that if by some chance you actually do not have Covid-19 when you go in, you surely will have it when you come out—if you come out. The germs have to be everywhere; and even if you wear a mask, it will do little good under emergency room conditions during the Covid crisis. Why on earth would Kaiser or any other health care provider even suggest in the Covid-19 world that the emergency room is a viable option for anyone “feeling ill” without first being screened by a physician? Other healthcare providers are doing the same thing.

Catch 22, baby. Catch Covid 22! You do not really know if you have the disease until you are tested. In DC and most of the country, you can’t get tested unless you have a doctor’s order. Doctors are so busy they can’t even talk to you for at least a week, let alone see you. In a week you might not be able to breathe. You are desperate for help. So you suck it up and go to the nearest emergency room. You find out it was a false alarm. You only had a common cold. You are relieved. But in the emergency room you are exposed to Covid-19. Five days later you are back again. This time it is the real thing. Anything wrong with this picture?

In our case I am happy to report that it was a false alarm. Embry was better by Tuesday, and I perked up on Thursday. We never talked to a doctor or ventured out to an emergency room. Did we have Covid-19? Probably not, but what we did have was pretty weird; and this is one weird disease.

We were–and are–the lucky ones. But what this experience really brought home to me is what this disease is doing to others who are not as lucky as we were. It brought home to me the fear that they must feel, their desperation, and their despair. I read somewhere that almost half of the patients who do get to the emergency room do not survive if they require a ventilator. More chilling is that those who are hanging on by a thread—or, for that matter, all patients in the ER during this crisis– are not permitted to have visitors. They do not have family and loved ones by their sides. Those who do not make it die alone. Their grieving family and those who are left behind are not able to attend a funeral. All gatherings of more than a handful of people are prohibited by the stay-at-home orders. It is a tragedy beyond description. It is nothing like anyone alive today has ever experienced.

At some point we–I mean “we” as in the human race– will get through this. But we do not have a clue when. Despite the easing of restrictions in some states, it now looks like the worst is yet to come. All we humans can do is hang in there, honor the distancing restrictions as best we can, and gut it out, hoping and praying that we and those we love will be the lucky ones and that at the end of it all, some good will come out of this horror.