he doesn't think one of his loved ones is ready yet

My youngest brother is very much not. Of course, he's also the one who absolutely CANNOT be here under any circumstances because of the multiple myeloma (nor would our dad want him to be; if he were still speaking, he'd be absolutely saying Stay the fuck home, and probably adding fucks for emphasis [which he does not habitually do around any of us kids, but if he were conscious and speaking he would make an exception for this]).

I can only imagine how difficult it is for your brother, and so many others, who can't be with loved ones. It sucks so much. I was the only child of 4 with my dad when he passed. It was random as we all took turns staying with him. I figured he wanted it that way. I hope your brother understands how important it is for him to stay safe with his fragile immunity. Just when we need to hug it isn't an option. Jacqueline and yours, you are due a whole lot of hugs.

{{{JZ}}}

I'm just gonna sit here next to you not saying anything. Maybe patting you on the arm now and then. Hope that's ok.

watching Gov update. over 200 Baltimore City Police Officers on quarantine. So over 6% of the officers.

That's just exactly the best thing, -t.

JZ, I have no words. I'm glad you were able to be with him and that he could see you and the card Matilda made for him. You're in my thoughts.

{{{{{JZ}}}}} I'm sure it was a huge comfort for him to see you. I'm sorry that this is all so hard.

Composed this on FB but reposting here because this is my real home:

Super fun story time, Muni edition:

Yesterday, after the conference call with the palliative care team, I left for the hospital. As we haven't had a car in several years, I went by public transit, carrying a couple of clean pillowcases (per the hospital's instructions) to sit on in case I had to sit down at any point, so none of my clothing would be touching any unknown surfaces, and a head-to-toe change of clothes inside a plastic bag inside another plastic bag, so that when I left the hospital I could double-bag the stuff I'd brought in and walk out in completely clean and fresh items that hadn't been exposed to anything.

I wore one of the remaining N95 masks from the box Dad had given us over a year ago after the wildfires. It doesn't have a valve, so none of my air was getting out.

Muni only has a few remaining lines running, but our place is right along one of them and it should have been an easy straight shot from the stop two blocks from our front door right to BART.

BUT, the N is now a single bus, not even a double, and social distancing was nigh impossible and SITTING while socially distancing 100% impossible, so I just slung my arm around a pole to steady myself (fully clothed, and I hadn't worn that coat or sneezed into that elbow in almost a month) and stood.

At Duboce and Church a woman got on pulling a golf cart full of supplies, plopped herself down, and started TALKING. Not even yelling, just TALKING at a truly phenomenal volume. And the driver's shift was done and his replacement was supposed to be there but wasn't, so we all sat or stood there not moving.

"THIS IS A GOLF CART SO IT'S PRETTY WOBBLY. I NEED A ZIP TIE TO SECURE THE HANDLE TO ONE OF THESE POLES SO IT DOESN'T GO ALL OVER. DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY ZIP TIES? ANYONE? ALL I NEED IS A ZIP TIE, BUT MY CART ONLY HAS ONE WHEEL SO IT WOBBLES. NOBODY HAS ANY ZIP TIES? NOBODY AT ALL? OKAY.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH THIS BUS SMELLS LIKE PEE. WOW, SO MUCH PEE. CAN EVERYONE SMELL THE PEE? IT'S A SHAME. IT'S JUST A DISGRACE, HOW THEY MAKE US WAIT AND THEN WE SIT AND DON'T MOVE AND THEY MAKE US GET ON BUSES THAT SMELL LIKE PEE.

"DOES EVERYONE ELSE SMELL THE PEE? IT CAN'T BE JUST ME, RIGHT? YOU ALL SMELL IT TOO? SO MUCH PEE. I'M REALLY SURPRISED. YOU'D THINK THEY'D BE MORE CAREFUL ABOUT THINGS LIKE PEE, BUT IT REALLY SMELLS LIKE PEE HERE."

About ten minutes into the bus not moving and the endless nonmusical Urinetown performance, I snapped.

"I can't smell the pee because I'm wearing a mask! I don't care about the pee! I'm just trying to get to the hospital to see my father before he's extubated and dies, and WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT UP ABOUT THE PEE."

Whereupon she reached into one grubby pocket and tried to make me take a wad of cash (paper money wadded up in a wodge, already notoriously one of the germiest things on the planet). "THAT'S AWFUL. YOU ARE BREAKING MY HEART. YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE. YOU SHOULD TAKE A CAB. TAKE MY MONEY! TAKE IT! GO GET A CAB. WHY ARE YOU HERE WHEN YOU'RE MAKING MY HEART HURT?"

"I know where I'm going and how to get there, and I don't need anyone's cash; I just need you to STOP TALKING ABOUT PEE."

"TAKE MY MONEY. TAKE IT. WHY WON'T YOU TAKE MY MONEY."

And, the whole time, the driver just sitting there because he's done and this thing isn't going another inch until his relief arrives.

So I gathered my stuff and got off the bus and walked a block down to Market, where 3 different lines, all still running, converge and go straight to the BART station I needed to get to. Perfect! Now I wouldn't have to hear about pee or fend off her germy guilt cash or wait endlessly for a relief driver who would never arrive, and with three lines actively running I shouldn't need to wait more than a couple of minutes.

Alas, the closest one was still 12 minutes away at best, and the other two were 45 and 55 minutes.

Okay. 12 minutes. I could do this. 12 would probably be 15 in real time, but that wasn't intolerable, and if (continued...)

( continues...) worst came to worst I could probably walk to BART in 15 minutes anyway.

Standing at the stop, waiting. A tall, chiseled, handsome blond man in a mask walked briskly right past me, and I hastily stepped out of his way. He got to the end of the platform, whirled on me, and started shouting (unlike Urinetown, he wasn't just normal-talking and projecting; he was screaming).

"THAT WAS SO UNBELIEVABLY RUDE! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? HOW DO YOU THINK THAT MAKES ME FEEL? HAVE YOU EVER SPENT ONE SECOND THINKING ABOUT HOW IT WOULD MAKE YOU FEEL IF SOMEONE JUMPED OUT OF YOUR WAY LIKE THAT! I UNDERSTAND SOCIAL DISTANCING! I'M FOLLOWING THE RULES! THAT WAS SO UNBELIEVABLY RUDE OF YOU!"

And on and on, until I lost it and shouted back, "FUCK. OFF. I'm waiting for the bus so I can get to the hospital and sit with my father while he dies. When someone gets out of my way, I'm HAPPY AND RELIEVED that we're taking care of each other. And if I ever forgot and walked too close, they SHOULD step out of my way because I've been tested and I'm positive."

"YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE ON THE BUS!" he screeched. "I'M TELLING THE BUS DRIVER ON YOU!"

So I said, "You are a cold, heartless, garbage human being," and walked most of the rest of the way to BART. As I walked, the N I'd abandoned rumbled by, completely empty, with an OUT OF SERVICE message flashing in front.

At Van Ness, the replacement N appeared and I was able to jump on. Urinetown was on it! But she had apparently completely forgotten I ever existed, and mercifully paid no attention to me at all because she was busy projecting at an old man who apparently had foolishly disclosed that his family was from Louisiana, so she was telling him earnestly about how GENEALOGY IS VERY IMPORTANT AND YOU HAVE TO KNOW WHERE YOUR ROOTS ARE. ON MY DAD'S SIDE OF THE FAMILY WE HAVE BEEN ON THIS CONTINENT SINCE THE 1600S, BUT MY MOTHER ESCAPED NAZI AUSTRIA IN 1946 AND ON HER SIDE I AM 10% ASHKENAZI JEW AND THAT IS A VERY IMPORTANT THING TO KNOW.

So, that's the story of my delightful epic journey to the hospital, and that's how the universe chose to set the stage for my last visit with my father in our lifetimes.

Humans, children. We make me tired.

Wow.

I saw someone said recently that when the clocks changed this year we went from Standard Time to Twilight Zone. Seems more and more true all the time.