This past week, I’ve been hard at work preparing to go to Utah, and getting some medical stuff done before I go...

I finally got a doctor’s appointment after months of scheduling fails, and spent almost two hours on various calls with my doctors. All of my doctors had nothing but good things to say. As far as the pandemic goes, I’m not as high risk as I thought. I still have to be careful, as we all do. However, like the vast majority of people with covid-19, I will be okay if I get it. I’m still gonna do everything I can to minimize my chances of getting it, but my doctors are very confident that I’ll live through this just fine. Words cannot describe how much weight lifted off my shoulders when my main pulmonologist told me sternly, “You will be just fine. You need to chill and go to Utah. I promise you’ll live. Just wear your N95 and carry your hand sanitizer when you go into places. If you get sick, you won’t die. You probably won’t even need hospital care.”

Turns out, roughly fifty Coloradans with CF have gotten covid-19. Only about 30% of those people needed hospital care. Out of those 30%, only two died. Everyone who was hospitalized had a much more advanced stage of CF than me. Those who are young, healthy, and/or on Trikafta have done just fine with covid-19, which is extremely encouraging. Sure, there’s a chance that I could still get a severe illness, and I’m not willing to take more chances that I have to. However, my doctors told me, over and over again, that the chances of me contracting a severe form of covid are very low. I need to go outside more, according to the doctors, so that I can maintain my optimal health. Mental health impacts my physical health, and if my mental health is in the toilet, my physical health will soon follow.

The next day, I called my therapist, and together we came up with a plan on how to get me back out into society, according to what my doctors said was and wasn’t safe. The first step was to pick up take-out. Not just curbside take-out. But, my therapist specifically wanted me to mask up, call in my order, and then walk in to grab my food. So, earlier today (Monday), I called my dad and headed out with him in search of lunch. First, we drove down to Parker, but I got nervous since nobody there seems to give a shit about wearing masks or being smart. To be fair, Parker is more rural and republican, so obviously people there will be less inclined to be safe and smart. Dad and I made some pretty twisted jokes as we drove around, gawking at how stupid people were being. After awhile, we got bored and headed back into our part of town. 

I haven’t been staying with my dad, but he’s been working from home, and his wife has been adamant that everyone who lives with her strictly quarantine, just because she thinks the end is nigh, and covid kills everyone it infects. As a result, I’ve felt comfortable being in close contact with my dad, and have been seeing him weekly for over a month. My grandparents live really close to my dad, out here in southeast Aurora. So, it’s been easy for us to see each other and go on hikes together. 

There’s an outdoor mall called Southlands nearby. I spent a lot of my childhood going to Southlands. It was really, really weird to see just how empty it was when we arrived. As expected, the grocery stores were packed. But, everything else was a ghost town. Dad and I cracked up when a few tumbleweeds crossed our path as we wandered through the parking lot, which was almost completely empty. It definitely set the mood. I think we only saw about three people, when on a normal Memorial day, there would be lots and lots of people going out to eat and hanging out in the center of the mall where there’s a bunch of fountains and a small park. 

We paced up and down Mainstreet. Less than half of the businesses were open. Those that were had strict rules. No more than ten people were allowed inside one business at a time, everyone had to wear masks, and everyone had to adhere to social distancing rules. It was eerie, yet comforting. 

After walking up and down the main road, we got back to the car and talked about what we wanted for lunch. I’d be paying, and since I’m still working and got my stimulus check, I felt comfortable going anywhere and buying anything. We settled on some hot wings. I wasn’t hungry enough to have a bison burger, and Tokyo Joes wasn’t open, so I couldn’t get sushi, and I wasn’t willing to go to the grocery store to get it. 

I picked up the phone, called in our order; a buffalo wing basket for two, and gave the restaurant about twenty minutes to get our order ready before going in. I was nervous, but prepared. I kept on reminding myself what my doctors told me. I’d be okay. It was safe for me to go inside a store wearing an N95 mask. The virus hates the sun and hand sanitizer. People were being safe and smart. Even if I got covid, I’ll be fine. While my emotional side desperately tried to make me feel like I was about to die for a basket of hot wings, my logical mind miraculously trumped it. 

Twenty minutes later, I took in a deep breath and headed inside Wingstop with my dad to pick them up. There were a couple other customers inside, and a couple of people working in the back, but they were all wearing masks and staying far away from everyone else. I gave one of the guys my name, and he gave us our wings. With that, we booked it out of the restaurant, Dad and I went a little crazy with the hand sanitizer, and drove back to my grandparents’ to enjoy our meal on the front porch. 

Overall, while I’m having a little bit of anxiety, I feel really good. I faced one of my biggest fears, using advice from my doctors, and in a couple of weeks, I’m gonna be driving into Utah, where I’ll hang out in a big house in the woods, and go off-roading in my Xterra every day until the end of July! Hopefully, my mom won’t freak out too much as we drive along cliffsides, through creeks, and over trees. I want to push that thing as far as it’ll go! Perhaps, even further, since my mom’s friends have 4X4’s as well, and can pull my dumbass out if/when I get stuck!