Promises to Keep by Liz Flaherty #WindowOvertheSink

On behalf of Jerra Moreland-Kraning, thank you for visiting her post on the Window last week. Although she is still riding on Covid's roller coaster, she's doing it from home and appreciates everyone's concern.  

It's been...quite a week, hasn't it? I'm writing this on Friday, which I try to do most weeks to keep myself from the "oh, crap, it's Saturday morning and I've only written seven words!" scenario. In truth, since the column isn't in any publications at the present time, I'm my own boss as to its deadline. (It should be noted here that my boss doesn't pay well, but there is no dress code and no one cares how often I leave my desk.) But the Window on Saturday morning is, for me, a promise to keep. 

That makes me think of teachers--yeah, I know, I think of teachers a lot--and their schedules during this time of strangeness and worry and overload. I hear what they say, I see the videos of elementary teachers reading aloud to their kids, I feel their frustration. At the end of the day, though, regardless of their dedication level, they have promises to keep to their students. And they do. Day after day after day.

My mind goes from teachers to health care workers. They are so tired. Not all of them, I suppose. But those who are, the ones who think and sometimes say aloud in their exhaustion and frustration, "I didn't sign up for this," keep on doing it. 

The moon was beautiful this morning. I walked out to the office through the cold and wet, but there it was in the east, God's thumbnail. Pale orange against the darkness of the sky. It's still there. In my knows-better mind, it's lighting the way for the sun to come up, elbowing its way through the overcast to ensure us that we have another day to get things right.

I'm a morning person, so it's no surprise that I'm up well before daylight, slurping coffee eagerly and telling myself that today I will not eat too much or too often. I will not spend too much time on Facebook. I will clean off the kitchen island--I know it used to be blue. 

We all have lists, don't we, of things we should do, things we want to do, things we know we'll never do (the island comes to mind...), and things we must do. We also have promises we make to others and ones we make to ourselves. 

They are important. 

Background by Sarah L. Luginbill

This column didn't go at all the way I intended, which as you know happens a lot, but I'm going to end it on a decidedly cheerful note. You all know Joe DeRozier, right? He's the "dusty old baker" on Broadway in Peru. He's half of the Dough & 5-0 Show, a successful entrepreneur, and an all around good guy. And did I mention that he's also a published author? Heck, I Don't Know...I Just Make Donuts is available now! You can order a print copy from him, too, at https://www.deroziers.com/book-order-form. He'll sign the book for you and I have it on good authority that he'll give you a free donut!

I hope you order a book, that you enjoy it, and that you give it a great review. 

Have a good week. Stay safe. Keep promises. Be nice to somebody. 

I'm Not Terrified by Jerra Moreland-Kraning #WindowOvertheSink

(Added this morning, November 7. Jerra is in the hospital with Covid. I am scared for her. Please keep her in your hearts and your prayers. - Liz)

Please welcome my friend Jerra Moreland-Kraning to the Window this week. This column started as a Facebook post, but it needs a bigger audience than that. Jerra is so many things (including a popcorn-eating fiend; I only know this because she was keeping up with me...) and has such a great heart I feel honored to share this piece of it. 

It was Homecoming Week at the high school where I work. Staff and students were outside on the football field. Everyone was having a great time! I felt the sting on the back of my neck. I knew I had minutes before my throat would completely swell shut and cut off my entire air supply. First responders are a good twenty minutes out from our location. There would not be enough time to wait. I would die.

But, I'm not terrified. I am not panicking. I unpack my emergency kit and begin self administering epinephrine, Benadryl, steroids and Ativan. I set a timer on my phone, so I will wait the appropriate amount of time before administering the second round of epinephrine. I begin vomiting and aspirating.

I can't talk because my tongue, my lips and my throat are swelling. So, I hand the pre-typed card I have to the person with me. The instructions read to call 911, followed by a list of the emergency meds, my regular medications, my allergies, and my emergency contact, family doctor and pulmonologist.

The school nurse, volunteer fire department, school resource officer, and the athletic trainer were with me while my body was suffocating itself to death. I could see the fear on everyone's face. All of these individuals are trained for medical emergencies, but there was nothing they could do. They felt helpless and frightened. An ETA on the ambulance was radioed in and it was still ten minutes out and they looked at each other--worried.

But I was not worried. I have been through this before. I know the medication works. I know it takes time. I know I am going to be okay...and I was.

I have no emergency kit in my purse for COVID. I don't have access to life-saving medications and medical equipment. Doctors, nurses, scientists, specialists and many more are standing by with that same worried look that those trained professionals had with me. They stand by helpless while a patient dies. Nobody knows what to do, so everyone is just doing their best.

A plea to the public to be cautious, socially distance, wear a mask, and close the schools when there is a spike in cases is simply a plea to hang in there we are trying to fix it.

We live in an instant gratification society. "What's the end game?" "When will things be normal?" "Our kids have lost so much."

There is no normal. We adapt. There is no end game. We adapt. Your kids have you and you have each other. They may not have organized sports but they are having dinner and a game night at home with you. We adapt.

We simply don't know enough yet. But, we know a lot more then we did in March! In six months we will know even more. It takes time...and no one wants to be inconvenienced and put off any longer.

I will wear my mask. I will socially distance and I will stay home when I need to stay home. I will do it for me and I will do it for the members of my community because we ALL matter.

***

I am a High School English teacher to an incredible group of students at a rural Indiana school. I am the mother to two handsome sons and three amazing step-children. I am a wife to an EMT. I am also a good friend, a supportive colleague and more. I am blessed to be considered a valuable person to many lives. 

Even though... I am an "at risk" person for COVID-19. I am someone who has Hyper IgE Syndrome. Defined as a rare primary immunodeficiency disease characterized by eczema, recurrent staphylococcal skin abscesses, recurrent lung infections, eosinophilia (a high number of eosinophils in the blood) and high serum levels of IgE. I am allergic to many things (see above.)

These reactions have at times and perhaps far too often resulted in Anaphylaxis. I have walked to the edge of life and been brought back... too many times to count. At times intubation has been needed to live. My family has been told to expect the worse, more than once. I am one of the many precious reasons people are asked to wear a mask, socially distance and stay home if they are sick. 

I am.