We are trying to stay in some kind of routine. It’s only the third day and its already a struggle not to let depression win out and just veg in front of the TV. I’ve never been homebound before. I’ve been sick, and I’ve been unemployed, but this type of imprisonment in my own home is entirely new. I just finished doing some of the chores my wife is always after me to do. I can usually escape by going to work or a meeting at church, but now I think we will wind up having the cleanest and most organized house in the history of our forty-two-year marriage.
One of the hardest things to endure is that I cannot help by volunteering to distribute food or do shopping for those most vulnerable or just visit them because we are among that group. That’s a realization that is almost as depressing as being stuck in the house and feeling defenseless. This is the first time I have been forced to recognize that when they are talking about the elderly with underlying health problems, they are talking about me. There are some things about getting older that are pretty cool. Others just suck.