Like all humans, Dr. Anthony Fauci certainly has his faults. But if it were up to me he’d have a room full of medals and the enforced respect of everyone in the world.
He was at the front lines of slaying HIV-AIDS and COVID-19 into manageability territory over a series of many decades.
Not with social media posts and TV sound bites, but with actual science.
Imagine that!
As a gay man of a certain age, I remember the righteous and justified anger and vitriol we initially met him with during the AIDS crisis.
A time when the Reagan administration refused to see its urgency and blithely turned its back on mass death.
And how, as leader of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) at the time, he initially followed suit.
But what he didn’t do was turn a blind eye to ever-evolving facts. Or nurse his bruised ego by trying to have his critics arrested and put in jail via a kangaroo court.
He listened
Instead, he listened, learned and modified his opinions and the direction of his agency. And went on to use medicine to save millions of future lives while helping to open the doors for life-extending treatments of so many others.
He did much the same with COVID, contrary to what Sen. Rand Paul and his blustering band of bull sh-tting bullies were saying this week during cross-examination that told more about the prosecutors than it did about the witness.
When your big reveal is that the person on “trial” gushed in his diary about meeting a movie star, then I and every other teenage girl would have been thrown in the slammer long ago.
Along with more than a few boys and adult man-boys masquerading as public servants.
Truth hurts
To the latter point, just equate bragging rights and personally autographed photos as the equivalent of a diary entry.
As for the supposed medical inconsistencies and accusations they were spewing, it quickly became apparent that not a one understood how proper research and medical treatments and cures and proper protocols work.
And how pandemics go.
Take it from me, science is not a straight line.
How do I know that?
Well, I had the unfortunate great fortune to be treated for a serious medical condition that required me to go for seven weeks of radiation treatment five days a week in the basement of one of the best hospitals in L.A. in March, April and May of 2020.
Also known as the very height of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Me, everyday of my treatment
One week no one was wearing masks and you could take a loved one in with you. Another you masked up and wore gloves and came and went solo. Then it was full face paraphernalia and isolated waiting areas. Then single cubicles, constant wipe-downs and ID checks around every corner by scary looking people with face guard body armor and clipboards.
Supplies were plentiful, then low, then scarce. Medical personnel the same. Just when you’d get to know someone they’d disappear, never to be seen again. You didn’t dare ask what happened to them for fear that someone would tell you the truth.
But then you did because you’re a human being and you wanted to know.
So you could at least tell someone who knew them to send them your best.
Because you knew they were at the front lines and did everything they could to help you.
And in their own small way, did help you.
Say that again!
That’s not the way it seems to work for Sen. Paul and the bro-y Bot Boy Senators playing junior high level Perry Mason at Dr. Fauci’s expense.
It also quotes numerous experts about the risks of a hysterical non-science based,, vindictive approach to medical treatment and what it bodes for all of our futures.
I’m too disgusted with the know-nothing MAGA-ness of it all to enumerate.
All I can do is write about it and ask anyone who reads this and happens to know the Good Doctor, that I send my best…
P.S. – For a palette cleanser, I turned off the news most of the rest of the week and caught up with a little indie horror flick called Obsession that has grossed close to half a BILLION dollars at the box-office, and a big budgeted Spielberg-directed horror thriller called Disclosure Day that has taken in half that amount. There’s a lot to say on both. At a later date.
I’ve actually had my license since the 1970s and I’m pretty good behind the wheel. In fact, since the widespread use of GPS I’ve become almost excellent.
I no longer get lost or in near collisions because I’m looking through my Thomas’ Guide map to find out where the hell I am and why I’m not there yet (Note: Look it up! Actually, here it is…).
Oooh 98, a good vintage!
So what was it about me having to retake the written test to drive all these decades later that I let own me for the last few..um…years?
More importantly, when I finally stepped up to take it in November, why did I FAIL on my first try and then obsess for a full EIGHT more weeks about failing it again before trying a second time?
The fact that I passed on my next attempt this past week means nothing to me except I won’t get booked for driving with an expired license and cannot be sued for everything I’m worth if I happen to hit someone because I was legally a criminal driving without a license.
Me on Mulholland Drive
Which I suppose means more than something since the latter would have created a much bigger set of REAL problems, not to mention 100 times more anxiety, for me.
And all over a 25 question multiple-choice quiz where you can get five wrong, which makes it not all THAT hard anyway.
Actually, not true. But we’ll get to that in a second.
Tell me more!
First, some backstory –
I moved a few years before the pandemic but unbeknownst to me my DMV renewal was never sent to my forwarded address or someone in the office didn’t bother to alert me by email or snail mail that I was due.
So one day when my ID was being checked, probably because I was being carded for buying liquor….NOT……an authority figure warned me, Ya know, buddy, your license expired. You better get it renewed because they don’t mess around. You can be arrested.
Harrumph, I remember thinking. You’re not the boss of me.
Get lost!
And besides, they would have let me know like they’ve done for the last 137 years.
Well, that’s what I remember about the conversation, anyway. And I didn’t think anything of it until I realized I had to get on an airplane, and a well-connected friend, one of the few who knew about my situation, warned me, you better bring your passport for ID because they’re cracking down and won’t let you on the plane anymore.
Yeah, I hate to fly (Note: Another anxiety item) and it’d been a few years.
So I remember thinking, oh, this IS a big deal. Hmmm. Well then, I guess I’d better do this.
I hate everyone
And needless to say, my well-connected friend had a guy who advised me on what to do and how to get it accomplished as fast as possible.
Which, well, I sort of did. I filled out the paperwork, took another AWFUL photo for my new license, and was ready to take a test until I was warned it was too late in the day and that anyway I’d better study before I tried it because, well, road rules have changed since I took the test on my first car, a 1972 Ford Pinto.
You know I looked good driving this
Side Note: Don’t laugh, I LOVED Peter Pinto! He had a green racing stripe across his sides, a black hardtop and his horn fell off every time I drove over a pothole, which in NYC was at least two or three times a week, day, or even hour.
But I digress. It was late 2019 and I now needed to….study for a test?
Yeah, I don’t think so honey
Ugh. I hadn’t done that since college. And even then not until the last possible minute.
So true to form I waited as long as possible and planned the test for Feb. 2020.
At which time the COVID-19 pandemic hit and I was plagued by a series of health issues that weakened my immune system. Haha, no DMV for me!!
And it’s a good thing too since the one or two days of looking over the DMV rule book and cheat sheet web sites were a f’n nightmare!
Justified
They had rules AND questions about not only the required age of kids to sit in a backwards AND front facing car seat (Note: That’s 2 and 8 years old) but the height and weight requirements that make them exempt from those rules (Note: Um, 36 inches high and over 42 lbs., but I’d have to check).
F-ck man, I don’t have a god d-m kid, nor do I plan to let them in my car. Why on earth would I need to know that, in addition to the many, MANY rules for carrying livestock in the back of my truck? MY truck????
Get bent, DMV
Yes, I’m being serious. Go to any web address with sample EXAMS and you will find many questions about all sorts of things that would NEVER happen to ME. Or you.
Mortified and paranoid about not being an “A” student anymore, not to mention a little p.o.’d because my mind could no longer retain meaningless facts the way it used to, I decided to let the pandemic work for me.
After the DMV briefly shut down, I got a temporary doctor’s note re: my driving and felt relatively safe during those very strange times.
So I decided to stay away. For…well…two and a half years.
uh oh
I had been well half that time and the DMV had long opened. Yet the thought of learning about car seats and cow requirements sent me into an emotional tailspin.
So I did everything I could do avoid driving for fear of being arrested and broke into a sweat every time my husband threatened me with all sorts of stuff I won’t go into here if I didn’t take that f’n test!
Which I refused to take.
Or pretended I was studying for.
Or began studying for and gave up on.
Or called to make an appointment to take but hung up because the waiting time was too long.
You know this is good logic
Until late this fall when the husband kindly asked me this Christmas for the only present he really wanted – me and my license – by the end of the year.
Well kids, love makes you do all kinds of things you never thought you would. I found an expert to help me through the red tape I feared, studied for a few weeks quite diligently, showed up to take the dreaded written exam, doing breathing exercises beforehand to ease my anxiety, and promptly:
FAILED. I F’N FAILED AND I STUDIED!!
Yikes
And do you know why?
I was doing great until there were five – count ‘em, FIVE – questions about NEVs that showed up on my particular test.
Now you might ask yourself – what the f-k are NEVs? I know I did. Well, guess what:
NEVs are short for NEIGHBORHOOD ELECTRIC VEHICLES, little mo fos that look like powerized golf carts that none of my practice tests covered. You drive them in suburban neighborhoods I never frequent, they can’t go more than 20-25 mph, you need insurance to drive them, and they’re governed by most of the rules of the road but can’t be driven in a 35mph zone.
God help me if I ever see one of these on the road
Only, I didn’t know anything about that before I took the exam. I kept thinking an NEV was a special train, or a code word for Nevada, or some all-terrain vehicle that you drove up in the rocky Sierras, which I never do because I don’t like heights.
F-k me. And f-k them. And while we’re at it, F-K schooling of any kind. Even though I’m a teacher.
FIVE questions? That’s 20% of the entire test on NEVs and it caused me to FAIL on my very LAST question.
I hate the DMV but at least I no longer hated myself. F-k them! Again.
It must be repeated
Oh, and after a few glasses of wine that night you know I did an informal survey of about a dozen friends, NONE of whom knew what the hell on NEV was by its initials.
This means there are at least a dozen other drivers on the road that likely couldn’t have passed my test. Not that anyone cared. Except for my husband, who now offered to help mestudy for my test the next time.
I’d rather die.
Get out of my room!!!!
Though not before I passed this piece of sh-t test on my second attempt because I’d be god d-mned if the mo fo DMV is going to break me. I’m a lot smarter than them and I’m going to prove it.
At which point I did. It happened two months later and I was so angry I purposely crammed just 48 hours before test day because I refused to give them any more time than that on principle. Because I was so focused and motivated I knew I would pass. And I did.
Hurray!
In fact, I only got two wrong. And the last one was only because it was the final question and I was so happy to be done that I accidentally checked the wrong box.
So, what is the lesson in this?
1 – Do not let the anticipation of a task you do not want to deal with do a number on your brain and your life. In other words, don’t take something that demands a mere level #2 of your ability and make it into a level #17 task of hardship. And…
2 – The only way to motivate a barely still middle-aged gay, Jew is to try and screw them over. They will come for you with EVERYTHING they have and more EVERY TIME. And WIN.