Well before the virus arrived in the U.S. I got introduced to the health care industry by an intestinal upset that turned into coronary disruption and breathing problems. Various tests diagnosed atrial fibrillation and a leaking heart valve. When I rejected surgical intervention, the cardiologist prescribed some pills and said to see him in a year. Tht was in October of 2019.
Early in 2020 I thought to have a spot on the nose removed. Examination showed it to be cancerous, so the plastic surgeon started cutting deeper and midway suggested a hospital admission to finish the job with the assistance of anesthesia. That was vetoed by the cardiologist who opined the heart made that too risky (for the profession). At that point COVID-19 was well noticed, but my delivery of home made masks was a novelty. Indeed, because I had come away from the consultation with the cardiologist with a cold he’d shared, I was perhaps over-concerned.
Meanwhile, although I had been suggesting to our ling-term tenant that she consider buying a house and moving out of ours, she decided on another pregnancy about a year after her second son was born. Although we explored the market for suitable houses, it was clear there would be no relocation until 2021. Silas was almost a Christmas baby.
Then, father Barnes came to the rescue and offered to sell the family homestead to Sally and her three sons. However, his tenants would not move out until June and the relocation was not completed until July.
Meanwhile, an acquaintance had become aware of the emptying house and expressed interest in a purchase that became definite. So, I came up with terms and proceeded to draft the necessary documents and on October first of 2021 that chapter was closed after 27 years. I feel like a burden has been lifted. Providing shelter for other people is a lot of work, if done responsibly. The new owners wanted something to mess with. They got that. 🙂
Now I can turn my attention to Cate Street.