Letter: An uncaring president

Published: 8/24/2020 12:01:17 AM

I walk Amber five times a day, an aging husky with an aging man. She has a little more spring in her step than last month. So do I, watching the ferns and dog pees she sniffs. Poops are important too. This is her local newspaper. I know she cares about me. Does she even know she will die?

I think about my death every day. It could happen next month. I’m not ill that I know of. But I may have had COVID this winter. The bad asthma lasted six weeks. At one point I felt almost gravely ill. Maybe I was.

The emergency room gave me a battery of tests to explain the clots they found in my lungs. Finding no source, they sent me home. The next day I felt worse and spent the night in the hospital. More tests.

That was weeks before President Trump said the Chinese plague would miraculously disappear from America within days. Nobody had died of it yet in Portland or San Francisco. I could have been the first. My dog has more compassion than my president.




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