During another “Week That Was,” the trauma across our country intensified. We heard the pandemic was running its course and normalcy was just around the corner. Our hospitalized President appeared to triumph over the virus with “cocktails” of experimental and antibody drugs. Three days later at the White House, he declared Americans shouldn’t be afraid of this epidemic which consumes thousands of people every day -- as he continues a no-mask policy.
But last week personalized the pain on our sheep farm. Monday afternoon my husband began unloading a wagon of extra heavy hay bales, helped by two young men who promised to finish in the morning. But next morning, my 73-year-old husband got a head start by slinging bales down from the wagon. He suddenly heard a “pop” and felt a familiar sharp pain in his shoulder.
Waiting to see a doctor, he focused on a sheep that was getting more gaunt and weak in spite of medications. Later that week, the ewe was not able to get up. We knew the humane thing was to put her down as she lay in the pasture. Thankfully, a farmer friend stepped in and the two farmers stroked the failing ewe as it took its final breath. Some relief came days later when John’s doctor ruled out surgery for a tear in his bicep.
Pain comes in many varieties. Our hearts and prayers go out to all Americans suffering during this time of loss, pain, and future uncertainties.
I’m Connie Seraphine and that is my Perspective.
