Covid, Christmas and car wrecks. I know the last time you heard from me I was looking forward to 2026 and my New Year’s resolutions. Ha! 2025 was not finished with me yet! So let me tell you about the last two weeks of the year. If you think I am looking for sympathy, you’d be right. I am because karma kind of bit me in the you know what!
It all began when Carey complained about feeling “funky” one Saturday. He was congested and achy. I suggested he take a Covid test, but he scoffed. (She may not be a doctor, but sometimes your wife just knows the answer.) After lying in bed for a few hours, he took the test. Positive. Yes, he had it. I assumed that I would get it since I was with him all day and slept in the same bed. By Thursday, my head was pounding, and I had a horrible cough. I had it! So, I woke Carey up to tell him because who really wants to suffer alone? Not me! He apologized and then quickly turned over and went to sleep. Leaving me to contemplate what this meant for Christmas.
We called my daughter who decided she was going to delay coming home until Dec. 22. She is more than a little Covid averse since the one time she had it was pretty awful. I assured her I would remain in my room, masked and at least six feet away from her at all times. I was scheduled to have everyone in my family, some 50 odd people, over for Christmas Eve. Since I am someone who never wants to cancel a party, I texted my family and told them about Covid, assured them I would be masked and not hugging anyone. If I still had symptoms I would stay in my room. As you might expect, people decided not to take a chance by coming to an infected house. So, 50 quickly turned to 20. But I am happy to report we still managed to blow through lots of bottles of champagne and some homemade Bailey’s my brother Mike makes. (What Irish family doesn’t make their own hooch!) Fortunately, no one came down with Covid.
Then, Carey and I set out to drive to the Florida Keys on Dec. 29. There was much more traffic than we expected, which was okay with me since when the highways are wide open, Carey becomes Speed Racer. We got to northern Florida, spent the night and started driving the next morning. I was in the passenger seat, reading Time magazine and drinking hot chocolate when BAM. We got side-swiped by another car and pushed into the concrete median on the Florida Turnpike. We watched the front tire fly off into the opposite lanes of traffic. Our car saved us from real harm because of the seatbelts and airbags. Of course we had the two dogs with us, so a tow truck took me and Stella to the impound yard and a very nice Florida Highway Patrolmen gave Carey and Stanley a lift. Carey rented another car, repacked that one with all our stuff and off we went. After realizing I did hurt myself, a quick trip to the only ER in the Florida Keys confirmed I had fractured my sternum and vertebra.
So that is it—battered and exhausted but still standing. I realized I have little control over how life unrolls sometimes but that just makes me more committed to having a great 2026!