Bill Bowman

I thought I was going to make it through the Covid pandemic unscathed.

I sailed through those years without even a sniffle.

But that all changed one day, after things had begun to open up.

I was in my gym’s locker room, getting dressed, and there was a group of 4 or 5 guys in their 20s next to me, yapping as they do.

Then one of them, the one nearest to me, of course, started to cough. They all looked at him and he said, oh no, it’s my asthma.

Yeah.

Three days later, I had a temperature over 100 degrees.

Felt like shit for a couple weeks.

It ran its course, eventually. I was left without being able to taste food, temporarily, and a hyper-sensitivity to spices. That last one was permanent.

And A-Fib, although I didn’t know it till a while later.

Things I was able to do without a thought, like walking up stairs, became a chore. I would flat-out run out of energy in the middle of the day. Fall asleep in my chair. Stuff totally out of character for me.

Finally decided to have myself checked out. They did the standard EKG. Shortly after, the doc came in, holding the readout sheet, telling me I have a-fib, and that they were making an appointment with a cardiologist for me right now. And I was to go there immediately.

I didn’t, me being me. But I eventually did, and was told I have a mild case of chronic a-fib. Erratic beating of the heart which can lead to a bunch of things, most importantly, stroke.

An echo cardiogram revealed that the left side of my heart had not expanded, as was the fear, so the chance of blood pooling and coagulating there — forming clots — was minimal.

Didn’t need meds. Yet. Return every 6 moths for a checkup.

So I do that. I dropped about 40 pounds. Wear compression socks.

But I still have the endurance issues. Still can be stopped in the middle of doing something to have to catch my breath.

I used to ride 100-mile bicycle tours. Doc said, nope. 10 miles at most.

Sometimes I have trouble riding 5.

That’s why I say a-fib is kicking my ass, but this is my life now, and I’ve pretty much accepted it.

But it really hurts to know that I can’t do some of the things I was able to do before that stupid kid coughed in the locker room.

Met up with two college friends today, one of whom I hadn’t seen since I think 1995 (we graduated in 1982). This was the second time in a month that my friends from Livingston College have reunited.

The first time, it was my roommate Ron, and friends Shelly, Scott, Tina, Ellen, Grace and Sally.

This time, it was Shelly and Betsy. Betsy’s the one I haven’t seen since the 90s.

Reconnecting with people you knew, and who knew you, when you were pretty much discovering who you were (are?) can be a powerful thing. One of the reasons I disliked the movie, “The Big Chill” was how dismissive it was of that time in one’s life.

A line by the character Nick, played by William Hurt, summarizes that attitude: “Wrong, a long time ago we knew each other for a short period of time; you don’t know anything about me.”

Social media has made it easier to keep in touch with those we’ve known for a short period of time a long time ago, so we can know things about each other. There are those with whom I’ve kept in contact, and whose stories since college I know well and sometimes played a part in. And there are others, such as some of the people I’ve reunited with over the past month, with whom I really haven’t kept in touch.

But I tell you, even though I haven’t seen Betsy since Bill Clinton was president, and some others in last month’s reunion since before that, the connection we forged over four years in college was as strong as ever. I felt totally at ease with her and everyone everyone else I’ve reconnected with over the last month. It was as though we’d just met up in the pub after a long day of classes.

Our bond is strong because we met and decided we liked each other at a time when we really didn’t know who we were. We bonded through shared experiences; classes, parties, relationships. And we still found commonalities with each other as we made our way through the four years of college.

Connections like those are hard to break. And sharing our life experiences since colleges at these random meet-ups just make those connections even stronger.

The power of the past is awesome.

“I have died every day,
Waiting for you,
Darling don’t be afraid,
I have loved you for a thousand years,
I’ll love you for a thousand more …”

There are none so blind as those who refuse to see.

Is there any better feeling than to hear someone you’re missing say that they miss you, too?

“She was the magnet, I was the steel.”

For some reason, I have to start over again on my blog. That’s a lot of work I’m going to have to recreate. Stay tuned.