I achieved a lifelong dream. Then things went to hell.

[BayAreaAtLast]

I have wanted to live in the San Francisco Bay Area since the summer of 1976, when a 13-year-old me traveled with my parents to the Peninsula to visit my sister and brother-in-law (and, it turned out, my niece in utero). I have visited here multiple times in the ensuing decades and have physically yearned to live here, knowing how expensive and crowded it is. Fast forward to October 2019, when my husband announced that he was leaving his job in Oregon so we could move to Napa. I didn't believe it until it happened. In January 2020, he started a locum tenens psychiatrist position at Napa State Hospital. He lived with my sister in Rio Vista until we were able to find a place to rent in Napa, and I finally achieved my dream and joined him on March 1st. We moved down a 26' truck of our things, as well as our 6 cats. Naturally, we failed to pack things like face masks (which I use while scooping cat poop), Lysol, hand sanitizer, paper towels, Kleenex, and toilet paper, but planned to return the following weekend to move more stuff. I also left my car in Salem.

Things went well the first week, but on Friday, March 7th, our youngest kitty Chandni (aged 2) had a coughing fit. On the 8th we noticed she was breathing rapidly. On the 9th I took her to the closest emergency hospital in Fairfield, where she had blood work, a UA, and x-rays done, showing that she had a large fluid buildup in her chest. They transferred her to a 24-hour vet hospital in Concord, where chest tubes were placed. She was in critical condition for days, requiring oxygen, blood pressure meds, and chest lavage. Copious amounts of infected fluid were drained from her chest each day. We cried and agonized each day as the costs mounted (no pet insurance, of course). When they hit $17,000 on Saturday the 15th, we consulted with the vet and decided to bring her home to recover. She is on crate rest for 2 weeks, then must be confined to one room away from the other cats for 2 months after that. The doctors think another of our cats might have bitten her, as her chest fluid was cultured and grew out a bacterium commonly found in the mouths and throats of cats. She has had more chest x-rays locally and needs more this week and must be on antibiotics for a total of 4-6 weeks. She is doing well at home and acting like herself, but chest x-rays show some residual fluid, and the local vet thinks she should go back to Concord to have the remaining fluid surgically removed (at a cost of $8,000 - $12,000).

In the meantime, all hell has broken loose with the COVID-19 pandemic. Seasonal allergies reared their head with a vengeance as soon as we arrived. I started having a dry cough last Monday, then developed a low grade temperature (never over 100) on Tuesday. I have had no body aches or breathing difficulties, so I haven't pursued testing. (I am 57, and my husband is 62). I feel better now, and my cough has turned productive. We had to get a new KP plan upon moving to California, and coverage doesn't start until April 1st. I don't want to waste a test when someone else could use it, and I'm not sure I could even get tested. My husband gets screened daily upon arrival at work. We are staying home all the time except for socially-distanced walks around the block. My husband was able to fly to Oregon on Thursday and have most of the rest of our stuff moved down here Friday. He drove like a maniac to beat the movers here late that night. They left our house at 2:15 Saturday morning. Those poor guys had to rent a car to drive back after the airline canceled their flight home because "no one was on the flight." We are fortunate that my husband was able to make it to Portland.

I have never hated anyone as much as I hate Trump, as well as his brain dead followers who put us all in this horrible situation. I can't see my sister, who is 70, or have the fun I expected to have in this beautiful area. I can't see my niece and her fiance or the friends I already have here. I constantly worry about Chandni and whether we are going to need to pay for chest surgery to make sure she fully recovers from her illness. I constantly worry about my fellow Americans (but not Trump supporters) and small businesses/restaurants/everyone who is suffering. I constantly worry about my husband's health, as his job is our only source of income. We have lost at least a 6th of our retirement income due to this orange son of a bitch. I constantly worry that there will be no election in November for him to steal. I am eaten up with rage against him and all Republicans. Can we make it through this surreal nightmare in which we find ourselves? All things considered, we are extremely lucky (yet I complain).

Sorry for the long post. I'm glad to be here among like-minded individuals. I hope everyone and their loved ones are safe and well.

[Karadeniz]

1. Well, you've been through the wringer! But, this will pass...❤

[defacto7]

2. Welcome to DU Bay

The world is a crazy place right now. I wish you the best in your new location and hope you will have smoother times ahead.

[Kali]

3. 17K

[Phoenix61]

4. It sounds like the move from hell. I'm so

sorry about Chandni. I hope she continues to get better. This virus will pass and you’ll be able to have all the fun you’ve been looking forward to. Hang in there.

[alittlelark]

5. ...... welcome..........................................

................................................................................. we all worry.

[sprinkleeninow]

6. 💜

[NBachers]

7. You've been through a bad ordeal. I'm reminded of bilge-class immigrants who made a perilous journey

here, losing family on the way, and found the bottom had dropped out from under them when they arrived.

It sounds like you have a stress reaction from all that has happened, and is happening.

You have family here at Democratic Underground. We care what happens to you and your family.

We are all drawing our borders closer around ourselves and focusing on what's close to us. Let go of what you can't change, for now. Take care of what's in your immediate vicinity. Everything will still be there, waiting for you, when you're able to step back into it.

There's a song by Scottish musician Dougie MacLean. There's no video; it's only music. I heard it on my car radio one day when life was falling apart for me. I pulled over and let it play right into my heart. I've carried it with me all these years. My gift to you, and anyone who needs it. Please listen to it and pay attention; then listen again and take it into your own heart.

http://www.angelfire.com/ne2/moonstar/carry.mp3

[DFW]

8. Dougie MacLean!!

I was once a guest on a folk music radio show on BFBS (British Forces Broadcasting Service), recorded in London but broadcast to British forces around the world. Must have been late 1983 or early 1984. They were featuring an album I had recorded with some friends from the Netherlands, but played music by other artists as well. That was the first time I heard anything by Dougie MacLean, and I just loved his soft, flowing songs. I played in numerous festivals in Germany in the 1970s ans 1980s, and ran into quite a few Scottish folkies (even Eric Bogle!), but I never met Dougie MacLean. I wish I had!

[NBachers]

9. Wow- He seems like a known and authentic guy. What a scene that must've been, playing & recording.

My son plays & records his own style of urban and hip-hop music with a loose group of people. Not my chosen style, but they put on a great show that gets everyone up & dancing.

When his Bulgarian wife was at University of Glasgow getting her Masters, he fell in with the music scene there, and his San Francisco origin gave him a certain entry into the scene. He forged a connection with local Scottish traditional musicians as well; even putting shows on in London and locally. They're living in east San Francisco Bay area now, but is still doing projects with the people they met over there. He'd love to be back there in the middle of it.

I heard the Dougie MacLean song on Fiona Richie's Thistle & Shamrock, a weekly American syndicated radio program, named after the national emblems of Scotland and Ireland, specializing in Celtic music.

[DFW]

10. This is going back over 40 years for me

At the first German folk festival I was asked to play for, the emphasis was on Scottish music. I was an outside oddity, but played several numbers with the Scots, as they were very open group.

I was sort of a Leo Kottke clone, and had my own minor following after that festival. I was sort of an enigma, as I spoke Geman, so everyone assumed I lived there. I didn't, but traveled there as often as I could to visit my then-girlfriend (now-wife).

Cilla Fisher, Iain MacKintosh, Hamish Imlach, Eric Bogle, Mike Whellans, and about 30 other names I've since forgotten--all friends I made during that first festival. Mike Whellans had played with a Celtic Group called the Boys of the Lough, who were headed by a famous Shetlands Islands fiddler named Aly Bain. I ran into Aly when the Boys of the Lough played in Boston when I was there in the mid 1970s.

Hamish drank like a fish, used to come on stage with a bottle of rum and cola that had just enough cola in it to provide the proper coloring. I knew he was destined for an early end, and sure enough, he died in his mid-50s. Iain Mackintosh died about 14 years ago. He was about 20 years older than I was. He had a signature song about an imaginative boy who used to see things in different colors, and whose imagination was suppressed by unimaginative teachers. "Red Flowers Are Red," or something like that. I think some American singer did it, too. I don't know what became of the rest of them, although Eric had moved to Australia, and was still doing concerts last I heard. He had some great anti-war songs. "No Man's Land" and "The Band Played Waltzing Matilda" were two of them that got some play, as I recall.

What a different world THAT was!! I had a great time at the festivals, but most of these people dulled their brains with alcohol and tobacco and had to watch their budgets when it came to ordering a salad and fries for dinner. I knew that in the long run, it wasn't for me. Sure, there are those magic moments when you complete your set, and the crowd rises to its feet, cheering and demanding more. You feel on top of the world. But the moment passes, and I experienced the lonely cheap hotel rooms when the crowd had gone home. Nope. I had my fifteen minutes. I figured I would somehow squeeze a little more than that out of life, and I did.