Day #193 Writing Through COVID-19: Nothing Gold Can Stay

Today was rough with my dad. His mental functioning is slipping precipitously. 

Earlier this week he wanted to set up Zoom on his desktop computer because his laptop connection is tenuous, causing image and audio lag. The Friendship Haven tech team said his desktop machine didn't have a camera or mic. So I ordered one, and on Friday they hooked it up. 

But today when I called to (hopefully!) Zoom and play Bridge, my dad couldn't log onto his email for the Zoom invite.

For 40 minutes I repeated these lines:

• "Do you see a red M on a white background that looks like an envelope?"
• "What do you see on your screen right now?"
• "Can you drag your cursor over those words?"
• "Now type g-o-o-g-l-e-period-c-o-m."
• "Do you see a red, yellow, and green circle with a blue dot in the middle?"
• "Click on that!"

My dad responded:

• "I see a black box."
• "It says 'h t t p colon slash slash m s n...'"
• "I'm clicking but nothing is happening." 
• "I see a lot of ads."
• "I don't see that."

Sometime during our painful conversation, my dad said, "I think I typed zeros instead of o's."

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My dad would have kept plugging away at our spirling Zoom fiasco until his heart gave out. It was up to me to call it quits. 
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Until today, I've always been able to talk my dad onto his Gmail and into our zoom meetings.

But when I heard him snap at my mom "Don't interrupt!" I knew he'd had enough.

I suggested I call again later. 

He agreed.

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This evening, we circumvented Gmail and logged directly onto Zoom with the meeting ID and password.

But my dad's audio still didn't work. We could see each other's faces, but could only hear voices through the phone.

This was less than ideal, but it gave me the chance to see and talk to my mom.

Immediately my eyes welled with tears. I told her I missed her. 

She said she's been blowing bubbles, which told me she remembered her days on the farm. 

I told her we're now harvesting the beans she watched grow each time she walked to the mailbox.

"We loved the time we spent with you," she said. 

"Wasn't that the best?" I asked. 

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My parents' COVID time here was golden for all three of us. 

Nothing gold can stay.

Enough.

Be well.

Write.

Allison

Wolf "saw" me today! He followed my image on FaceTime as Andrea moved the phone. I sang to him; he joined in with coos and smiles.