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                My last hair cut was March 17. By mid-June, there wasn’t any evidence of my former style. Grey replaced brown. I felt unkempt and poorly groomed. The pride I once took in my appearance was gone.
After off-campus trips were canceled, my computer became my lifeline to the outside world. It allowed me to shop for many things I needed, and some I didn’t. One necessary purchase was masks, similar to surgical masks. It was something I never thought I’d need. After all, I was not a medical professional. Suddenly, it was part of my wardrobe.
Eventually, I needed to replenish supplies and food. Technology again proved to be invaluable. I scanned the virtual offerings, either on the Food Lion or Walmart websites. A few clicks of the mouse and my cart was full. After checking out and choosing
a pickup time, a Manor House employee was dispatched to the chosen location. A knock on my door, and the delivery was complete. I can’t imagine how this would have been possible without the internet.
When you’re in your seventies, every day counts. The loss of
travel days was regrettable. I planned to explore the surrounding communities during the cool spring weather. As spring eased into summer, I knew I would never recover that time. There was always fall and next spring to anticipate, but would the virus be gone by then? My current physical and mental health is not guaranteed. When we are free of the virus, will I still be able to function as I do now? Tomorrow is a blank page, and I’m not the author.
“The steel door cracked open”
A national shortage of testing supplies prevented early testing of Manor House residents. Acts finally acquired the needed materials, and on May 18 we were subjected to a painful, uncomfortable
nasal swab test. Testing results revealed eight positive cases, none showing symptoms. Immediately there was a lockdown, but only for a few days.
On June 5, the steel door cracked open. We were allowed to leave campus two days a week, without the self-isolation consequence. I

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