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  • Writer's pictureJacob Skorka

Hello, My Name is Jacob and I Have Modern Day Leprosy. {in unison: Hi, Jacob}

Updated: Jan 9, 2022

Here, have a beer and let's talk about what it's like to be shunned. I hope you can taste yours.


I got The Vid. Sars-cov-2. COVID-19. The Rona. CORONAVIRUS


The rat bastard chased me down, caught me slipping, and hopped on for a ride on the good ol' immune system. It took more than a year to find me but it caught me sleeping at one hell of a time.


Here's how it happened, maybe, probably. I guess I have no way of knowing how I actually got it but this is how I imagine it happening:


It was a clear black night, a clear white moon, Skigidy Skorks on the streets trying to consume, some beers for the eve so I can get some funk just rollin' in my ride, chillin' all alone. JUST HIT THE EAST SIDE OF THE LBC ON A MISSION TRYIN' FIND MR. WARREN G.


Just kidding, those are lyrics from Warren G's Regulate. Here's where I was going with that.


It was a clear black night, on the eve of the eve of the day we celebrate Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., in the year of 2021. I was sitting on the end of a picnic table's bench, underneath a propane heater, inside of a tent, in the parking lot of Zuni Street Brewery. My beautiful wife was sitting to my right, across from her was her friend Elise. To Elise's right was our beloved CaseyJo, and to her left was a beautiful man named Turner. To Joslin's right was her magnificent friend, Gibs, who works at a Catholic school in San Diego and loves beer almost as much as I do {may peace be with your liver, sister}. Farther down the line was Gibs' roommate, Kenzie; a lively gal who has a bucket list as long as the Mississippi River. We were enjoying our evening. There were deep belly laughs and tear-filled eyes. Beers were flowing, tacos from the taco truck were being devoured, and we even had front row seats to some male-on-male doggy romance from Lewis the golden retriever at the table next door. His owner called him a "horndog" and politely reminded him that Otis was his cousin and, as it happens, also a boy dog. The evening was seemingly wrapping up when Elise, in traditional Elise fashion, "just happened to remember" that a friend of hers was having karaoke at her house. There was "no more than 15 people there" because of COVID, of course, and it "definitely was not a party," but the lot of us was invited. Gibs and Kenzie looked weary because they were traveling and did not want to gather in large groups, and Jos understood that concern and also wanted to spend some quality time with her friends. I, on the other hand, have a hard time turning down a good time and I just-so-happen to have a few karaoke BANGERS up my sleeve, just in case. I was in there like swimwear, ready to go sing my little heart out.


The decision was made to part ways for the evening, and Jos gave me a smooch on the mouth and a pat on the butt. "Go get 'em, baby! Don't come home scary," she yelled as I piled in the car with Elise, Casey, and Turner. "It's all for you!" I yelled back to remind her that I wouldn't let her down in her absence.


And off we went.


We pull up to a house that I have been to before. It's a crowded street, as always, so the number of cars didn't alarm me. As we parked, Elise alerts us that "the total number of people here is 12," which, at that point, she could have said 500 and nobody in the car really had an option of leaving. We jump out and make our way up the front steps of the home to be welcomed by no less than 25 people celebrating 3 birthdays in the only fashion that they know how to celebrate: drunk and loud. I knew about 4 people, so I made a B-line to the back corner of the kitchen where there was a refrigerator. Where there is a refrigerator there is beer. I made a quick and executive decision that I would hunker down in the corner and if anybody would like to talk to me, they can come to me. Much to my surprise, there was also chips and queso next to the refrigerator full of beer. I had freaking won. But I think this is where I actually lost.


I think that it was there, at the bowl of chips, that I fell asleep on this global health crisis. It knew my weakness. It was lurking in the shadows of a dimly lit kitchen. That's where sars jumped into a bowl of tortilla chips and cov made her way into the crock pot full of queso. I grabbed a chip, sars leaped for glory and hung on for dear life. I dunked the chip into the queso where cov was waiting not-so-patiently for her lover to execute their childish scheme. When the chip entered the queso they became 2. I ate the queso covered chip and sars-cov-2 find a nice home in my esophagus.


I woke up the next day and felt like 900,000 bucks. The other 100,000 was hidden at the bottom of an empty double shot Americano from Joslin's coffee shop. An hour after I woke up, I found that, and was feeling like a million bucks. I took Gibs and Kenzie on a nice drive through the mountains. Jos clocked out and we adventured through Red Rocks like a nice little family of 4 on vacation. Monday morning came around and it was a day of celebration. We were celebrating the King Jr. and I had never felt better. I spent the morning by myself. I had a cup of Joe on the couch while the girls explored Denver's capitol, and Kenzie was able to add a check to her bucket list. Tuesday was a great day as well, I felt as normal as normal can be, and on Wednesday I woke up with a bit of a sore throat. It was like I had slept with my mouth open all night and I needed to lubricate, ya know? In years past it would have just been a shitty morning to a normal workday. I took a DayQuil, felt better, did my thing, and had a great day. Thursday morning rolled around and I had some mild head congestion, almost like Wednesday was a bad allergy day and I woke up to a stuffed face. I told Joslin I was feeling a bit under the weather, but I always keep the words of the late Mac Miller in the back of my mind, "under the weather, things will get better." Her, being a kind and loving wife, immediately said, "you're getting tested today!" And, I did.


At 10 AM on the 21st day of the 21st year of the 21st century my sinus cavity was violated in a way that I had never experienced in my life. I had been tested for COVID before, but on that fateful day a small hispanic lady took out some personal frustration on the frontal lobe of my cranium and shoved a 3-foot long Q-tip as far as my head would allow her to do so before committing murder. If there was any hint of this virus anywhere in my nostril, she was going to find it, there was no doubt. Sure as shit, she did.


The next morning, I woke up and could not taste my homemade French-pressed coffee, and that was concerning. When Joslin came home from work, I told her that I was having trouble tasting so she decided to give me a shot of lemon juice, which I could feel in my throat was a bit tart but could not taste what was touching my tongue.


Shit.


The writing is on the wall.


My test came back around 7:30 PM on Friday January 22, 2021 with a big ass plus sign. The email said, "hey, jackass, thanks for not social distancing yourself from that bowl of shared chips and pot full of warm, gooey, cheesy dip last weekend. You now have the Rona."


So here I am. Sitting on my couch with a mask on my face while my wife has nestled herself in the guest bedroom of our home. She carries around a can of Lysol and sprays me with it as she passes me in the hallway. I can't smell it, but she makes it a point for me to understand how awful it is for her to smell. I have a beer in my hand that tastes like a naturally flavored La Croix and I can't leave the house until next Sunday. I'm blaming Elise and her manipulation of people and plans. I realize that I have every bit of ability to make my own decisions but that's not what we're going to focus on.


So, here's to The Vid. I'll cheers a beer that I can't taste and encourage you to not get caught sleeping at the chips and queso of your next event.

 

Regulate by Warren G goes a little sum like dis

Banger is a hip term for "good song"

La Croix is a popular seltzer water brand

For the record, I feel fine now. I have no sore throat, no cough, no congestion. I never had a fever, and still don't. I cannot smell anything, and I can only taste whiskey. This is bullshit.

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