Health Matters

Coralee began her day and started the usual chores at her house. She rubbed some hot water on an old tea towel and dragged the towel across the countertop and under the bamboo chop block. Then she mopped the floor, unhappy and depressed. Her mother, Jenna, had come down for the week and suggested she use common and safer cleansers. Any would do, even natural ones. The house had become messy and neglected, and a musty odor permeated the walls and drapes. Smoke from Marlboro Reds left brown shadows on the walls.

Jenna spoke up, “Coralee, you know you can make your home better when you use a spray cleaner. And your house would smell wonderful.” Coralee always had a rebel streak and tended to reject what her mother told her.

Upset at that remark, Coralee retorted, “Look here. Just because you have a fancy college degree don’t mean you know jack about my house. Tap water has no dangerous stuff, the way God wants us to be.” She pulled the trash bag out of the can and replaced the bag. “That smell was from John’s smokes all those years.” She took the full bag out to the black can by the garage.

Jenna answered, “But they’ve proven that bleach erases germs. Completely negates them. And that’s the smell around here. At least use Joy or Dawn detergent on the plates.” She looked at the stack of cookware by the toaster, food crumbs and runny eggs caked on from breakfast. “Why don’t you let me do these for you.” She hated to come off as better-than-thou, but she also wanted her daughter to get up-to-date data on necessary health enhancements.

“Don’t use any of that green stuff you brought. That smells awful. Hot water and a good scrub. That’s all.”

Jenna lowered her head and wondered why her daughter hated fact-based truths. Coralee lost her husband three years ago and needed help to preserve the house. Jenna added, “Then at least let me run out to the store and get some food.” She started to jot down needed goods on her phone.

Coralee agreed. “OK. Whole-not 2%, bananas, frozen lasagna, frozen heat-ups, hot dogs, lunchmeat or Lunchables, and Sunny-D.” Her daughter, Dora, loved Sunny-D, and momma wanted to make sure she was happy. “Beef jerky, donut holes, chocolate syrup, and sausage for breakfast.”

“How about food more…healthful? That frozen stuff has been overprocessed and made unhealthy. We can make good food from scratch. And how about real OJ for a change?” Jenna added. Money wasn’t a problem for Coralee after John’s death settlements were cashed out.

“We don’t need any other stuff. Just the usual.” Coralee watched as Dora entered the room. She was short for her age and smaller than an average four-year-old should be. She was pale and pockmarked from the pox she caught when she was just two years old. Her mother felt shots were unnecessary; they made newborns cry, she scoffed. Also, she’ll be at a real school next month, and she’s “just perfect,” Coralee boasted.

“Hey, Dora. Do you want to go to the store to help me?” Jenna asked her granddaughter.

“Ok. Lemme go brush my teeth.” Dora trotted off toward the bathroom, happy as can be. Jenna helped her brush her teeth. She looked at the tube of toothpaste that was barely used. “We only brush when we got company. Momma don’t want to waste toothpaste.” Dora rubbed her face on a towel that smelled vaguely of mold, and then she put the gross towel back up on the doorknob. “Ok. Let’s go!” Jenny awkwardly put the towel by the other grubby laundry. She’d do the wash when they got back.

Back near the den, Jenna looked around for masks. “Where do you keep your masks?”

“My what?”

Jenna paused, “Your masks. You and Dora haven’t gotten any shots, she needs to wear one near other people. You don’t want her to catch the newest germs out there. Just because 2020 has passed doesn’t mean the danger’s gone. A lot of people out and about have severe coughs and don’t look well at all.”

“Don’t want to hear squat about that. We don’t have no masks.” Coralee opened the pantry and took out a box of Hamburger Helper she wanted to prepare for lunch.

Jenna nodded and left the house. She drove Coralee’s car up to the front of the house, and Dora jumped onto the front seat and reached over to change the FM channel. Jenna buckled her seatbelt, looked at her, and asked, “What else do we do?”

Confused, Dora offered, “My shoes?”

“No, Dora. You’re four. You must go to the back seat and put your seatbelt on.” Jenna looked back and saw there was no booster seat.

“Oh, momma says we don’t need to.” Dora scrambled over the seat to the back. “And we don’t have the puffy bags that work.”

Jenna could barely acknowledge what she heard. Dora was allowed to roam freely around the car as she pleased. Yes, the Chevy was an older model, but the results would be the same. “Dora, a seatbelt may save you one day. Most people-” she paused. She couldn’t complete the sentence. ”-get thrown out of the car and crushed.”

“Most people what, Grandma?”

“Um, most people enjoy the safety of a seatbelt.”

“Oh, ok.”

They pulled up to the local grocery store, and Jenna searched through the pockets and folds of her purse and located some spare blue masks. She put hers on, then one on Dora, and they went to shop.

“The mask makes me a nurse. A good nurse one day.”

“Good goal, Dora,” Jenna answered. “That’s perfect for you.

They pushed the cart around and gathered the foodstuffs. Jenna added some home elements to the cart: wound creams, cough drops, alcohol, more toothpaste, a bottle of Dawn, and some bleach – necessary objects that would enhance safety around the house and help ease any malady for both. They even lacked bandages. She loved her daughter dearly but wondered how they became so opposed to each other.

They both had the same chances; Jenna had her health degree from a good college, but Coralee hated the thought of more school and wedded early to start her clan. Coralee’s older son, John, passed away from rubella because she and her husband agreed they’d have the toddlers grow up naturally - no strange chems forced on them. And she wouldn’t pay heed to anyone around her. Even after John Sr. passed away.

At the checkout, Dora stated, “Wanna read one day,” as she looked at the books and newspapers. “What do they say?” She gently touched a photo of heartbroken people huddled together as a group. “They look so sad.”

The photo was part of a story about one close group who lost four members to the newest bug labeled KP.2 more than three years after the lockdown ended. “They’re sad because,” she paused, “sadness happens.” She weakly expounded on the photo, but how could she get across the reason for shots and good health to a daughter whose mother never taught her?

They checked out and put the bags on the back seat. Dora remembered to get to the back and fumbled over the seatbelt, and then adjusted the buckle. “Look, Grandma. Done!” Then she meekly asked, “Keep the mask?”

“No, sweetheart. They’re for one use because of the germs.”

“What germs? There aren’t any germs on there.” She carefully looked at the mask. “Where?”

“The germs are very small and spread through your breath and float around.” Jenna felt odd as she addressed good health after months of lockdown protocols. “You have to be safe when you’re away from home.” Dora would need the facts to get her ready for school.

Once they got home, Jenna unpacked the bags and put the goods away. Her daughter noted the extra objects. Coralee eyed her and remarked, “Please take those home, OK?”

Jenna answered, “No, Coralee. You must hear me out. Good health should be treasured. And standard.” She told Coralee to have a seat at the table and poured some OJ for all three of them, Dora at the end of the table. Coralee dragged her hands across her pants and sat down, petulant as can be. She wore the face of someone who had heard these words before. “Coralee, you know your mother loves you. You know that. We both love Dora, too.” Dora looked gleeful. “And that’s why you need help.” Jenna gently pushed a book toward her daughter. “Here’s an easy-to-follow book on good health.” As she talked, she saw a letter from the school board on the table. “Oh, Dora’s school paperwork?”

“Yes,” Coralee returned, “but they won’t accept her unless she gets a bunch of shots. She wants to go to school and be happy. But they want some county people to damage her blood.”

“The shots aren’t fatal,” Jenna asserted, “Let’s take her together. Or you can stay home. You won’t even know.”

“But she’ll come home harmed. Damaged.”

“No, she’ll be OK. The shots really protect her and others from deadly germs. She shouldn’t have gotten the pox.” She looked over at the permanent marks on Dora’s face. “There’s a world out there that can help you. New research and developments have come a long way from when you were young. And they have cute masks now.”

“The new stuff has been wrong before. Look at the shots they gave women a bunch of years ago, and the newborns had stumps and no arms or legs.” Dora’s face showed concern.

“Yes,” Jenna agreed, “they collected data on people who weren’t pregnant. Actually,” she paused, “they recommend that shot now to older people who get nausea when they undergo chemo.”

“Chemo makes unhealthy people feel worse. That doesn’t make sense at all. You tell me shots are good but then they can be bad, too.”

Jenna took a deep breath. “Chemotherapy targets cancer, and yes, chemo can be awful. But the recovery process can get you better. Cancer runs through our clan. How was your last gynecology report?”

Coralee looked down. “Never had one. Costs too much.”

“WHAT?” Jenna shouted. “The local health department can help you out. You lost a dear aunt to cancer that could have been prevented had she gone to her doctor annually.” She took her daughter’s hands, and commented, “After John passed, we knew you were sad and out of sorts, but you must take care of yourself for Dora’s sake. And take care of Dora, too.”

Coralee took a few moments to collect her thoughts. She rolled her eyes. “After you provoked me to leave, you started to spout off about ‘data, data, data’ and ‘research blah blah,’ and we never accepted a word. But then John Jr. passed. The doctor told me rubella could have been prevented. We thought we’d be ok as we’ve always done. Then,” she looked at Dora, “my John left us, and we never have a chance to say good-bye.” Tears welled up. “They gave me that gold band. That’s all we have left on account of the heart attack that happened when we were on lockdown.” She took a Kleenex and dabbed her eyes. “Mom, we’re not healthy at all.”

Jenna looked her daughter. “And because your mother loves you, we’ll help you understand the latest research. Dad wants to be on board, too. He’ll be down soon. Our truths have evolved.” She looked at Dora, “You’ll pass the year through school wonderfully.” She addressed them both, “But you’ll both have to do what’s asked. OK?”

Coralee heaved a pent-up breath. “Guess we don’t have a say.” She looked at Dora. “We out here don’t understand any of the new stuff, but to lose anyone else…” She thought of the changes she was about to go through, and thought she’d never see the day her mother’s help was so much needed. She knew she had much to learn as she adjusted to the new normal, so she trotted out her sense of humor to help her through the change. “Got any Reese’s from the grocery store? Chocolate solves most problems around here.”

Jenna laughed, “Yes, chocolate does wonders.” She pulled out some small Almond Joys from her purse of wonders. “These always do the job when we need a small push.”