Cheryl: (in line at doctor’s office) Weird—I can hardly see wearing this mask . (Looks up, looks down. Looks up, looks down. Looks up—)
Receptionist: You can pinch the top of your mask around your nose. Then it won’t cover your eyes.
Cheryl: Oh. Thanks. (Pinches mask and starts to walk away.)
Receptionist: Ms. Reifsnyder? You still need to sign this?
Cheryl: Sorry. (Signs and starts to walk away.)
Receptionist: Ms. Reifsnyder—your check-in papers?
Cheryl: Oh. Sorry. (Gets papers and tries to cough while wearing mask. Mask sucks into mouth.)
Receptionist: You can go now.
Cheryl: (Walking upstairs to waiting room) Wow, (breath) I can’t take a deep breath in this thing. Just (breath) lots of (breath) short (breath) small (breath) breaths (breath). Cool (breath) it makes (breath) my mask (breath) flap (breath) in and (breath) out.
Nurse: Excuse me. Ma’am? Long, deep breaths please. You’re going to get dizzy.
***So—I’m taking lots and lots of notes on the sensations of mask-wearing, back-thumping, dizziness, and other illness-related details which I’m sure will prove very, very useful in my writing someday soon.
…just as soon as I feel well enough to write something that makes sense!