My clairvoyant friend Namtab Pots declared that an asteroid will hit the earth on November. A quick google search revealed that the info wasn’t from his precognition, but from NASA. I didn’t bother to read the articles and scare myself any further, so I’ll just assume the worst that one day in November, while I’m eating a bar of Cloud 9 Peanut Butter, a huge rock will crash through the roof and flatten me. This, of course, will be a twist ending in our pandemic story, only to be told decades later when a new species evolves and learns archaeology and dredges up archaic documents of “humans”. Except that everything is digital, so nothing will survive. I must start blogging on rocks.

If I were to star on my own COVID tragedy movie it would start on March 13, 2020. While making rounds that morning I saw a frantic Dr. Invisigoth running along the hallways wearing an N-95 mask and goggles. He suddenly accosted me and told me to go home! Go home now! Send your patients home! I asked him what’s happening! I still have patients for chemotherapy today! Patient X is profusely bleeding and will need to undergo radiation therapy! Dr. Invisigoth insisted that I drop everything as soon as I can and send dischargable patients home. A sick-looking balikbayan from Italy has tested positive for the virus, Dr. Invisigoth said. Before finally getting admitted she was seen shivering and coughing and going around the facility. She even had lunch at the nearby mall. She is now in critical condition. In a few days Viber would go totally bonkers and cause severe anxiety, but it would become our window to the world. Doctors, some very close to us, would die. There would be collateral damage–many of my cancer patients would be crippled with fear and choose to postpone cancer treatment for as long as they can. Many died at home.

For some reason the prospect of an asteroid ending the virus threat reminds me of the fantastic X-Files two-parter Two Fathers/One Son. For decades those nasty little Zeta Reticulan aliens have been plaguing the earth in different ways, and Mulder and Scully couldn’t really do anything about it. In Two Fathers/One Son it is revealed that there is a renegade group of aliens who have protected themselves from the alien virus by mutilating their faces. They are henceforth called… The Faceless Rebels. In the end they defeat the waifish, big headed Grays and the conspirators within the government… by burning them to a crisp.

Back to reality: well who knows how the pandemic will end, if it even will. Cases are rising, economy is crashing. Things are getting bleaker! This could be a job… for Mulder and Scully!

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