So many things have happened the last few days it boggles my mind. We didn’t know that when we left Garden Crest that the deadly coronavirus had infected one of the residents and health authorities had placed a quarantine on the entire facility.
When we arrived at my daughter Judy’s apartment at Promenade West, where Danny and I are now living, we found Judy with both hands filled with stuff she was taking to a cabin retreat she owns in a nearby mountain city.
“Have a good trip,” I said and kissed her goodbye.
After a short stay, Danny and I went to the apartment door to leave. Suddenly, the door opened. The Promenade West director was standing there.
“Mr. Markoff,” she said, “you cannot leave here because you and Danny have come from Garden Crest where one of the residents caught and died from the contagious coronavirus. You might be unknowingly a carrier. You cannot leave here for 14 days.”
“Please give me a minute to talk to Danny,” I said.
“Danny,” I said, “I don’t mind staying here for the necessary 14 days, how do you feel about it?”
“I’ll make a phone call to my wife Gloria and stay here with you,” he said.
We spent the 14-day period pleasantly.
Quarantined, Danny had food delivered to our door.
We did a lot of reading. The L.A. Times was delivered to our door. We watched a lot of TV news programs and specials.
The 14-day lockdown period passed quickly.
Judy showed up. “Dad,” she said, “you have a choice. You can leave here and go back to Garden Crest or stay where you are.”
Turning to Danny, I said, “I’m staying. How do you feel?”
Danny answered, “Me, too.”