Lizada: Face shields

Papas Table

THE first time I wore the face shield, I felt like I was a teenager in the 70s. When I looked at myself, I realized that my shield was shaped like the bell-bottom pants of my youth. The top part seemed fine but the trouble began when it started to spread as it went downward, thus it really looked bell bottomy (no such word but it will do for this context.)

My face shield can never be mistaken for anything else because at the front of my forehead and the top the shield are the blazing letters FACE SHIELD!

Though it may sound like a joke, I hate wearing it. For one, because I already have a face mask, which is a discomfort for me because prolonged wear gives me rashes. My skin, unfortunately, is ultra-sensitive. So, I have a mask that gives me allergic reactions and I have to add a face shield and the result is allergies plus difficulty in breathing results in a very uneasy and irritated Rene. But I have no choice because those are the things needed to go out and in these times, I hate going out. Strictly speaking, it is not the going out that I dislike but what you do after you go out.

The first thing when I return from the outside is to have my hands sprayed with alcohol. I usually spend so much time disinfecting phones, money, cards (senior and credit), license, IDs, car keys, and whatever I brought with me.

I always have a balancing act when I change my shoes to my slippers. Then I have the UV tray, which I use for everything I brought along. I walk around the house like a zombie because my wife takes the shower first. To pass the time I sing, talk to the dogs, stare out in the garden, recall the latest K-drama episode. Anything. Except for touching things. When my hands are drowned in alcohol, then that is the time I with great hesitation touch the alcohol bottle to give myself one final woosh.

When my wife is done then my shower nightmare begins. I will not describe it anymore but let me say the ritual is both fierce and fastidious and it leaves me exhausted. In these times, I hate taking baths. But it is not over. There are so many things else to do. My wife, at some point, hid the alcohol because she realized I had become an "alcoholic." It usually takes me at least 45 minutes before I can finally plop in my head. By the time I am done, I am tired that the only thing I want to do is sleep.

Thus, I take my well-deserved rest until I have to go out again and put on my bell-bottom shield.


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