There are so many ways I’ve thought of to start this piece.
I thought about taking the random fact angle: Until recently, I’d heard the word “nasopharyngeal,” but didn’t really know what it meant.
Or the poetry approach. I decided against it because, despite the fact that it always comes to my mind when I find myself actually-really-truly sidelined with illness. Unfortunately, though, Dickinson’s guest who stopped for her when she didn’t have time to stop herself hits too close to home for so many, so I’ll just mention it.
I considered the dialog I shared with the nurse on the phone, starting with the sinking feeling I had when the phone actually rang. They only call for positive cases, or so I was informed by the sign taped to the plexiglass partition in the clinic.
Sub plans. I could have written about sub plans, but I thought that tack might not resonate with my readers who aren’t teachers. (Okay, I’ve only got a few readers, and my mom’s the only one who’s not a teacher, but still, it’s best to be safe.)
Finally, the ten days at home came to mind as a way to introduce the story. Ten days of living in my bedroom with my wife holding down the rest of the fort. It wasn’t a bad time, once I had my nest built, but it’s not something I want to do again.
I’m hesitant (but not hesitant enough, apparently) to add another thought after the “Finally” paragraph, but I could start by mentioning how the emotions around the topic kinda kill the pleasure of even writing about it.
Yes. I think I’ll go with that.