My brain, my gut, and Sister Mary Ruth--my high school English teacher--reacted to the news of Trump's Covid infection:
Gut: Gasps, adrenaline surge, animal excitement.
Brain: This could be the equivalent of the Clinton emails!
Gut: But what if Trump gets really sick/dies and the Proud Boys decide that it’s the Democrats’ fault?! (Fight/flight response sets in).
Brain: Serves Trump right that he got sick.
Sister Mary Ruth: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Brain: This could be the road to the first woman president!
Gut: Torrents of adrenaline flood system. Heart rate up. Feeling as if could—no, must—run a mile. Not an unpleasant sensation.
Sister Mary Ruth, warningly: Ahem!
Brain: Whiff of shame followed by twinge of conscience.
Gut: Pulse rate down. Desire to run mile vanishes.
Brain: But he KNEW that Hope Hicks had the virus and he STILL attended the fund raiser. He deserves what’s coming to him!
Sister Mary Ruth, wags finger: That’s enough, now.
Gut: Slight feelings of fatigue, or maybe indigestion. Also strange wired sensation, despite no additional coffee.
Brain: Would be wise to close laptop. Maybe take nap?
Gut: Must check updates. Trump cancels call with governors! Pence says Trump “just fine”! Should sic Sister Mary Ruth on VP, for telling fibs.
Mind: Speaking of which, what if whole thing is another one of Trump's lies?
Gut: Heart rate up again. Throat constricted. Nap? As if.
Sister Mary Ruth , quoting Saint Teresa: “Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you…all things are passing…God alone is sufficient.”
