The Inconvenience of a Quarantine

Starting week two of my quarantine. 

The last time I had a fever was when I got sick with dengue almost two years ago and I have not had a fever since.  I am pretty confident that I will not come down with Ebola.  In Lunsar ETC, I don’t recall any breaches or exposure.  The time I spent in the ETC donning PPE was miniscule compared to when I was in Bong ETU, Liberia when the patient exposure was intense and the crammed quarters made maneuvering among infected patients quite treacherous.  

Asymptomatic individual does not incubate the Ebola infection and yet asymptomatic volunteers are restricted in appearing in crowds which goes against evidenced based reasoning.  Because of that, I will be missing my daughter’s first one-person Art Show in Burlington, Vermont, this evening and the Harvard Law Review Banquet at the Harvard Club next week.  I don’t care that much about the banquet but I am sure sorry to miss the opening of the Art Show.  This will be her first since graduating from Rhode Island School of Design years ago. If anyone is in the Burlington area, do drop by and view her paintings.  Break a leg, Cara or as Grisela would say,"Break four legs!"

My brother and I always dabble in painting in our spare moments; when I was twelve my colored pencil drawing was chosen and made its way in a traveling exhibition in Asia along with a whole bunch of works submitted by other children.  My brother also submitted his painting bringing awareness to world hunger.  Now and then my daughter and I have our works exhibited at the Belmont Gallery of Art.  Last but not least, Cara’s great grandmother was like my brother and me, a self-taught painter, and sold her paintings on the weekends in Greenwich Village in New York. There may be some genetic components to Cara’s art talent but her styles and ideas are uniquely her own (www.cara-doo.com). 

Great Grandmother Amolia Selling her Paintings in Greenwich Village 

I might have harbored the wish to be an artist when I was young but the reality of a starving artist was looming too large for me.  I needed to be financially independent and I definitely had no desire to depend on a spouse or others for my survival; like my poor mother who did not have a choice.  Looking back I still think being a doctor is still the best decision I made.  In my next life if there was one, I would, without a doubt, choose to be a doctor again. 

My Painting: A Swan in Trent, Italy