It Was 2020
Release

Thankfully, Jon comes home late Sunday. He tells Kay that he does have COVID-19, but he’s not the first case in Dane County. Apparently an individual that returned from a business trip on January 30th was the first case.

“They sent me home, Kay. They said that I’ve probably had the sickness since I got back and it’s gotten worse. They said my lungs look like I just got diagnosed but there’s nothing they can do. They said if I have any more trouble with breathing to come back immediately. Other than that, I’m on my own. Apparently I’m not sick enough to have a bed in the I.C.U. and I have to stay in my apartment and not go anywhere for at least 2 weeks. I’ve been to the grocery store, paid my bills in person, and even visited my brother and his kids. What do I tell them? What if they get sick because of me?”

Concerned, but unsure of what to do, Kay replies,

“Did they give you any medications? Something to help you feel better? Take care of yourself. As far as anyone else goes, if your family was sick, they would have told you, right? Call them if it makes you feel better. In the meantime, I can drop off groceries on Friday when I go shopping. I’ll knock and you can pick them up off your porch. How’s that sound?”

Jon had a brief coughing fit that doubled him over before he was able to reply.

“They gave me some cough medicine and hydrocodone for the pain. I have enough food to last until Friday for sure. If I run low, I’ll just order in. I’m not that hungry anyways. I’m going to call my brother real quick. I’ll see you Friday, Kay. Thanks.”

Jon slowly retreats into his apartment and closes his door. Kay hears him turn the lock and he walks away coughing.

“Poor guy.” She thinks. “He’s all alone for the next 2 weeks. Maybe he’ll feel up to talking when I stop by with groceries on Friday.”

Another week passes. Kay keeps taking precautions at work and watches those damnable leaves when she’s outside. She slapped one away from an elderly woman in a wheelchair. The poor lady thought Kay was trying to slap her and she popped that electric wheelchair into high gear before Kay could even begin to come up with a believable explanation.

“Probably for the best.” Kay thought. “What the hell would I have told her that she’d believe anyways?”

Kay swings by the Capitol Centre Market on her way home. As promised, she picks up some groceries and personal items for Jon and puts the bags in front of his door before knocking and stepping away.

No answer. She steps forward and knocks again, harder this time.

“Odd. He isn’t supposed to go anywhere and his truck is still here. Maybe he’s sleeping?”

This time she knocks long and loud, yells his name, and texts him. She figures he should hear at least one of these and he will know it’s Kay with his groceries.

Still no answer.

This time she hears his phone notification going off. It’s the annoying Tuturu tone that sounds like a little kid. Kay is pretty sure Jon didn’t know how to change the various sounds on his phone when he bought it. Regardless of why it’s that sound, she can distinctly hear it.

“Jon! Are you ok? Open the door.” Kay yells, frustrated and concerned. She offered to bring groceries but now he’s not answering. Why isn’t he answering?

“If you don’t open the door right now, I’m calling the police!”

Still no answer.

Kay calls 9-1-1.

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?” The operator sounds bored, Kay thinks.

“My neighbor isn’t answering his door. I brought him groceries. I know he’s home because I can hear his phone and his truck is outside.”

“Yes ma’am. Are you concerned for his health?”, the operator asks. She’s had estranged spouse calls before and this sounds similar.

Kay, now becoming frustrated, “Yes! He was diagnosed with COVID-19 and told to stay home. It’s been a week and I said I’d bring groceries and he’s not answering the door or his texts. He may have gotten worse. Please send help!”

The operator, now sensing the urgency, crisply responds, “Emergency units are on the way ma’am. They will be there in 5 minutes.”

A police unit with two officers, a fire truck, and an ambulance show up within seconds of each other. This would be a great introduction for a joke, but now is not the time for such frivolities.

One officer begins asking Kay questions while the other officer pounds on the door in an effort to get Jon’s attention. The fire truck is dismissed from the scene by the officer at the door. After the officer questions Kay, he rejoins his companion at the door of Jon’s apartment. They discuss alternatives, knowing that this is a unique situation involving Covid, and ultimately decide to knock the door down if the tenant doesn’t respond.

After another failed attempt at getting Jon’s attention, they break the door down and are immediately assailed with the stench of death. They replace Jon facedown in the hallway. His phone was still in his hand.

Upon investigation by the coroner, Jon’s lungs had crystalized so breathing was nearly impossible. When he started walking, this increased his breathing and decreased his oxygen levels while significantly increasing his pain. They assume he had been trying to dial 9-1-1 and passed out from the pain before he could do so. Had he made the phone call from his bed, and conserved oxygen, he may have lived. As it stands, the autopsy revealed that Jon had been dead for at least 48 hours.