December 9, 2022

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Moderate cycle - Dagsavisen

Moderate cycle – Dagsavisen

I got acquainted with great-grandmothers and great-grandmothers who spoke openly about the war. I was a grumpy and impatient teenager who would rather be with my friends. But I was in an iron grip by old ladies in armchairs, and they never finished with tales about the forced eviction of Finnmark, the boys on the show at Telemark, and otherwise about everything from staying in concentration camps in Germany to how difficult it was. For eggs to pancakes. The grandmothers started, “If you should have been part of the war,” she sighed heavily.

But I’ve found relief and therapy lately in the thought that the hour of vengeance would come one day. One day I will surely become a talkative grandmother, who can expose a defenseless granddaughter to endless tales of a time amazing and dramatic, but gone. Because we are not writing world history now, in the time of the epidemic? If you should have been part of the epidemic,” I will say. “During the great epidemic, you see, not everything was so simple as it is today, you have to believe it.”

It may not be entirely certain that my teenage granddaughter will like the long stories about coronavirus press conferences, home offices, face masks, vaccines, and concerns about the intensive care capacity of an overburdened health care system. see her.

But now I already have an interesting story that I can come up with, which will make my grandson open his eyes. “Before Christmas in 2021, I was already infected, too. From the dreaded Delta virus!” I say. To my satisfaction, I now see a glimmer of interest in her sullen teenage face. “Are you?” Are you really sick, or? Did you have to go to the hospital? » she asks eagerly. “No, I was vaccinated with two doses, so I didn’t get so sick that I had to use a ventilator and the like. I probably had, uh, what they called a ‘moderate cycle’. But I had to stay in complete isolation for several days. We weren’t allowed to go out, and people had to deliver food to us on the stairs!” I say victoriously.

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“But how sick are you?” You ask, now a little more indifference. I told him, “I got really cold.” “And it went on for several days, yes, it was as if it would never end, and…” “But that wasn’t a cold, because I actually lost my sense of taste and smell too. I stood there frying gingerbread and smelled nothing! Fortunately! , my sense of smell came back a week later. The happiest moment of my life was when I could actually smell the perfume I got as a Christmas present.” “So the happiest moment of your life was when you smell something?” asks the teen sarcastically.

What a shameless, cocky young man! There will be no more cakes for her, so to speak.

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