Something To Sneeze At

I spent three days in the ICU.
My oxygen twice went askew.
I joy-rode in an SUV,
then flew home in a bird (whirly-).

I stared the virus in the face –
but started steroids, just in case.
Remdesivir I’m also on,
and one more: it’s Regeneron.

I learned a lot while I was sick,
while tweeting like a lunatic:
a dozen-plus sent in ALL CAPS.
(My status was kept under wraps.)

I told my docs I can’t conceive
you’ll keep me here past Monday eve.
And then, to prove I’m still electable,
staged a made-for-TV spectacle.

I stepped aboard my special chopper;
quite a visual show-stopper.
Landed on the White House lawn,
and promptly said: my virus – gone!

I came back from the brink of death
and climbed some stairs. Now, out of breath,
I pulled my mask off right away –
another arrogant display.

I stood there as I huffed and puffed,
with science once again rebuffed,
then walked inside, most likely spreading
droplets that I still was shedding.

I claimed while sick I’d learned a lot –
but not from books had I been taught.
What had I gleaned from this life lesson?
Truth – not COVID – needs suppression.