CAVAZOS DEFEATS COVID

When I came to Brownsville in April of 1975, I had to take classes at Pan Am and TSC in order to secure my teaching credential. I met Victor Cavazos that summer. I remember sitting under a tree on the campus and reading to him the first poem I ever published.

Victor lived in the Lakeside area and he had a older brother who lived off Riverside. There is a generation of Mexican-Americans with bright futures comprised of popular figures like Bobby Lerma and David Betancourt who were his good buddies. I would bump into Victor with his dad at greasy spoons downtown for breakfast and I would join him and his brother for beers at the Palm. All three of us were BISD educators.

Victor has never forgotten his roots. Es un vato de pura vida who has become a song writer and singer. He has probably written more songs that Bob Dylan. As time passed, Victor became a regular at Bobby Lerma's table at the Vermillion with David Betancourt buying the buckets.

Victor is the type of guy with whom you enjoy exchanging un abrazo. He's an authentic cabrón. He bought property east of town where he has built a small ranch. He has often invited me to join him in the countryside and share some birongas. Inexcusably, I have never taken him up on his invitation. My loss!

I was talking to Estanislao Contreras, the controversial poet of Chicano Fuck Songs, and he told me that Victor had gone mano-a-mano with COVID-19. After a 15-round slugfest, he had barely escaped with a split decision. 

He posted his no-holds-barred battle with his lethal foe on Facebook. Here is his succinct summary of his round-by-round account in which he had to rise from the canvas on several occasions. Writes the crooner:

Just so that you can know what I went through with the Coronavirus, I had all the symptoms that a 67-year-old man could experience.

It all started on June 24th. I woke up with a headache. Pain stretched from my neck, along my left shoulder and down my arm and hand.

I had no appetite. The little that I tasted, tasted salty. I had no sense of smell either. That went on for days. Then fever and diarrhea kicked in.

I started losing my breath. After coughing, much of my energy would drain out. Then the huffing and puffing began and it was hard to breath. The fever would continue with cold sweats at night. My pillow and bed were soaking wet.

My lungs started giving out. Coughing would continue during the day and especially at night. With the huffing and the puffing, I would get some of the oxygen back.

The worst were the cold chills. I felt like I was going to die. I was so cold that I just rolled up and cried out to my wife. She put some blankets and held me down because I was shaking all over. I'm glad I didn't die.

This continued for about 15 days. I got a bloody nose. Sometimes I would hallucinate shapes in color as well as talking a lot in my sleep.

After this travail, some of the symptoms stopped and some of my senses came back. I started eating regular meals that I craved. My lungs started functioning better. I didn't huff and puff as much. I'm still struggling with lung function, but I'm doing much better.

Coronavirus is still haunting me each and every day. I recall when the firemen came to pick me up one day. They said that I would have to have the tips of my toes and fingers blue in order for them to take me to the hospital. I'm glad they didn't take me. In my house my wife took care of me. There is no place like home.

MORAL OF THE STORY: THE CORONAVIRUS IS A LIVING HELL! KEEP SAFE! AND WEAR YOUR MASKS!