Timidly, Dr. Sean Conley approaches President Trump at Walter Reed, stands at attention, holds a tight salute, and says, “Sir, you really should stay a few more days. Your progress here has been remarkable.”
“It certainly has,” says Trump. “You have a dynamite team, and you’ve been treating a rare specimen. I feel better than I did twenty years ago.”
“That’s exceptional for any man of seventy-four, Mr. President, especially one who’s recently been diagnosed with the coronavirus and had a couple of difficult periods breathing.”
“They were very brief and in the distant past. I’m already breathing like an Olympic athlete.”
Dr. Conley looks worried before smiling as he says, “You’re not quite out of the woods yet, Mr. President.”
“Not only am I out of the woods, I’m out of here this afternoon. I’m going to show strength to the nation.”
Boosted by an unprecedented combination of antiviral cocktails and steroids, President Trump marches to his helicopter and returns to the White House where, striding across the lawn, he flashes thumbs up and fist pumps for cameras and, like a big cat, shoots up steps to the balcony where he rips off his mask, shoving it into his coat pocket, and juts his chin like the Duce invading Ethiopia. He poses, fat and healthy, before turning into his regal residence and exhaling all that’s within him.
President Trump soon offers inspiring words for everyone: “I’m a leader and I’m going back to work. Don’t be afraid of the coronavirus. It’s far less lethal than the flu. Don’t let it control your life. Go out and live. Live like your commander in chief. And quit talking about all those infected around me. They’ll soon be just fine.”