COVID-19 Thoughts I
The I in the title is not me, but a numeral. As in: These are the first of my thoughts about this pandemic. Let me be absolutely clear: I am not a trained medical anything. These thoughts are just a snapshot, from the perspective of the humanities, as I am human, and that is all I can provide.
I think at this point in time we're all thinking back to a couple of months ago, or at least, I know I'm thinking back to a couple months ago and remembering how nice things were. Little did we know that life as we knew it was about to change, very drastically, and very rapidly. I had four living grandparents two months ago; I now have only three. Two of my grandparent's actually contracted the disease; one of them lived, and one of them did not. That was the first moment that I realized things were serious.
Let me back up a couple of steps; I knew things were serious. I work as a teacher, and we had already begun remote learning at the time that my grandfather past away. We had already begun planning for a prolonged absence from our physical building. I had been reading and listening to the news, and I had a rough idea of what was happening, to the best of my abilities as someone who must get the majority of their information about the world through the internet. The week before we shut down, there was a weird atmosphere in the building. As if we all knew something was coming, but the things we did not know far outweighed the things that we did. We could see schools shutting down across the country, and even other schools in Maine. It was inevitable; the only questions seemed to be when and for how long?
Those questions were soon answered. We left on a Friday thinking we'd come back as normal the next Monday. It was announced on Sunday afternoon that we the teachers would indeed be coming to work, but our students would not be joining us. We spent one day making sure we could video conference, and calling all of our CBA students and making sure they were clear with what was going on. That day was the first day that gave me an inkling for what was to come. One of my colleagues said that day that, "it was only a matter of time before someone we know would be affected by coronavirus." Little did I know that it was going to be me.
The actual event, as most are, was underwhelming. On Thursday night I got a call from my dad, saying that my grandfather was in the hospital with pneumonia, but it was nothing to worry about; he was in good spirits and was strong. The next morning I got a text that he was unstable, then that they were doing CPR, and then that he had past. Just like that, I had become the one. It wasn't a coworker or friend that was going to be affected by coronavirus first; it was my family. After that moment, the reality of it really sank in. I saw people flagrantly disregarding social distancing guidelines and stay at home orders, and I became enraged. My heart rate would rise; I had a physical reaction.
So now, as many states move to reopen after being closed or under stay at home orders or mandatory quarantine, I am cautious. I am wary. I'm reading articles about how there was a spike in cases of the Spanish Flu in 1918 as soon as they lifted social distancing rules in St. Louis, and I'm thinking about the second and third wave of cases that ensued. I'm stressed because I can't honestly decide if the President is just playing a character or of that's the real person. We have at the top of the pyramid a person who flagrantly seems to disregard the things that I hold high in my world view. So now, I am skeptical.
How do you know that it's safe now? How do we know that we can go back to our normal lives? Will we ever be able to? Is 6 feet really enough space to keep between people? If 6 feet is good, wouldn't 10 feet be better? Now that we figured out that all those meetings could have been emails, why would we go back to meetings? When will we be able to have funerals again? When will we be able to have weddings again?
Through all of this, as we now begin to discuss and mull over possibilities for what a return to school will look like in the fall, I think of some advice that my grandmother gave on a family Zoom meeting. The advice came from her very good friend, and it is this: You can think about today, you can think about tomorrow. You might think a little about next week, if it's say, a Friday. Beyond that, you're nuts. There's no use in considering anything beyond next week. To do so is futile; our existence has been shifted, possibly for the rest of our lives, and we're still in it. We're still in the midst of a social and medical earthquake. My fear is that we haven't even begun to feel the aftershocks yet, and the people I witness around me are behaving like we're clear out of the woods.
I would love for there to be a point to this, but I can't think of one. This will just be another bit of bits clogging up the nets, hitting the feeds of the populous. Yet another perspective on the moments we are living through, together in our isolation, uniform in our uniqueness.
I think at this point in time we're all thinking back to a couple of months ago, or at least, I know I'm thinking back to a couple months ago and remembering how nice things were. Little did we know that life as we knew it was about to change, very drastically, and very rapidly. I had four living grandparents two months ago; I now have only three. Two of my grandparent's actually contracted the disease; one of them lived, and one of them did not. That was the first moment that I realized things were serious.
Let me back up a couple of steps; I knew things were serious. I work as a teacher, and we had already begun remote learning at the time that my grandfather past away. We had already begun planning for a prolonged absence from our physical building. I had been reading and listening to the news, and I had a rough idea of what was happening, to the best of my abilities as someone who must get the majority of their information about the world through the internet. The week before we shut down, there was a weird atmosphere in the building. As if we all knew something was coming, but the things we did not know far outweighed the things that we did. We could see schools shutting down across the country, and even other schools in Maine. It was inevitable; the only questions seemed to be when and for how long?
Those questions were soon answered. We left on a Friday thinking we'd come back as normal the next Monday. It was announced on Sunday afternoon that we the teachers would indeed be coming to work, but our students would not be joining us. We spent one day making sure we could video conference, and calling all of our CBA students and making sure they were clear with what was going on. That day was the first day that gave me an inkling for what was to come. One of my colleagues said that day that, "it was only a matter of time before someone we know would be affected by coronavirus." Little did I know that it was going to be me.
The actual event, as most are, was underwhelming. On Thursday night I got a call from my dad, saying that my grandfather was in the hospital with pneumonia, but it was nothing to worry about; he was in good spirits and was strong. The next morning I got a text that he was unstable, then that they were doing CPR, and then that he had past. Just like that, I had become the one. It wasn't a coworker or friend that was going to be affected by coronavirus first; it was my family. After that moment, the reality of it really sank in. I saw people flagrantly disregarding social distancing guidelines and stay at home orders, and I became enraged. My heart rate would rise; I had a physical reaction.
So now, as many states move to reopen after being closed or under stay at home orders or mandatory quarantine, I am cautious. I am wary. I'm reading articles about how there was a spike in cases of the Spanish Flu in 1918 as soon as they lifted social distancing rules in St. Louis, and I'm thinking about the second and third wave of cases that ensued. I'm stressed because I can't honestly decide if the President is just playing a character or of that's the real person. We have at the top of the pyramid a person who flagrantly seems to disregard the things that I hold high in my world view. So now, I am skeptical.
How do you know that it's safe now? How do we know that we can go back to our normal lives? Will we ever be able to? Is 6 feet really enough space to keep between people? If 6 feet is good, wouldn't 10 feet be better? Now that we figured out that all those meetings could have been emails, why would we go back to meetings? When will we be able to have funerals again? When will we be able to have weddings again?
Through all of this, as we now begin to discuss and mull over possibilities for what a return to school will look like in the fall, I think of some advice that my grandmother gave on a family Zoom meeting. The advice came from her very good friend, and it is this: You can think about today, you can think about tomorrow. You might think a little about next week, if it's say, a Friday. Beyond that, you're nuts. There's no use in considering anything beyond next week. To do so is futile; our existence has been shifted, possibly for the rest of our lives, and we're still in it. We're still in the midst of a social and medical earthquake. My fear is that we haven't even begun to feel the aftershocks yet, and the people I witness around me are behaving like we're clear out of the woods.
I would love for there to be a point to this, but I can't think of one. This will just be another bit of bits clogging up the nets, hitting the feeds of the populous. Yet another perspective on the moments we are living through, together in our isolation, uniform in our uniqueness.
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