I texted a friend in Seattle to ask how she was doing. She let me know she’s alright, but it’s hard to focus when working from home. Later she said it was hard to focus in general, with “the end of the world” going on, and that she wished she could check out, and wake up in a few months when this is all over. I rather agree.
Neither of us believes this is the so-called “end of days” nor do we think there’s any chance we can “just check out for a while.” But the ominous feeling is all around, and the cognitive burden feels so heavy. There’s no one to share the load with so we can take a break, because everyone is carrying their own load right now. No one is exempt from a global pandemic. Living in the richest country in the world and knowing we ran out of a $0.75 face mask in the early weeks of the outbreak reveals this country to be the third world nation a few residents already knew it to be. (Being white, middle class, and having almost always had health insurance, I’ve lived in a privileged version of America, but I cannot deny the darkness woven into our national fabric for so many, as this country was built on the brutal enslavement of other human beings. The same voices saying “grandparents and others are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good of the economy” are just repulsive echos of their ancestors, who justified slavery with economic arguments.)
I haven’t left the apartment in 10 days. I’ve been ill, and unable to get tested, I have no way of knowing if this is a run-of-the-mill common-cold coronavirus, or if I have the novel coronavirus COVID-19. I’m being treating with presumed bronchitis, per a telemedicine appointment where I was prescribed antibiotics, and assured that if I did have the novel coronavirus, a healthy person of my age would likely only have a mild case, and start to see a turn around at about 8 days. The jury is out on diagnosis because they have more pressing matters, like the shameful lack of test kits, PPE, and ventilators. I am to remain home until I am at least 3 days asymptomatic, a future date I am eager to get to. National, state, regional, and local parks are all shutting down as people fail to practice social distancing. When I do get out, I imagine it will be for little more than to buy groceries or check the mail at work, donning a mask and gloves, prepared to decontaminate my clothing and anything I bring into the apartment upon entry. For now, I am resting, and spraying things with bleach.
Quarantine is mentally exhausting and watching after a toddler is physically exhausting. You’d think we’d all be sleeping well when finally given the chance. I’ve heard most friends are drinking, or taking Unisom, or Klonopin, or stocking up on curbside delivery of cannabis. It’s hard to sleep when it feels like the end of the world.