Love in the Age of COVID-19
I... am not okay.
Last we left each other, I was counting down the days until I could eat sushi again. I have now discovered that my favorite sushi place is closed with no plans to reopen anytime soon.
It's fine. It's whatever. Talk about your first world problems, right?
Thing is, stuff is nuts right now. I mean, really off-the-wall bonkers stuff.
COVID-19. It's pretty much the only topic on social media right now, and we've got politicians wrapping themselves into knots to explain why it's not that big a deal or if it is then it's not their fault or how it would have been better if everyone had just listened before or why Obama's to blame for the current administration laying off the whole pandemic team back in 2018.
It's all pretty big stuff, unprecedented in my lifetime. It also feels surreal. Too big for me to wrap my head around.
Here's what I can wrap my head around. I was excited to come back to teaching, because I'd spent so long in isolation that I was totally willing to wear a claustrophobia-inducing face mask in order to have some in-person connection with my students.
Surprise.
All classes at the university (I can no longer call it "my" university) are moved online, if at all possible. It's a good call. Totally sensible, given the situation.
It also sucks.
I guess this is really where the rubber meets the road, right? I've always thought of myself as being a weird introvert-extrovert mix.
Nope.
Turns out, I'm an extrovert who hates small talk. Or who can't read social cues. Or over-reads social cues. Or who's incredibly socially awkward. Dealer's choice.
This is all super smart. The whole social distancing thing will give our healthcare system a fighting chance when this thing balloons fully, which will happen at some point fairly soon, I'm guessing.
It's also pretty much the safest thing that could have happened to me at this point. My work is asking me to teach from home. Crisis averted, right?
But I'm a social creature. I want to be where the people are.
I'm also sick.
Don't freak out.
I seem to have caught a stomach flu that's making life miserable for me, but nothing that seems hospital-worthy. That's a huge deal, because the common cold could land me in the ICU right now. But no COVID-19 or anything. Not yet.
I've been wallowing a bit lately. Okay, "a bit" might be a slight evasion.
I have been a gigantic whiny man-baby.
So much "woe is me" stuff that anyone in my direct vicinity deserves a universal basic income just for dealing with it. And what's worse, when I whinge, I do so with a big vocabulary. That makes it SO MUCH WORSE. A thousand apologies for those who have had to deal with this (Aimee, looking at you, babe).
I somehow managed to avoid the whole "why me?" thing during cancer treatment. But it's come back around in a big way. Like somehow, because I've dealt with two cancers, I should get a free pass indefinitely. Or at least a couple of months, you know?
That's not how things work, though. Tough times come upon us all, in very different ways.
I will say this, Utah. A 5.7 magnitude quake followed by aftershocks? Well played. Well played, indeed.
Back to tough times. It feels in many ways apocalyptic, doesn't it? Everything shutting down. People hoarding nonessential items for some ungodly reason. Folks running around in masks (at least I don't feel like quite as much of a freak right now, just like someone who took a good mask from the pros who desperately need them right now).
There's definitely a darkness to all of this. A bleakness that's easily intensified by the isolation being asked of us. Super easy for someone like me to slip into a depression coma that's nearly impossible to get out of. Yes, I deal with depression. Yes, I medicate. Yes, I seek professional help.
There's also another way to look at things. We're doing this to protect the most vulnerable amongst us. Right now, that's me. Every moment I see a post of families doing things indoors instead of going out, that's an act that is benefitting me, and many others who have it worse off than I do.
Yes, I see the other stuff, too. The denial. The conspiracy theories. The "eff it, Imma do what I want" mentality. But that's just unacknowledged fear. For many, when we don't know what to do to fix something, it's easier to pretend it doesn't exist. It makes me sad, but I totally get it. I engage in some levels of it, to be perfectly honest.
But for those who are thinking consciously, conscientiously, collectively... they get all of my love and tears right now. They're saving my life, and on some level, they get that they are. Not me, personally. But the idea of someone like me. Someone whose immune system has been thrown into the wood chipper, with no clear idea of exactly when it'll be back to normal.
Normal.
Ah, I want it so badly I can almost taste it.
I've always been weird, from the time I was little. Things that other kids figured out pretty quickly took me a lot of time and effort to understand, and the sensitivities underneath got pretty savaged along the way. I learned some pretty negative coping skills that have taken me a very long time to start to unpack and heal.
But normal.
To be able to eat whatever I want, without worrying what it will do to my mouth, to my stomach, to my digestive tract... To be able to go amongst a crowd of people without a mask or obsessively sanitizing my hands... To be able to eat eggs over easy once again...
To dream the impossible dream.
Once more, this is all just a matter of perspective. Nothing is normal right now. If nothing is normal, then everything's weird, which brings it back around to normal. So, guess what? I'm officially normal! Or as normal as it's possible for me to get.
Do not question my logic on this.
I made it through two cancers, y'all! Two!! And weird ones, at that. I won't know the exact lay of the land until we do the next PET scan around the end of April, but all signs point to good news. The radiation and maintenance chemo aren't totally messing with me so far, so the preventative measures we have in place are humming along just fine. I have employment during a time when employment is a BIG DEAL. Then, once this whole thing is over, I'll figure stuff out. There is so much for me to be grateful for.
I'm alive. I'm surrounded by love. I'm employed. I'm as safe as it's possible for me to be right now.
So. What can I do to help? You know, from a slight distance.
----------------------
Next up, we frame COVID-19 as a metaphor for the digital age. Yikes.
 |
| Is that true, though? I'm beginning to question that. |
Last we left each other, I was counting down the days until I could eat sushi again. I have now discovered that my favorite sushi place is closed with no plans to reopen anytime soon.
It's fine. It's whatever. Talk about your first world problems, right?
Thing is, stuff is nuts right now. I mean, really off-the-wall bonkers stuff.
COVID-19. It's pretty much the only topic on social media right now, and we've got politicians wrapping themselves into knots to explain why it's not that big a deal or if it is then it's not their fault or how it would have been better if everyone had just listened before or why Obama's to blame for the current administration laying off the whole pandemic team back in 2018.
It's all pretty big stuff, unprecedented in my lifetime. It also feels surreal. Too big for me to wrap my head around.
Here's what I can wrap my head around. I was excited to come back to teaching, because I'd spent so long in isolation that I was totally willing to wear a claustrophobia-inducing face mask in order to have some in-person connection with my students.
Surprise.
 |
| What exactly is happening in this photo? It's a conundrum. |
All classes at the university (I can no longer call it "my" university) are moved online, if at all possible. It's a good call. Totally sensible, given the situation.
It also sucks.
I guess this is really where the rubber meets the road, right? I've always thought of myself as being a weird introvert-extrovert mix.
Nope.
Turns out, I'm an extrovert who hates small talk. Or who can't read social cues. Or over-reads social cues. Or who's incredibly socially awkward. Dealer's choice.
This is all super smart. The whole social distancing thing will give our healthcare system a fighting chance when this thing balloons fully, which will happen at some point fairly soon, I'm guessing.
It's also pretty much the safest thing that could have happened to me at this point. My work is asking me to teach from home. Crisis averted, right?
But I'm a social creature. I want to be where the people are.
 |
| If you didn't see that coming, you have NOT been paying attention. |
I'm also sick.
Don't freak out.
I seem to have caught a stomach flu that's making life miserable for me, but nothing that seems hospital-worthy. That's a huge deal, because the common cold could land me in the ICU right now. But no COVID-19 or anything. Not yet.
I've been wallowing a bit lately. Okay, "a bit" might be a slight evasion.
I have been a gigantic whiny man-baby.
 |
| Ooo! I LOVE cheese! |
So much "woe is me" stuff that anyone in my direct vicinity deserves a universal basic income just for dealing with it. And what's worse, when I whinge, I do so with a big vocabulary. That makes it SO MUCH WORSE. A thousand apologies for those who have had to deal with this (Aimee, looking at you, babe).
I somehow managed to avoid the whole "why me?" thing during cancer treatment. But it's come back around in a big way. Like somehow, because I've dealt with two cancers, I should get a free pass indefinitely. Or at least a couple of months, you know?
That's not how things work, though. Tough times come upon us all, in very different ways.
I will say this, Utah. A 5.7 magnitude quake followed by aftershocks? Well played. Well played, indeed.
Back to tough times. It feels in many ways apocalyptic, doesn't it? Everything shutting down. People hoarding nonessential items for some ungodly reason. Folks running around in masks (at least I don't feel like quite as much of a freak right now, just like someone who took a good mask from the pros who desperately need them right now).
There's definitely a darkness to all of this. A bleakness that's easily intensified by the isolation being asked of us. Super easy for someone like me to slip into a depression coma that's nearly impossible to get out of. Yes, I deal with depression. Yes, I medicate. Yes, I seek professional help.
There's also another way to look at things. We're doing this to protect the most vulnerable amongst us. Right now, that's me. Every moment I see a post of families doing things indoors instead of going out, that's an act that is benefitting me, and many others who have it worse off than I do.
Yes, I see the other stuff, too. The denial. The conspiracy theories. The "eff it, Imma do what I want" mentality. But that's just unacknowledged fear. For many, when we don't know what to do to fix something, it's easier to pretend it doesn't exist. It makes me sad, but I totally get it. I engage in some levels of it, to be perfectly honest.
But for those who are thinking consciously, conscientiously, collectively... they get all of my love and tears right now. They're saving my life, and on some level, they get that they are. Not me, personally. But the idea of someone like me. Someone whose immune system has been thrown into the wood chipper, with no clear idea of exactly when it'll be back to normal.
Normal.
Ah, I want it so badly I can almost taste it.
I've always been weird, from the time I was little. Things that other kids figured out pretty quickly took me a lot of time and effort to understand, and the sensitivities underneath got pretty savaged along the way. I learned some pretty negative coping skills that have taken me a very long time to start to unpack and heal.
But normal.
To be able to eat whatever I want, without worrying what it will do to my mouth, to my stomach, to my digestive tract... To be able to go amongst a crowd of people without a mask or obsessively sanitizing my hands... To be able to eat eggs over easy once again...
To dream the impossible dream.
 |
| Again, you HAD to see that one coming. |
Once more, this is all just a matter of perspective. Nothing is normal right now. If nothing is normal, then everything's weird, which brings it back around to normal. So, guess what? I'm officially normal! Or as normal as it's possible for me to get.
Do not question my logic on this.
I made it through two cancers, y'all! Two!! And weird ones, at that. I won't know the exact lay of the land until we do the next PET scan around the end of April, but all signs point to good news. The radiation and maintenance chemo aren't totally messing with me so far, so the preventative measures we have in place are humming along just fine. I have employment during a time when employment is a BIG DEAL. Then, once this whole thing is over, I'll figure stuff out. There is so much for me to be grateful for.
I'm alive. I'm surrounded by love. I'm employed. I'm as safe as it's possible for me to be right now.
So. What can I do to help? You know, from a slight distance.
----------------------
Next up, we frame COVID-19 as a metaphor for the digital age. Yikes.
I'm not keeping score but this has to be one of your better posts!
ReplyDeleteYou beat two cancers and you will beat COVID-19 as well.
Now that you have identified what you want ("to be normal") you need to say when you want it. (Hint, the best answer is NOW... but your faith may not allow you to believe that is possible). That's fine. What can you believe? Write a date on your calendar: "NORMAL". Then be continually grateful (in advance), start counting down the days, and watch the miracle unfold. You'll see.