So I'm 42..43 in August - assuming that I, or maybe the world makes it that far.
A month ago, I would have said that that was just a melodramatic bit of a tantrum, and that my angsty post-goth hyperbole had bubbled through the fragile crust of my adult persona. But now we're in a pandemic. I have never felt more frightened, less safe, or more alone.
That's really odd, considering my husband is probably 8 feet from me playing video games.
This virus is something new - it manages to divide us physically and emotionally, geographically and idealistically, spiritually and pragmatically. Do I have it? No.
I don't think so anyhow. I think the odds are that if I did, my husband or I (or both of us) would already be among the ventilated. It seems impossible, after doing the math a thousand or more times, that we could both escape a dire case. He is possibly asthmatic - he has a rescue inhaler. I'm fat, and may have circulatory or respiratory issues. We (my doctor and I) were just beginning to explore that when his job folded, and the world went into free-fall
I spend my days reading articles, then rereading them. I'm scouring. I'm searching for a sliver of hope - something that says he will survive. My job is still intact - I'm essential
I work in a laboratory, and this week we will start testing for the virus directly. I tell myself that nothing has changed due to the fact that we've had patient specimen in for weeks now that has come back from our reference lab positive. Growing numbers each day.
We aren 't New York, or San Francisco, or Seattle, or Italy..or even Detroit. Yet. I have done the math. The death rate can be astronomical. More cases. More positive specimen. More chances to make a mistake. If not me, then maybe the person next to me. Then a few days later, we're sharing air..then...
I'm on edge today. I had the last two days off and I am supposed to be home tonight as well. Then it's back into the madness. I feel like death is lurking - just waiting for an opening.
When I sleep, I wake up wondering if I might be starting to develop symptoms. I worry I've infected my husband. Did I have my mask on correctly last time I worked? Did I sanitize enough? Did someone stand too close, or cough in the hallway I walked through? Were there aerosols still aloft? Did I breathe them?
Will I die?
Will he?
I haven't snuggled my husband in weeks now. I can't trust I was careful enough. I can't imagine a world without him. I can't imagine navigating the loneliness and emptiness I imagine. It's crushing. I can't breathe. Is it the virus? Is it panic?
Am I failing him by trying to protect him? Will he suddenly fall ill, and pass on without ever being held again? I hate the virus for setting fire to my life. I hate myself for not knowing what to do.
We argued a little while ago. I mentioned the coronavirus again and he is tired of hearing it. I don't know how to talk about anything else. I don't remember a world in which it wasn't the only topic. He doesn't know that I had walked into the room moments before because I missed touching him so badly I felt like I was starving. We sleep in separate rooms now because I'm afraid I'll bring it home to him. I try to imagine a time when things will be normal again, and it feels like the virus is a new roommate that will never move out again. I want to curl up in a ball and cry, but I'm physically too afraid to be able to connect to sadness. I can only identify it like it's the well behaved sibling as its sister, fear, leaps up and down and waves her arms for my attention.
I'm tired. My soul is tired. It's only been a few weeks. How can we do this for months..or years? There's talk of it becoming endemic - will it ever be safe again?
I miss the world.
A month ago, I would have said that that was just a melodramatic bit of a tantrum, and that my angsty post-goth hyperbole had bubbled through the fragile crust of my adult persona. But now we're in a pandemic. I have never felt more frightened, less safe, or more alone.
That's really odd, considering my husband is probably 8 feet from me playing video games.
This virus is something new - it manages to divide us physically and emotionally, geographically and idealistically, spiritually and pragmatically. Do I have it? No.
I don't think so anyhow. I think the odds are that if I did, my husband or I (or both of us) would already be among the ventilated. It seems impossible, after doing the math a thousand or more times, that we could both escape a dire case. He is possibly asthmatic - he has a rescue inhaler. I'm fat, and may have circulatory or respiratory issues. We (my doctor and I) were just beginning to explore that when his job folded, and the world went into free-fall
I spend my days reading articles, then rereading them. I'm scouring. I'm searching for a sliver of hope - something that says he will survive. My job is still intact - I'm essential
I work in a laboratory, and this week we will start testing for the virus directly. I tell myself that nothing has changed due to the fact that we've had patient specimen in for weeks now that has come back from our reference lab positive. Growing numbers each day.
We aren 't New York, or San Francisco, or Seattle, or Italy..or even Detroit. Yet. I have done the math. The death rate can be astronomical. More cases. More positive specimen. More chances to make a mistake. If not me, then maybe the person next to me. Then a few days later, we're sharing air..then...
I'm on edge today. I had the last two days off and I am supposed to be home tonight as well. Then it's back into the madness. I feel like death is lurking - just waiting for an opening.
When I sleep, I wake up wondering if I might be starting to develop symptoms. I worry I've infected my husband. Did I have my mask on correctly last time I worked? Did I sanitize enough? Did someone stand too close, or cough in the hallway I walked through? Were there aerosols still aloft? Did I breathe them?
Will I die?
Will he?
I haven't snuggled my husband in weeks now. I can't trust I was careful enough. I can't imagine a world without him. I can't imagine navigating the loneliness and emptiness I imagine. It's crushing. I can't breathe. Is it the virus? Is it panic?
Am I failing him by trying to protect him? Will he suddenly fall ill, and pass on without ever being held again? I hate the virus for setting fire to my life. I hate myself for not knowing what to do.
We argued a little while ago. I mentioned the coronavirus again and he is tired of hearing it. I don't know how to talk about anything else. I don't remember a world in which it wasn't the only topic. He doesn't know that I had walked into the room moments before because I missed touching him so badly I felt like I was starving. We sleep in separate rooms now because I'm afraid I'll bring it home to him. I try to imagine a time when things will be normal again, and it feels like the virus is a new roommate that will never move out again. I want to curl up in a ball and cry, but I'm physically too afraid to be able to connect to sadness. I can only identify it like it's the well behaved sibling as its sister, fear, leaps up and down and waves her arms for my attention.
I'm tired. My soul is tired. It's only been a few weeks. How can we do this for months..or years? There's talk of it becoming endemic - will it ever be safe again?
I miss the world.
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