Wear A Damn Mask

I’m putting this out there because it needs to be said. I can see that as a chronically ill person and someone who is #HighRiskCovid19, as the world opens up, mine will be getting smaller. I’m seeing pictures of people on Facebook unmasked in bars and crowds. I guess even going to some peoples’ houses will be off limits because of the number of places they’ve been and the number of people they’ve been around, unmasked.

Just remember, this isn’t about you. I wear a mask for myself, but I also wear it because I would never want to be that person that is unknowingly sick and gets someone else sick. I care enough about other people to wear a damn mask. I read something that said if you are refusing to wear a mask and you think Black Lives Matter, think again, since COVID is hitting Black communities worse than many other groups. So if you really think Black Lives Matter, show it by wearing a mask.

I know that America is built on the ideal of individualism. And clearly, this ideal may lead to the downfall of America. Rather than think of wearing a mask as a threat to your own freedom, why don’t you think of it as a sign of solidarity and respect to wear a mask? I’m not telling anyone how to live their life, but I’m telling you how I’m going to be living mine. Because rather than go to the bar or eat in a restaurant, all I want to do is see my family and close friends. My sister is moving to another state and I’ve barely gotten to spend any time with her in the last three months due to COVID and that absolutely sucks. I think you’ll survive some missed nights out at the bar. I’ll never get back missed time with the people I love, and given what happened to my dad, I know how precious time is.

So for now, I guess my trips to the grocery store every other week will continue to be my main mode of excitement for the foreseeable future. And if I get invited somewhere, it’s likely my declinations will become more frequent. With chronic illness, it’s always a possibility that I’ll have to decline invitations and cancel plans at the last minute, but as much of a pain as that was, it was on my terms. It’s because I didn’t feel well or was in too much pain to partake in an activity. Now, I will be doing this for reasons external to me. I will being doing it because a friendly invitation will be sidetracked by concerns over where you’ve been or who you’ve been in contact with because you’ve established a pattern of behavior that proves who and what you care about, and it’s clearly not me or anyone else.

I’ve seen a lot on social media of people with Cystic Fibrosis posting pictures wearing masks and a pulse ox, and showing that their oxygen levels are fine, so yours should be too. I’ve also seen the fake card that was created by people trying to exploit the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) by claiming they have medical conditions that prevent them from wearing a mask. If that’s true, don’t wear a mask, but if you’re making stuff up, wear a mask. It’s that simple.

Wearing a mask could mean the difference between quarantine ending and life slowly returning to whatever the post-COVID “new normal” will be. Not wearing a mask could mean continued, unfettered spread, another round or multiple rounds of full lock down, and more deaths. 

If you’re not wearing a mask simply because you don’t feel like it, or you think rules don’t matter for you, or you feel that wearing a mask is an affront to your freedom of expression, remember this moment. Remember when you were called on to do something for someone else and instead you put your own needs above everyone else’s. Remember when you decided that a night at the bar was more important than the lives of anyone you may come into contact with. Remember that thinking you don’t have to wear a mask because I will is inherently ableist. And remember that not wearing a mask flies in the face of Black Lives Matter.  

In a nod to Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer, maybe you couldn’t “Fix The Damn Roads,” but maybe everyone can learn to “Wear A Damn Mask.”

(And I know someone will say that I was unmasked in the picture I posted on Facebook with my husband wearing our Jews For Black Lives shirts. True. But I was outside and the only other person there, who took the picture, was my brother-in-law. We took our masks off, more than six feet away from him, he took the picture, and we put our masks back on.)

Being Chronically Ill In The Age of COVID-19

(https://nypost.com/2020/05/20/end-new-york-citys-lockdown-now/)

I happened upon the May 23, 2020 issue of the New York Post and was greeted with “One Man’s Plea” regarding re-opening New York City, the crux of which was, “The elderly and infirm can continue to be isolated,” but the quarantine must end for everyone else.  

This trope makes me so angry.

Why is this narrative okay? Why is this thought process okay? Because we’re useless? Because our lives don’t matter? What I’ve learned from this pandemic is that a lot of people lack a sense of social responsibility. It should not be every person for themself. Like refusing to wear a mask because it may make you physically uncomfortable temporarily. But it may also save other peoples’ lives if you are asymptomatic but have COVID-19. Everyone’s actions in regard to this virus have consequences on other people. It’s not just you endangering your own life.

While I have been very much in support of the Governor of Michigan throughout the pandemic, I am somewhat dismayed at the lack of effort that has been put forth regarding at-risk populations.

Did you know that in the Governor’s plan for re-opening Michigan it is strongly suggested that at-risk people shelter-in-place through Stage 5? Stage 6 is post-pandemic. As in, there is a vaccine. Best case scenario, that’s six months away, but more than likely that’s 18 to 24 months away. And that’s really only if it’s not a live vaccine because that will mean that many at-risk individuals, including myself, won’t be able to get it. And that would mean that everyone who isn’t at risk that is already calling the vaccine “the government’s excuse to microchip us” would have to put their theories aside and get vaccinated for the sake of others, because many of us who would get it won’t be able to.

I’m sick of the crying and bellyaching about how people are minimally inconvenienced by wearing a mask. I’m angry that a lot of people are willing to throw away the lives of others. The “why should I give up my freedom for your life” is more “why should I give up my life for your freedom.” But really, it’s a false dichotomy. Such questions and decisions diminish us all. It is inherently ableist to think that the “elderly” and “infirm” can be thrown away.

We’re being forced, not into institutions, but into our own homes, where it is presumed we will stay and be quiet until the appointed time it is designated safe – if that ever happens – for us to re-enter the world. But we all have lives that exist outside of the four walls of our homes. And those lives are vibrant, valid, and as important as any one else’s.

So while I’m happy that everyone else’s life is opening up, restaurants and bars are re-opening, I’m sorry to say that I won’t be going. Because the reality is, the only one who is going to keep me safe is myself. And for now, that means staying at home.

***

As of this writing, the guidelines have changed. But at-risk individuals should still practice social distancing and wearing masks, while apparently no one else has to. Staying home is safer. Now we have a target, not on our backs but on our faces. This everyone-else-can-go-about-their-business is bullshit. And it’s tacky. The state basically re-published the guidelines and plastered on it “Reopening programs and services for older adults age 60+ and vulnerable individuals with underlying health conditions.” This isn’t progress, this is politics.

And we weren’t asked. As far as I can tell, no patients or doctors were consulted in this decision-making. And we deserve a place at the table. No evidence has been provided. And maybe there isn’t any, but if there isn’t, that should be disclosed. “We have no evidence to support our poor decision-making. Consult your health professionals for guidance.” Whatever. That’s better than what we’ve got. And what we’ve got is nothing. If, after careful thought, consideration, and planning, it is still deemed that the most realistic option is to shelter-in-place as much as possible, I will take it. But I cannot and will not accept no effort or thought being put into this decision.  

The reality is, this pandemic has brought into full relief the injustices that have always existed in this country, where minorities of any kind are at higher risk for worse outcomes of everything, including COVID-19. And as the last several weeks have shown time and again, at risk of death from many things other than deadly diseases, simply because of their minority status. 

So if this feels like a kiss off, it probably is. As I railed against this to a friend who is not chronically ill, she said that the state should have just put a post-it note on the document that said “be careful, good luck…” It’s basically akin to “stay safe out there.”

This is a failure of epic proportions. It’s not just a healthcare system that was unprepared, it’s a government that has been teetering on the brink for longer than we’d like to admit. It’s that America has never had a good safety net in place for the most vulnerable among us. And to think that altruistic people will remain so when they are out of work and struggling themselves is completely unrealistic and puts the blame everywhere other than where the blame should be.

So before newspapers like the New York Post give front-page status to a whiny baby, maybe they can make room for the people that need their voices to be heard. Maybe someone, for one minute, can try to understand that while I am lucky to have a home that is livable and clean, has functioning utilities, and is safe, being at home indefinitely may not be the best option, physically or emotionally, for me or any other high-risk person.

Ultimately, it’s about what we are willing to accept, as individuals and as a nation. Mitch Albom wrote more eloquently than I ever could about “acceptable losses” and how much we are willing to lose for the freedom to leave the house and move through society unfettered while the pandemic rages on, whether we want to admit it does or not (https://www.freep.com/story/sports/columnists/mitch-albom/2020/05/27/mitch-albom-coronavirus-100-000-covid-19-memorial-day/5251822002/).

Truly, I have very little desire to be anywhere but home right now. It’s not that I don’t yearn to get back to my life as it was before March 13, 2020. I do. But right now, everyone is a threat, those wearing masks less so than those who aren’t. I will live in a bubble that I didn’t consent to.

My chronic illnesses have morphed into something that I clearly haven’t accepted because in 12 years, with the exception of once, I’ve never had to accept this kind of personal protection. I never signed up for being chronically ill meaning that I’d be afraid to leave the house and I’d be afraid of every single person that I came in contact with. I never considered that what could be floating around in the outside world could be worse than what was going on inside my body. And I never expected that when everyone had to be weary of that threat that the resounding response would be “Not me. It’s not my responsibility.”

Because we know that “The elderly and infirm can continue to be isolated” isn’t just the plea of one man, but the plea of many.

A House Divided, But We Stand United

I am lucky that I have a job that is allowing me to work from home, potentially for the long haul. I am lucky that I have a company laptop, and that our house has a reliable internet connection and all of the other necessities that I need to be able to do my job from home.

And just to be clear, my company wasn’t set up for this. My set-up at work includes a laptop and an additional monitor, while the normal set-up is two monitors. I started working from a home a week before all hell broke loose, not realizing that this would become anything other than temporary situation.

On the other hand, my husband works at a big box store that has been open for the duration of the pandemic as it has been deemed “essential”. (No offense to my husband’s livelihood, but this #HighRiskCovid19 wife disagrees with that designation) His job cannot be done from home. His continuing to work unfortunately increases the risk level of bringing COVID into our house. Due to other issues, my husband didn’t work for several weeks when the pandemic was really starting to surge in Michigan. One thing his employer has done is provide a fair amount of additional paid and unpaid time. My husband basically takes several days off a week to limit exposure, but also to stretch the amount of time off he has to utilize.

And to be honest, we had the conversation of going without his income. If he felt the risk became too great, he could take unpaid leave. Unfortunately, when you live with someone who is #HighRiskCovid19 but doesn’t have COVID-19, that scenario doesn’t fit into any of the extra-extra time off categories. So just because I’m high risk and my husband lives with me and loves me, doesn’t mean that his employer (or anyone) feels that he should get over and above time off to minimize his risk, which subsequently becomes my risk. And it’s not just his employer. There seems to be a black hole for this type of situation.

And making this is decision wasn’t just about me. We had to consider my husband’s mental health. What would it be like for him to not have anything to do and nowhere to go all the time? On the flipside, we don’t want his mental health to suffer if the concern for risk at work becomes too great and he is anxious all the time about the risk to either of us.

While we could live without my husband’s income, we cannot live without his benefits, which means he has to work enough so that his paycheck is enough to cover our benefits.

We are lucky in so many ways. But this struggle is real. The decision for my husband to go back to work after his initial time off was something that we both agonized over. Because once the cat is out of the bag, there’s no turning back. If he ends up exposed, forget everything.

These are the steps we’ve taken to do what we can to minimize the risk of my husband getting exposed to COVID-19 and bringing it home and exposing me:

1.       My husband wears gloves and a mask at work;

2.      He leaves a change of clothes in the garage, changes in the garage when he gets home, and leaves his work clothes in the garage until he washes them;

3.      We got him his own thermometer to take his temperature – doesn’t seem like the best thing to share at this point (and I don’t trust the inexpensive forehead thermometers that we could share);

4.      We have a very small stock of our own gloves and masks so that he isn’t relying on his employer to provide PPE;

5.      He uses disposable items to transport and eat his lunch rather than using items from home, like reusable containers, bags, and utensils, so these items are not being brought back into our house. 

Of course, by virtue of my husband leaving the house and going into an environment with co-workers and customers coming from all over, there will never not be a risk. But we are doing the best we can with the situation we have, knowing that we are incredibly lucky to both still have jobs during this difficult time.

And while we are divided in our ability to work from home, we are united in the quest for both of us to stay COVID-free.

In This Age of Connection, Why Do I Feel So Disconnected?

Today, we are more connected than ever. There’s Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snap Chat, text, email, snail mail, Zoom, Face Time, Houseparty, and the list goes on and on. (I’m almost in my mid-30s, I’m trying to keep up with the times, but it’s getting hard) There are so many ways to connect outside of IRL in this age of social distancing, yet what I crave is connection. IRL.

I have nearly daily Zoom meetings for work and I get to see some of my co-workers that way, but it’s not the same.

And the funny part, coming from this introvert, is that all I want to do is see some of these people and hug them. (Ew, gross, so not a hugger, can’t believe I would even suggest that, so not work appropriate) And I know that when I do eventually get to see them, I won’t even be able to do that.

The prospect of continuing to work from home indefinitely is daunting. Not as much the productivity part of it as much as the camaraderie part of it. As much as co-workers can sometimes get on our nerves, I miss most of mine. I miss being able to walk from my office to their desk to talk to them or ask a question. I miss being able to wave “hello” in the morning when we arrive.

What’s interesting is that nearly all of my chronic illness relationships were born, and built, online. There’s only a few handfuls that I’ve gotten to meet IRL. And all of those relationships have truly been life sustaining, but we’ve never known any different. Being spread across the country and world, IRL is a luxury and not a guarantee, with different diagnoses, and different levels of illness and ability.

But now, even the relationships that were born and built IRL are being forced out of IRL and into the world of Face Time, Zoom, and Houseparty. And I really don’t like it. Like I said in my last post, you can keep malls and movie theaters, and I’ll add casinos, gyms, theme parks, and beaches. I don’t need those. I can make my life smaller. But what I can’t do is live without my peeps. I just cannot.

I saw my mom the other day very briefly and I hadn’t seen her in over a month. A MONTH. And she literally lives 10 minutes away. Some might say we’re being overly cautious and that we aren’t living life at our own expense. But honestly, as someone who is #HighRiskCovid19, is being too careful a thing?

Is my feeling of disconnection the price of keeping myself safe?

I fear that if we try and go back to “normal”, it will all fall apart. Is it really possible to get together, wear a mask and stay six feet apart? I believe the need for normalcy will trump (no pun intended) the need for being and remaining cautious.

We don’t want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. But what good is physical health if emotional health is non-existent?

I know that life as we knew it may never be the same as it was before the pandemic. I know that there are sacrifices everyone is having to make. But how do we balance the sacrifice with quality of life? How do we make life as we know it now just as fulfilling as life was pre-pandemic without jeopardizing our safety and the safety of others in the process? And how do we maintain connection when we are so physically disconnected?

When It’s Over, Will It Really Be Over?

I’ve had a lot of time over the past days and weeks to reflect on COVID-19 and my experiences as a chronically ill person. To say I’ve been scared is an understatement. At home, I feel safe. I’ve barely left my house in over six weeks, and don’t plan to unless I absolutely have to.

From a personal standpoint, what I’m struck by the most is that I’ve once again been forced to face my own mortality. This isn’t the first time, and I know it won’t be the last. And don’t get me wrong. The specter of this hangs over my head as a chronically ill person all the time, but there are some times when I feel it more than others, and now I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to not think about it.

When I was 7, my grandfather died. When he died, I think that was the first time that I really understood what death meant, and that eventually it comes for everyone.

When I was 22, I was diagnosed with lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. It felt like until that point, I had been plugged into a wall outlet and the plug had been pulled out. It felt like I was dragging an impossibly short cord.

Two years after my diagnosis, I got a pneumonia vaccine at the recommendation of my rheumatologist. To this day, no one is sure if the reaction I experienced was due to an allergy or because the vaccine had been administered incorrectly, or both. I spent three days in the hospital, almost lost my arm, and could have lost my life. It was the first time that I realized that these illnesses could kill me.

When I was 29, my dad died unexpectedly as a result of severe flooding in Michigan.  To that point, the worst thing that had ever happened to me was getting diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses. When my dad died, the worst thing that ever happened to me happened to someone else, happened to someone that I love(d).

Many things happen in life that we will never understand. They happen indiscriminately. But what really gets me about COVID-19 is that there were warnings. There were signs. There were things that could have been done to prevent it or mitigate its effects. And now, daily, hourly, people in our country are suffering and dying. And for what?

And those of us with chronic illnesses/disabilities have targets on our backs now more than ever. I know that I fear getting sick and not being able to get care if it is rationed to the degree that people are talking about.

I’m also frustrated, because as things start to reopen, I know that my life will not reopen like it will for healthy people. I realize that my life won’t get back to “normal”. And that’s when I realize that I lost the luxury of “normal” 12 years ago, when I was diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses. I lost the luxury to make certain decisions that I would have made indiscriminately before, and are now made at the behest of my chronic illnesses. So for all those who celebrate the “new normal” that will come, for me, there will be a “new new normal”. Another mind- and heart-shift amongst many as a chronically ill person.

Right now, I don’t know what that “new new normal” will look like and I don’t know when it will occur or it already has. All I know is that when I left work the second week in March, knowing that I would be working from home, I never imagined that there wouldn’t be an end date. I never imagined that going to the grocery store, something I clearly took for granted before, is totally off limits to me now. I never thought I’d have to think about every move I make or every place I go. And I never thought I would have to justify my very existence to people I thought were friends. But in the age of COVID, nothing, and everything, is off limits at the same time.

The only thing that makes me feel more “normal” these days is that because COVID has sidelined everything, I’m going to doctors on a more normal schedule. My gynecologist cancelled my six-month follow-up and my dentist cancelled my every-three-month cleaning. Makes me wonder how essential they were all along. But for now, with no problems to speak of in those areas (knock-on-wood), I’ll take the break. Because going to the doctor right now, if I don’t need to, feels like more of a risk than it’s worth.     

I am grateful for many things, and know that I am in a position that not everyone can be in right now. I have a job that is allowing me to work from home. I still get a paycheck. I am able to afford what I need. But I miss my family. I would like to be able to see them more than just through my side door. And that’s all I want. I don’t care about going to the mall or the movie theater. I just want to spend time with them, because as this pandemic has reinforced, life and time is something that we aren’t guaranteed.