Musings from a Lockdown State

If there’s one thing that the COVID-19 pandemic has illustrated, it’s that all of us on this planet are inextricably interconnected.

In times of disease spread, this may seem like a bad thing, but it’s also an opportunity to pause and reflect that no matter where we live, we all belong to the same species. We are all vulnerable to the coronavirus, no matter whether someone is a high-profile lawmaker, a movie star, a famous athlete or the custodian at an elementary school.

So this is similarly a good time to think about the importance of sharing resources and considering the common good. I’m looking at you, Ms. “I’m-cramming-three-packs-of-toilet-paper-into-my-cart-even-though-the-limit-is-one.” C’mon, don’t be like that. Leave the stampeding to cattle herds. And the rebellious college students who feel the right to crowd beaches for Spring Break celebrations? Time to grow up.

We should be above that. And I believe we are.

As many hiccups as there have been, communities are adjusting to the changing situations at a breakneck pace. My university has ordered all “non-essential” personnel to work from home, within a week, we scrambled to move meetings online and eke out a research plan. Likewise, university courses are transitioning to an online platform, as is my kids’ high school. Restaurants have switched to take-out wherever possible. And my daughter joined her fellow fencers for a ZOOM training session with their coach last night.

This is not to say that this has been effortless. My daughter will probably lose her restaurant job, which means that she won’t have the income to continue fencing, as the classes are a financial burden on our family. But she has a place to live, food to eat and incoming college acceptance letters. Others are losing their livelihood and looking at a far bleaker future. Many of our favorite small businesses are suffering. Therefore, as much gratitude as I have for the ability to work from home and not face immediate financial consequences, I have great compassion for those who are struggling through what could be a long and difficult situation.

Blink and the numbers increase…

And this isn’t even counting the number of infected individuals, some with severe complications. These days, “hot spots” are less about internet connections and more about loss of life. Few saw this coming and we won’t see the end of it for some time to come. My heart goes out to COVID-19 patients, their loved ones and the uncertainties they all face.

At the same time, I’m concerned about a group with which I’m more familiar: newly-diagnosed cancer patients. Getting a cancer diagnosis is frightening enough; getting that diagnosis when the treatment for the disease puts you at significantly higher risk for succumbing to a global pandemic is unimaginably unfair.

This is painful, so I look for the bright spots in the world: the clothing designers distributing patterns for people to make their own masks so they don’t compete with hospitals for supplies, and the designers making gowns, scrubs and face mask covers for doctors; the local seamstresses who are firing up their sewing machines and using their skills in the same way; the alcohol distilleries and perfume producers who are switching to making hand sanitizer; the millions of dollars raised to support intensive care units. All this gives me hope that we are bigger than the virus and we’ll pull ourselves out of this.

Emergency Preparedness, Inside-Out

We have spent the last couple of weeks in various hunting-gathering trips in preparation for a possible coronavirus lockdown. Yes, we got enough toilet paper, but not multiple mega packs, as there is no place to store them. We bought a little extra frozen food, but space is limited in the freezer, just as it is in the fridge.

When in doubt, bidet!

Being a mainly vegetarian family, we consume a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables, and those have to be procured on a frequent basis. Hoarding is not a real possibility at our place: we have no garage, basement or pantry. And I don’t consider a 30-roll pack of TP to be proper living room furniture.

Luckily, we have ample soap and I have the large bottle of hand sanitizer that I kept at work when I was going through chemo (think: it’s been a few years). Also thanks to cancer: a generously-sized box of surgical face masks that we will be dipping into, should one of us start feeling ill.

Finally, in a “clouds parted and a ray of light shone down”-type of serendipitous luck, we found a bag of N95 respirators in the back of our coat closet. Usually one finds old tennis rackets or worn shoes. We find items that someone might strangle us for.

One of my brothers had stocked up on the respirators during the devastating fires in Northern California, only to unload them on us during a visit here. I always complain when he leaves stuff at our place, but I’m feeling much more accepting of it now. My kids are planning to sell them to finance their college educations. (kidding!)

So we’ve prepped as much as we can, for the amount of space that we have. And while it’s not a lot, I believe it’s enough for several weeks.

But where I’m engaging in some serious “hoarding” is greedily protecting my daily meditation time. If there were ever a time to practice mindfulness, it’s now.

This is not the end.

Consider this: during a trip to Costco a week ago, people were going nuts with toilet paper, as if it were a finite commodity and if we didn’t get it now, we’d be wiping our butts with tree leaves and old homework assignments for the rest of our lives.

It’s easy to laugh, but I myself felt a sudden bolt of urgency watching people squeeze nine months’ worth of toilet paper into their cars. It was difficult to resist.

Many people were operating as if with blinders on. At that same Costco, the check-out line for one cashier stretched all the way back to the bakery section. If you’re familiar with these enormous warehouse stores, you know that baked goods are way in the back. That is a crazy-long line!

What those shoppers didn’t realize was that the lines for the other cashiers were only one or two people long. But few people looked through the aisles enough to realize that. They simply saw a line and got in it, assuming that everyone else knew what they were doing.

Clearly, they didn’t

This is a perfect example of the need to slow down, take a deep breath and spend the time to understand what’s going on. In the face of unprecedented events, panic seems like a decent option. But just doing something–ANYTHING–isn’t the same as doing something useful.

Relax. You’ll use less toilet paper that way.

Look, I get it. This is scary. As a cancer survivor, my white blood cell count remains depressed, and although my oncologist doesn’t think I’m in danger of dying from COVID-19, that doesn’t mean I can’t contract it. If I did, maybe it would tax my system more and send me to the hospital. There are so many uncertainties that I have to live with. The best thing I can do is to be mindful of what’s going on, accepting of what I can’t change, and rational about the rest.

So my wish for all of us going through surreal times for which we have no operating instructions is to listen to reputable sources, drop the conspiracy theories, pause and think. Don’t rush simply because everyone else is. Breathe. When this pandemic has subsided, there will be more toilet paper. I promise.