Coronavirus Chronicles: Thinking the worst
There are two sides to the trepidation of the coronavirus lockdown. The first is the life disruption -- the economic chaos, thinking about toilet paper, getting stuck on the news and worrying about the pandemic, trying not to go stir crazy. Surprisingly, some if this hasn't been so bad. Yes, the news can stress me out, but that can be avoided or at least minimized. I miss the freedom to work somewhere other than the basement, but sheltering in place (which isn't official here but it seems most people are adhering to the recommendations) hasn't been so terrible.
The other side is the health equation: What if I or someone I love catches this? Although most people recover from it, there's always that fear that I'm the one whose lungs go crazy, or Michael's exercise-induced asthma has a bad reaction to this, or Lori or Ben struggle with the virus. I know the odds of that are low, both because of the isolation measures we're taking and just because for most people under 60, the disease is just an annoyance.
Yet, I find myself Googling "coronavirus asthma" or clicking when I see a news story that a younger person succumbed to the disease. Not thinking the worst is difficult when you don't trust your own lungs sometimes, and the constant bombardment of COVID-19 news can fuel hypochondria.
Even when the crisis isn't on my mind, it is. I've been falling asleep only to have my brain wake itself up 15 minutes later. This is something I just need to manage like any other stress.
Amid the neuroses, Day 11 was pleasant. Lori and I went for a long walk this morning; my work day was productive, and I'm already thinking the weekend isn't that far off. The president said today he hopes the country is back to normal by Easter, 19 days away. Although that's a figment of his ego, when this all started I was admittedly hopeful for Easter as well. Realistically, we're probably 40 days away from life just starting to return to normal.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, we're still doing well. The teenagers may not like this so much, but they have plenty to do in the house or immediately outside (away from others, of course). My work environment may feel limited, but I see the opportunities to stay engaged for when I'm not working. And with 60-degree temps forecast for all next week, there's more reason for hope. At the risk of sounding cliche, we just got to take it one day at a time.
The other side is the health equation: What if I or someone I love catches this? Although most people recover from it, there's always that fear that I'm the one whose lungs go crazy, or Michael's exercise-induced asthma has a bad reaction to this, or Lori or Ben struggle with the virus. I know the odds of that are low, both because of the isolation measures we're taking and just because for most people under 60, the disease is just an annoyance.
Yet, I find myself Googling "coronavirus asthma" or clicking when I see a news story that a younger person succumbed to the disease. Not thinking the worst is difficult when you don't trust your own lungs sometimes, and the constant bombardment of COVID-19 news can fuel hypochondria.
Even when the crisis isn't on my mind, it is. I've been falling asleep only to have my brain wake itself up 15 minutes later. This is something I just need to manage like any other stress.
Amid the neuroses, Day 11 was pleasant. Lori and I went for a long walk this morning; my work day was productive, and I'm already thinking the weekend isn't that far off. The president said today he hopes the country is back to normal by Easter, 19 days away. Although that's a figment of his ego, when this all started I was admittedly hopeful for Easter as well. Realistically, we're probably 40 days away from life just starting to return to normal.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, we're still doing well. The teenagers may not like this so much, but they have plenty to do in the house or immediately outside (away from others, of course). My work environment may feel limited, but I see the opportunities to stay engaged for when I'm not working. And with 60-degree temps forecast for all next week, there's more reason for hope. At the risk of sounding cliche, we just got to take it one day at a time.
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