My experience getting the COVID-19 vaccine

*This post is not intended to offer any medical advice to any individual. Please follow the recommendations of your personal health professionals – always – but I did want to offer up my experience because I have been fortunate enough to be able to get this vaccine fairly early on and thought sharing might be beneficial to someone.

“You can’t just get any vaccine! You need to talk to your step-dad. His son’s a nurse and has told him all about how the…” we were 20 minutes into a phone conversation and my mom was vehemently resisting the idea of me getting “just any” vaccination while we spoke on the phone. She trailed off for a couple of seconds, so I tried to head it off while she was paused and responded with, “I will get any approved vaccine that is offered to me. We need to get vaccinated so that life can return to something resembling normal. I am tired of this and I want to be able to go about life – I want to see you, and others too. Besides, we know that people won’t likely have an option as to which version they are able to get.”

It was of no use though as she continued on, calling for my step-father in the background to come and fill me in on this “information” she had received that was going to help me realize that getting “any” vaccine was a bad idea. “The Pfizer and Moderna ones are going to mess up your DNA! You can’t get them! You need to wait for the Johnson & Johnson vaccine,” she continued with her thought that had trailed off seconds prior.

At this point, as the conversation had been going on for quite awhile (and it wasn’t the first time this subject had been discussed), I could feel my patience hitting its limit. “Listen, I don’t know where you are getting your information, but it isn’t –” my volume was increasing, but I was interrupted by my step-dad’s voice as he began to “fill me in” on what my mother had been trying to explain earlier. I stood listening, phone to ear, mentally rolling my eyes, but trying to have the patience to allow him to finish. He managed to make it through without interruption, and finished by stating that they (he and my mother) would get the vaccine, but they are waiting for the J&J one that should be coming out soon.

With my mother back on the phone, she implored me, “I am your mother, and I want what is best for you, and I am telling you, you can’t get those two because -” I cut her off. I just couldn’t take any more of it, and at this point I was very nearly yelling. “Again, I will get any vaccine that is available to me. None of them are going to mess up my DN –” I was cut off with, “YES, they will. You CANNOT get them,” my mother insisted.

Our conversation went on a bit longer before ultimately ending in my mother hanging up on me. Perhaps it seems a bit unnecessary to go through this conversation, but I doubt I am the only person who has had this sort of back-and-forth with a family member, neighbor or friend. It’s a very frustrating situation and honestly, my family are the last people I want to fight with. My annoyance was stemming ultimately from the fact that they refuse to use common sense, listen to scientists and doctors, or to even perform a simple search online which would have yielded answers very quickly to what they believe to be truth, but which is in fact, not at all the case.

Interestingly enough, a few days after this conversation, I was offered the opportunity to sign up to get the COVID-19 vaccine shots. I was ecstatic because I thought it would be months before I would be able to sign up. Teachers are included in the next phase of Colorado vaccinations, so I was able to sign up via the school district through which I am employed. I was told that anyone who wanted to sign up, who was eligible to do so, would have the opportunity for a limited number of days. After the sign-up portion, a lottery/randomized system of selection would be used to decide who would go first.

As it happened, my name was drawn very quickly. The available dates/times were limited and I didn’t have much of a selection as far as where the vaccine could be administered. The closest location was about 30 miles from home and the available date for the first dose was coinciding with a previously scheduled appointment for one of our dogs (who was having a tooth extracted, and also couldn’t be rescheduled at this point as the vet is overloaded and booked several weeks out). Sam reminded me that this is important and that we’d figure out all the details later, but to get the appointment set. At the same time, I had to schedule the date for the second dose and was informed that it was important to choose dates/times that would not require rescheduling as they are doing their very best to get as many vaccinated as possible in the shortest amount of time.

The available date for the first round would be February 15, but it seemed like it would be okay because the pups’ drop off time was at 7:30a, and I wouldn’t need to be to my appointment until 9:10a. It seemed feasible that both could happen on the same morning, and so I signed myself up for both round one and the second dose, which would take place three weeks after.

A few days after, I met up with a friend outdoors to walk our dogs. We’ve done this occasionally since the start of the pandemic, so as to not feel completely isolated and to allow our dogs to see each other (because they love each other and get very excited to do anything together). I am comfortable meeting up with her because 1) we both wear masks and maintain distance while we’re together, even though we’re outside, and 2) I know that she and her boyfriend are not having unnecessary contact with other individuals and they share the same philosophy about being around others during this time.

While we chatted, I mentioned that I would be getting the first round of the vaccine a couple of days later and also talked about some of my frustration with the conversation I’d had with my mother. I realized that it’s amazing how false information can seep into my brain and cause anxiety. I had been feeling some anxiousness about getting the vaccine because, even though I know they have been through trials and at this point several people have had the vaccine, I couldn’t help but wonder about the possibility of something going wrong. After all, I have a lot of allergies (to foods, environmental, and to some medications). What if something happened? What if the anti-vaccine people were right?

It didn’t help matters that the day before the appointment I received my electronic notice to check in online so that everything would be taken care of before my arrival the following day. The consent form was a little unnerving as I read through it, and I did actually read it in its entirety. The ingredient list alone might as well have been in another language because I understood very little of it. Then, the risks of obtaining the vaccine were listed, including the more severe possibilities of a reaction. It also detailed out what an EUA (Emergency Use Authorization) is and what it means in relation to this particular vaccine. Particularly after all this reading, I could definitely understand why there are so many who are hesitant to get the shots. I understand that this information is to educate individuals, but can also see how it could create situations in which people then don’t want to receive the vaccine.

The night before the appointment, I didn’t sleep much. There was a lot running through my head between the dog’s appointment (I never like to see them go under anesthesia and I was worried about her) and my own scheduled first-round of the vaccine. Despite the logic that was present, that little bit of the unknown was floating through my mind and it was hard to allow the 95% of the science/logic/reality side to win out over the 5% that held on to doubt, fear and uneasiness. As I filtered through thoughts in bed, I told Sam, “If anything happens to me, make sure to pick up our girl in the afternoon, okay?” He laughed and reassured me that I would be just fine, but that, yes, he would pick her up if anything happened. “You will both be just fine,” he said again before he drifted to sleep.

In the morning, I dropped the dog off and told her that I’d see her in the afternoon, as I headed to my own appointment. It was a very cold morning at -8F/-22C and the roads were likely going to be icy as we’d had snow the day prior. Still, I arrived to my appointment about 45 minutes ahead of schedule. As I nervously waited to go inside (I had been told not to arrive more than 10 minutes prior to my scheduled appointment), I tried to distract myself.

At 10 minutes before my appointment, I headed inside. At the entrance, I was screened with a temperature check and asked if I had been exposed to anyone who was known to have COVID and was then guided to follow the signs posted. I followed the maze, went down an elevator, and exited to a moving line of people who directed me to the back of the group. The line seemed to go on for an eternity as I twisted around corner after corner, eventually reaching the end. “Why did they bother making appointments?” I muttered half-aloud to no one in particular. I wasn’t upset about the wait/line (I know they’re trying to get the shots to as many people as possible), but having an appointment time with hundreds of others made it seem rather silly to go through the bother of making a scheduled time to arrive. But, people were kind and everyone waited at least 6 feet behind each other and the line moved fairly swiftly. In total, it was about a 30 minute wait, which didn’t seem too terrible.

When I arrived at the room full of tables for my turn, the nurse was very polite and even happy. I asked if people had been kind to her and she said things were going well. She asked if I had a preference of the arm being used, and since my right side was closest to her, I told her we might as well go with that one. She asked if I had any allergies, at which point I proceeded to run down a list of items, which didn’t seem to concern her. I was also asked if this was my first or second shot so that she would know whether to give me a vaccination card or to fill out the one I’d been given. After cleaning the area for the injection, she then stuck the needle in.

“All done!” she exclaimed.

I was confused — “Is that it?” I asked. “Do I need to wait around or anything?”

She responded by saying that if I was concerned about a reaction, I was welcome to wait 15 minutes in one of the chairs in an area that had been set up, but otherwise, I was free to go. Not really wanting to hang out indoors with a bunch of people, I opted to head outside, but as soon as I got to the vehicle, I started having second thoughts. Maybe I should have waited to make sure? I sent Sam a text…

It is done. Should I wait before I leave, or just head home? They don’t seem to require me to wait, but I’d hate to have something happen on the way home.

Sam said to wait if I wanted, but I would probably be fine to head back, and, not wanting to really sit there with my anxious ruminations, I headed home. As I started back, my thoughts got the better of me. I seemed to be having some tightness in my chest and I had a mild headache and felt tired. Of course, these things could be explained in other ways. I hadn’t really slept the night prior, it was a really cold day and I have asthma/allergies, which often causes tightness in my chest. I also hadn’t had any food yet for the day and it was after 10:45a, so that could very well be inflicting the mild headache. None of these things were intolerable, but just enough that I noticed. Still those little seeds that had been planted hung on for a few hours before I was finally able to relax.

I went about my day as planned – the grocery store, working out, walking the dog (the one not having a tooth removed), riding a bike (though on a trainer, as you will recall that it was a very cold day), working a bit, and eventually picking up the other pup in the late afternoon (who came through her surgery very well, in case you are curious).

By late afternoon, I could feel that my arm was not happy. I would say it was a moderate level of ache in the shoulder area down to just above my elbow — something I hadn’t really anticipated – akin to having someone punch me really hard in the arm/muscle. When I’ve had shots in the past, I’ve never experienced this, but Sam has mentioned it over the years when he gets his flu shot, so this may not be as unusual as it seemed to me.

That was the worst of it though. The second day, my arm was still sore, but I could pick it up easily (unlike the day prior). I was tired in the afternoon for a few days after the shot, but whether that is because of the vaccine or for other reasons, it’s difficult to say. I’ve also noticed that my mouth has been very dry. I’ve attempted to drink more than my usual amount of water (and I normally drink a fair amount of water), but that hasn’t seemed to do much, so I’m curious to see how long that lasts. Overall, nothing has been unbearable or even difficult to tolerate, and frankly, I’m not convinced most of the happenings are even from the vaccine.

I have two weeks until the second round shot, but I believe everything will go as expected at that visit as well. I feel less anxiety about the second round, having now gone through it once, so I think that’s beneficial. My mother- and father-in-law have both just finished up their second round shots and have experienced no ill-effects. I’m glad that they were able to get them done as they are both over 70 and have health issues that could cause significant problems if they were to get infected with COVID-19.

Hopefully, Sam will be able to get the vaccine in the relatively near future. He believes this won’t happen for him until summer, but I hold out hope that anyone who wants the vaccine will be able to get it much sooner so that life can begin to resume some sense of “normal,” whatever that may be.

In the meantime, we continue to mask anywhere we go, keep our distance when we cannot avoid other people, and look forward to getting back to some of the more normal activities of spring and summer in the coming months. Hopefully, this year will be much better than last for all of us.

We cannot eliminate (at least for now) this virus from our communities, but we can protect ourselves and our loved ones by getting the vaccine when it is available to us as individuals. My point in sharing all of this is not to say that I am special or that I am the rarity. Instead, my hope is that others who are fearful of the vaccine will take this opportunity to seek out or read about others, every day people, who have had the vaccine and come out the other side without issue. I also know that I cannot reach everyone, and in particular, I cannot reach the populations who likely need to read these experiences the most; but I hope that as I share this, others who have had the opportunity to get the vaccine will share their experience as well so that we are able to develop herd immunity – and that those who have family members or friends who are hesitant or resistant to getting the vaccine will share these experiences and know that we are benefiting ourselves and those we love.

Adapting Routine

Sam and I had a video phone call with a friend a couple of weeks ago because she wanted us to “meet” the person she’s been dating for the last few months. We had been tentatively making plans to meet up for a dinner and then the pandemic put us on lock down, so we figured it was the closest we’d get to a meeting for at least the foreseeable future. Toward the end of the call our friend asked what I was most looking forward to about life returning to normal and my instant response was “Being able to go back to the gym,” but then I said, “Really, my life isn’t that much different than it was before. So, I guess I’m one of the lucky ones.”

After we ended the call, I started to think a bit more about this though. I am fortunate in some sense that my main job is one that allows me to work from home, but my relatively newly acquired position as a substitute teacher has definitely fallen to the wayside since it’s not needed, and my primary job as an artist has no real function because without the ability to have fairs, tours and other places to show, it feels nearly pointless to make new things. On the other hand, it is an outlet and something to busy my mind, but I find it difficult to really get much done when there isn’t some sort of deadline looming on the horizon. In true-to-many-artist form, keeping discipline when the timeline is fluid (or non-existent) becomes very challenging.

Having a couple of weeks to think about it now, I have developed a routine, but that schedule looks different than it did before — at least in some sense. Without consciously trying to, I have adopted the habit of running (or walking) the dogs early-early for about an hour and a half, then coming home and going for a ride that spans 2-4 hours, coming back to eat, and then using our makeshift gym in the garage to get in a workout. By that time, it’s time to start on dinner. Somehow I seem to have made “working out” my job over the last several weeks, which doesn’t seem like such a bad thing on the surface, but I can feel my body rebelling the longer this goes on.

While the dogs get walked/run every day even pre-pandemic, I generally choose either a gym work out or a ride on any given day during the week, and my rides are generally kept to around an hour (or a little longer, depending on how much time I can spare). On the one hand, I’m grateful for all the time during the day to be active, but on the other, my hips, knees, back, neck and even wrists are feeling the increase in use and they are making it known that they are displeased. It’s not so much the good aching that comes from stretching comfort levels a bit, but rather teetering on injury from overuse. By the time the weekend hits (when we generally do a big chunk of our riding), I am already beat up but find myself soldiering through, believing that it’s somehow making me stronger. Who knows? Maybe it is.

In the meantime, weeds are overgrowing in the garden and all of the projects around the house that others seem to be accomplishing have gone completely ignored as I feel the compulsion to stick with this newly acquired routine. I suppose there are worse things I could be doing, but as tends to be an ongoing issue for me, I know there needs to be balance. I suppose I am realizing how much I enjoy being active though and how much it is a part of life. I am thankful that we are still able to venture outside (particularly as I know many parts of the country and world cannot so easily do so), even if it means wearing face coverings.

Today is supposed to be a windier-than-usual day, so I expect that means I should get to those weeds instead of venturing out for a ride. While my allergies won’t be happy, it should please the neighbors to be rid of the eyesore that is currently our front yard. Perhaps it will help me feel as though I’m contributing something of some sort of value too, and maybe that’s just what I need right now… even if the bike is calling to me.

A day in life...

My eyes open and there’s a knot in my throat. It’s the same knot that was there the night prior and continues to feel as though it’s choking me to death. My chest feels tight. I immediately wonder if I’m infected and just don’t know it. I clear my throat, cough once or maybe it was twice, hyper aware that coughing is a no-no right now. Even with no one around, I catch myself and try to contain it. I cough a lot on a regular basis. Having exercise-induced asthma as well as a variety of allergies, pretty much any time of year I can be found sniffing, wiping drips from my nose and/or coughing. It’s challenging to not cough at any point in the day.

I dread getting up because I can hear the news on the television at the far side of the house, even though the volume is low. Sam has been awake for hours, already having run who knows how many miles in the dark and is now absorbing every ounce of information as though there’s something earth-shattering that’s changed over night. I don’t want to hear anymore about this thing, this virus that has taken over every aspect of life. It’s giving me anxiety, it’s adding to my already questionable state. I stop my mental conversation immediately and try to spin things in a different direction. Really, life isn’t that different for me today than any other day. Others have it far worse. Sure, I can’t go to the gym, but beyond that, I spend a good portion of my days in solitary activity anyway, so things will be okay. I can still go outside, walk the dogs, move my legs and get about my day.

I feel the tickle in my throat again. Dammit. I’m going to cough.

I turn on my phone, listening to the familiar start up buzzes and bells. I’ve made it a habit for many years to turn off my phone at night. I still have an old school alarm clock that wakes me just fine and I don’t like the noises or light from the phone disrupting my easily-disturbed sleep. I put my smart watch across my wrist and turn it on. It has its own familiar buzz. Soon, the phone and watch have reconnected and both are telling me all that I “need” to start my day. I have an appointment, the virus is still spreading, numbers increasing, the government is still trying to pass legisla… I stop reading. I can’t. It’s overwhelming me and it’s not even 6am.

I stumble out into the kitchen to feed the dogs. They both come scampering at the sound of their dishes clanking together, the older, blind dog runs into the kitchen table before making it to the spot where I’m standing. I give the older dog her thyroid medication in a small piece of turkey. The younger pouts at me, so I give her a piece of turkey too. “We have to watch your weight,” I tell her, as though she understands. “You’ve put on more than 5 pounds in the past couple of months. Mom needs to stop giving you so many snacks.” I place their now-filled dog bowls on the floor, each in their preferred spot to eat.

Entering the laundry room, I see the pile of clothing that seems to be a permanent fixture. I grab a pair of winter tights and a wool baselayer and put them both on. Where the hell are my socks, I wonder. I scrounge through the pile and find what I need. The dogs have finished eating and are waiting outside the laundry room. Even without seeing them, I know they’re there.

I clear my throat, twice. I refuse to cough.

“You taking the dogs?” Sam asks, barely prying his focus from the news.

“Yes, in a minute. Have a good day, okay? Don’t touch anything, or anyone… stay away from… well, everyone,” I reply as he comes closer for a hug before he heads in to work.

They’ve been alternating days in the office to help minimize exposure. His employer could allow many of the staff to work from home exclusively but has elected instead to have every department switch staff in the office each day and work from home on the alternate days. I’m frustrated that he has to go in, but I haven’t been working since the schools shut down, so we know he has to do what is required.

I throw my jacket on and open the front door. Brisk, cold air hits my face and I feel the cough coming. “Here we go,” I say to the older of our dogs. “Step.”

Since she’s lost her vision, I try to tell her when there are steps or bumps in the path so she doesn’t trip or fall. She has the front door down pretty well, but it’s become such a habit that I continue to tell her to step, even though she doesn’t need the verbal cue in this case. We are off on our usual route.

The girls get walked separately because there’s about an 8 year gap between them in age, they walk horribly together – fighting to be in front of the other, and because guiding a blind dog takes a bit of focus to make sure she doesn’t fall.

It’s still dark outside, but I figure the dog is blind so she isn’t missing out on anything and it’s always a bit more peaceful before everyone gets going.

The tickle in my throat is there again and I know I’m going to cough. I try to suppress it, but I can’t. Three consecutive coughs and then I have to clear my throat. I’m so sick of coughing – even before all of this started.

The dog stops to sniff an area of the neighbors lawn.

I wonder how long it will take for life to go back to something normal.

I wonder how long Sam will have his job before they shut down, like so many others.

We continue on our all-too-familiar path, passing the same houses and winding through a neighborhood park. I hear a couple of the ducks in the small pond starting to quack at our approach and one of the geese honking a warning to the others. They’re never as alarmed with this dog as they are the other. Maybe they sense that she can’t see and aren’t threatened by her? Maybe it’s simply that it’s still dark outside. We reach a small incline and I feel the dog slow her pace. She just doesn’t take the hills as quickly as she used to. She stops, sniffing a particular spot for a few minutes. I cough.

We meander our way back home at an old-dog’s pace and I switch out the dogs. Some days, I run with this one, but today is not one of those days. My back has been killing me and my knees have been quite uncooperative the last few days, so we walk – a different, faster-pace, and a longer path than the first dog – but something to mix things up.

The sun is starting to bring a bit of light and I think to myself that it will be great when there’s sunlight earlier.

My mind can wander more on this walk because I don’t have to focus on keeping the blind dog on the sidewalk — both a blessing and a curse. I wonder if I’m a carrier of the virus, who’s not showing signs. I wonder when the schools will reopen and I can go back to my job. I actually miss the kids – even though I have no regular classroom. I think about the work I do have and wonder if there will be any art events this spring/summer — will I even have an opportunity to show or sell my work this year? I keep making things, believing that this won’t last too long, but maybe this will change things for longer than I think. So many people out of work – who can afford to spend money on art right now? I run through a mental list of things I’d like to make — at least I have the time to focus on it right now. I hope I don’t run out of supplies because I doubt I will be able to get what I need. I should probably pick up…

I have a coughing fit in the middle of my thought. I work to calm it by trying to clear my throat, but it just makes the coughing worse. A woman running on the other side of the street stares at me as though I have the plague. I want to explain that this is typical for me, but I know it doesn’t matter in the current environment.

We approach an intersection and I consciously use my elbow to hit the cross button rather than my gloved finger. I wonder how long the virus can live on clothing.

Four miles later we arrive back home and I know I have to visit the grocery store.

I sigh.

I cough.

More anxiety.

Not knowing what the grocery store will have in stock makes a list useless. I’ve decided it’s better to go and adapt as needed for the given day’s circumstances. I arrive at about 8:15am to a packed parking lot in front of the store.

The vegetables are pretty well picked over. I grab the solitary zucchini squash and two quite pitted-looking bell peppers, the lone bag of potatoes and a small package of spinach. I’m grateful that there are some sort of vegetables to pick up and I haven’t seen potatoes for awhile. They aren’t normally something I buy, but right now, I take what I can find. I miraculously pick up 4, 2-packs of chicken, a package of cheddar cheese, some oil for cooking and a few other random items.

On the baking aisle I encounter an older woman, likely in her 80s, donning rubber gloves and a medical mask who asks if I ever make bread.

“Occasionally,” I respond.

“Do you know if this is where yeast is in the store?” she asks.

“It’s around here somewhere,” I say, “if it hasn’t sold out.” I search the shelves, looking for the yeast and finally spot it on an upper shelf. “It’s over here,” I tell her, as I stand on my tip-toes to reach one of the packets. Then, thinking better of it I say, “Do you want to get it yourself so I don’t touch it?”

In mid-sentence, another woman approaches from the other end of the aisle, grabs the remaining packages of yeast and takes off. I just shake my head. “Do you want this one in my hand?” I ask the older woman. She is grateful to have it and thanks me for getting it for her.

The line to check out is wrapped half way around the interior of the store, so I head to the back of the line and wait my turn. A man and his wife cut through the crowd and park their cart in front of me in line. I silently shake my head, but let it go. A few moments later he asks if he cut in front of me, to which I respond that he had, but not to worry as the line is so long anyway that it doesn’t matter. We chat at an appropriate distance about the craziness that is life right now.

The woman behind me is so close I can literally feel her breath on my neck. I think about saying something to her and then decide not to. Tensions are already high and I don’t need to get into a fight with someone at the grocery store. Now would be a great time for a cough, but somehow I don’t seem to be able to muster one. Figures.

After what feels like an eternity, I make it to the checkout area. As the cashier scans my items, I notice that something changes on his face. He stutters as he begins to speak, “Ma’am, I-I’m sorry, but I can only sell you three of the four packages of chicken you have here.”

I can see the discomfort on his face at having to deliver this news. I respond, “No worries. I completely understand. It’s just normally what I’d buy and I didn’t even think about not being able to buy four packages right now.”

There’s a look of relief that spreads across his countenance. “You could’ve picked up a couple of beef or pork, but we just can’t sell 4 packages of any single meat in one purchase.”

I reassure him that we will be fine without the fourth package and that I will know for future visits during all of this madness. The bagger takes the chicken back and I finish loading up the groceries. Maneuvering out of the store is a challenge in itself. Some people are extremely aware of distance, others are not.

Being in the outside air feels good. I know it’s just a part of the current situation, but it is as though the interior air has germs and sickness in it. Outside, the wind blows and it feels invigorating. I feel myself for a brief moment, and then clear my throat to avoid a coughing fit as I return swiftly back to current reality.

It’s 9:45am.

At home, I put the groceries away and decide to ride the bike on the trainer because I can’t go to the gym. Trainer riding is nothing like outside riding. Trainer riding is a workout; outside riding, even if it is a workout, doesn’t feel like it’s a workout. But, I want to get some actual work done today, so I give myself no more than an hour to spend on the trainer.

The trainer bike is filthy. It’s been on the trainer for over two years now and it was dirty when it was first set up. I know I need to take it off and clean it, but decide that it is a task for another time. I hop on the bike and bump up the pace as quickly as possible. The chain makes dirty, dry-chain noise, as it revolves around the crank. I know I’m wearing it out faster by not cleaning and lubing it. I do two-minute intervals, alternating between this-feels-like-I’m-going-to-die speed and I’m-definitely-going-to-die speed. I miss the gym. I think about how ludicrous it is to be pushing so hard on something that isn’t moving anywhere and that has no actual purpose. My knee twinges with pain. I push harder.

The windows are fogging quickly and I’m sweating profusely after only 20 minutes. I push as hard as I possibly can, but I don’t really know why. There’s no race to win. I’d get just as good of a workout at a slightly-less-intense pace, but still I push. I start coughing uncontrollably and have to slow down a bit so I can breathe somewhat normally again. Then, back to pushing.

I start to cry. I don’t really know why and I know I can’t afford to sob because I won’t be able to breathe at all.

I’m angry at the rotten, evil world.

I’m grateful that there are good people in the world – so many trying to make a difference.

I hate that no matter what I do, my body doesn’t change.

I’m thankful that my body is willing and able to endure whatever I throw at it.

I need to call my mom… but, oh, she makes me crazy.

I don’t want anyone to die during this mess.

I know people are dying, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I don’t want to die or make anyone else sick.

At 45 minutes, I call it. I don’t have an hour of this in me today. I change without showering and get to work. I’m using so much water washing my hands these days, I suppose missing one shower will make up for some of it.

I check my email from my phone. Sam’s sent various messages about the pandemic, numbers, and so on. I know he wants me to stay informed, but I don’t want to read it anymore. My chest tightens. I can’t take the anxiety.

The local radio is streaming via the Google device in my studio. More numbers, more information. I can’t seem to escape it even when songs should be playing. The county is shutting down, shelter in place, stay at home, wash your hands, don’t touch your face, stay away from everyone, toilet paper jokes.

Just play some Michael Jackson and let me work in peace, I think.

The dogs are with me in the studio — one on the dog bed, the other stretched out on the cold floor, one snoring, but both sleeping soundly. I am unfocused.

I have to make something. Anything.

A friend sends a message, asking if I’d like to walk the dogs together. I initially respond with a yes, but then rethink it. No reason for either of us to expose ourselves needlessly. Even with appropriate social distancing… it’s just a challenge. We’ll do it another time, another day, somewhere in the unforeseen future. This isn’t forever, right? Aren’t we already a couple of months in? Oh. No, maybe a week… or is it two now? When did this start? It will end though — someday.

At around 4pm, Sam comes in through the back door. I’ve managed to make something, though not what I’d hoped. I’m regaled with all of the stats of the day that he’s read about all day long. I half listen, half wander off into other thoughts. An evening meal for the dogs. An evening meal for the humans. Twitter. Instagram. Occasional email. Plans for tomorrow. Sam works from home tomorrow, at least for now. Rumor has it that they’ll shut down by end of week until further notice. Panic. Anxiety. Coughing. A 1990s Will and Grace episode.

A poem running through my head… parts of it anyway. T.S. Eliot’s, The Hollow Men. I can’t seem to remember the beginning and parts are fading in and out.

Something about being the hollow men… Something about being devoid of shape and form, but I just can’t remember. I need to do more reading of this sort and less obsessing about current details.

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams

In death’s dream kingdom

These do not appear:

There, the eyes are

Sunlight on a broken column

There, is a tree swinging

And voices are

In the wind’s singing

More distant and more solemn

Than a fading star

… I’m losing it and can’t remember how it goes.

This is the dead land

This is cactus land

Here the stone images

Are raised, here they receive

The supplication of a dead man’s hand

Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this

In death’s other kingdom

Waking alone

At the hour when we are

Trembling with tenderness

…More missing pieces of this… they never stick with me.

The eyes are not here

There are no eyes here

In this valley of dying stars

In this hollow valley

This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places 

We grope together

And avoid speech

Gathered on this beach of this tumid river

…. I know there’s more, but all I can remember is that –

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but with a whimper.

I head to bed, knowing that there’s nothing else I can do today. I cough a few times and Sam feels my forehead.

“You don’t feel like you have a temperature,” he says.

“For the love of Pete,” I seem to almost yell, “I’m not sick! This is just my usual coughing.”

“I know,” he says with a sly smile, “I just have to check, to make sure.”

Maybe tomorrow will be more important-activity-focused and less virus-focused. Maybe I’ll accomplish something that matters. Or maybe I’ll ride my bike outside and let it all go for a brief amount of time. We always new riding a bike is freedom, but it really is right now.

My mind wanders into the possibility of actually being sick and my chest tightens. I start to drift to sleep.

Cough.

Social Distancing

It feels like there’s been some quietness on my end virtually everywhere online. It seems like my very own form of online social distancing of sorts, but I simply haven’t been doing much Instagram-ing nor Twittering or even writing much for various reasons. Sometimes I need a break from the world and while I do try to occasionally view above-referenced social media outlets, I haven’t had a ton of time to spend interacting or even gleaning what others are putting out into the world, other than the constant coronavirus/COVID-19 information, which seems to have most of us under a spell right at the moment.

Cute doggy photos make everyone feel better and more relaxed, right? These girls are happy to still be getting in their walks/runs every day.

At the end of last year, I decided to give up my secondary job as a school crossing guard for a different job within the school system. I have always thought that I may want to teach (and actually have in various venues over the years – though never in schools), but it’s never really been the right time in life to give it a try. A few years ago I looked into going into an intensive master’s training program in education, but decided that in my advancing years (though for the record I do not consider myself old), I wasn’t sure if I wanted to invest the time/money in something I wasn’t entirely certain I would 1) be good at, and 2) enjoy for the long term. Then, an opportunity came up in which I would be able to substitute teach for the local school district without needing to invest in additional education. It seemed like a good time to test out my interest in this area and still give me time to work in my primary job. It is the beauty of a part-time gig, and particularly this part-time job — being able to flex the schedule to work around other needs.

The last day of physically being in classrooms locally was last Thursday, and I happened to be subbing in a class that day as the announcements were made for students to prepare for the possibility that classes could be cancelled. At the time, most of us thought it was just an over-abundance of caution and that school would most likely continue, but within hours it was obvious that local spreading was happening faster and the powers that be made the decision to shut down all school districts in the metro area to hopefully help contain those being infected.

I was happy to learn that arrangements were being made to still get students their meals because many families depend on the kids getting breakfast/lunch while at school. I also couldn’t help but have concern for those who could potentially be affected by this if closure goes on for any length of time. At present, school closures are scheduled only through the end of spring break (which would bring students back at the end of March); however, I don’t realistically see that happening. Although plans are being made to instruct students online for the duration of the semester (if it becomes necessary), there will be employees affected by this — for example, substitute teachers, classroom aides, custodial staff, and so on. Perhaps the district will make the decision to continue to pay those on a regular work schedule, such as the custodial staff and other school aides, but I know as a substitute I have no guaranteed hours or contract, so if I have no work I do not get paid.

For me, it’s not end of the world (assuming of course that my partner is able to continue working). While I do somewhat depend on the income, there are others who will experience a much greater hit with this loss and I can’t help but feel for them. With the possibility that physical school may not resume until the fall, it’s something that is going to have an impact.

There are so many industries right now that could be devastated by this shut down, and more importantly, the individuals working in those fields. Restaurants, bars, gyms, mass transit, and many retailers are not going to be able to withstand long-term closings. Finding ways to support these places can be difficult if we aren’t sure our own income will continue, and while also trying to keep ourselves and others from spreading the virus.

Over the weekend, we decided to get out and ride our bicycles, or in our case, our bicycle since we were traveling on the tandem. Exercise of any sort is always a great way for me to relieve tension and riding a bike is definitely my favorite. It was wonderful to see that others had not completely holed up at home and that many were out walking, running, hiking and riding bikes. We would wave from a distance and smile, knowing that we’re all going through this together. I think it’s easy to get caught up in the idea that we need to isolate and then turn that into not leaving home, but as long as we’re still keeping distance between ourselves and others and continuing to follow recommended hygiene protocols, there’s no reason not to get out and enjoy the sunshine (or, as was the case when we rode, the cloudy cold).

Although this outbreak seems to have a large level of uncertainty accompanying it, I hope that we are all finding ways to stay active and find good stress relievers as we navigate through this time. I hope that most will not have to deal with loss of income and that we will come together to help when/where we are each able.

Wherever you are as you read this, please stay safe and healthy, and hopefully, you are able to enjoy some time riding your bike.