Today has been a rollercoaster of data, emotions, and decisions in our household. The storm is here, thrashing against our Midwestern windows, an ominous boom of thunder off to the Northeast. But that is just the virus--it's 98 degrees and very, very sunny. Later I plan to write about the governor's follow-up speech today where he said...well, he mostly reiterated what he said yesterday. 19 of our 88 counties are in a "Code Red" situation (being a level 3 health emergency on a scale of 1-4, 4 being the highest). So many colors and numbers and explanations that require explanations. It's a lot of information and emotions to take in. I have reams of notes next to me-of the lives lost, the number of ventilators still available in our state...dreary, frightening information. Today, I felt let down by my governor who encouraged all of us to "continue being our best selves. Ohioans are good people."
That is a lovely sentiment. I know I frequently choose to sign off with a "people are good, people," and I mean it. I also feel that a level 3 health emergency demands a plan of action, published ideas of best practices, and help navigating the consequences for those who do not share in the belief that all people inherently will do everything they can to protect the people in their state. I have friends and family making decisions that worry me for their safety and the safety of others. It is a sad, uncomfortable, and lonely place to be. It also is hard, as I mentioned before, as a wife to a teacher who met virtually with his colleagues today to decide best practices for a physical re-opening this fall. I am still more than optimistic that collaboration and innovation are going to win the day, but during the governor's speech I believed there would be mandates set in motion to protect the citizens of the state as a whole. People in high-risk populations, like me, are now 128 days in still with no guidance.
The money for my position working from home as a contact tracer was reassigned more than a month ago to fight the "riots" stemming from the #BlackLivesMatter movement and each week we are asked to sit waiting for a call, without promise of compensation if we leave, and a definitive negative on compensation if we don't wait as directed. I have continued to search and scour for ways to work from home, make a difference, and still make money.
Searching has become a full-time, terrifying job.
Let's back up a second. Kids and teens are scared about what school will look like, how colleges might see their applications. Families below the poverty line and children who rely on school for food are starving. Kids don't understand if or why they are in trouble and why the play date was cancelled. We know that older folks living in "congregate settings" are often hotspots for infection and we fear for our older loved ones. People who had a steady paycheck are now going without, searching for ways to make ends meet while tying year-old laces together to keep the wrong size shoes on their feet.
We haven't had the tests or the man power to make them available "to all people" the way they have been advertised until very recently. Even then, we have let our collective generosity, kindness, and collaboration shape changes to help those affected. We have been patching the basic needs for the people we can see. We are trying to reframe and process trauma that is ongoing at a higher level. But many needs are still invisible as the triage tent isn't big enough to hold everyone. Because in one way or another, this virus has affected each and every one of us.
I have sat for every briefing with Gov. DeWine, tried to keep my eyes high on the prize that we are all better together, and that it is a responsibility to be informed. Unfortunately, it became clear as the governor started taking questions that mandates were not forthcoming on this day when he had promised decisive action. Our state has 60% of its population mandated to wear masks and limit travel to within Ohio, but we are not a unified state and I am still slipping through the cracks as a high-risk person, with medical stay at home orders.
There are no consequences for those that break these rules, for the man who taunted me, frightened me in my mask yesterday. I see now that my run was a one-off gift and I am working to feel gratitude for having had those moments in the sun when I am now a beaten, bruised Rapunzel. I have listened so carefully to Gov. DeWine's guidance, orders, and suggestions. Dr. Acton's words of wisdom and inspiration. I have acted as asked and called upon in a time that none of us "should" have been prepared for...but here we are and I am still trying. Still getting news, even when I do not agree. Listening to the warnings, though they have always pertained to me. And still feeling invisible to the people who are supposed to represent me. I had to take a break after the lackluster briefing today because after all the promises and plans that were in the works just days ago, the anxiety-inducing press release last night was the same information given today: keep doing what you are doing. After sitting for each meeting, today was the day I had to stand up from my couch and walk to the window as I heard our governor's deflections about what it means to be "in a purple zone" or whether he would be attending the RNC in Jacksonville as he threw Florida in our face as the Goofus to our less-than Gallant right now. I wonder if he knows that the Oklahoma governor is positive for COVID-19, right after hosting a rally for President Trump. I can only hope that the reason for all the pomp and circumstance with no enforcement is some tactical maneuver to trigger a "purple" area and make an example of what does happen when counties reach a tipping point. I don't feel that this can possibly be "right," but perhaps our governor truly wants to put it all in the hands of the people and then act as Ward Cleaver with a militia to back it up later. But at what cost?
In the picture below I was watching our neighbors having a barbeque with friends on their lawns and not one person wore a mask. Three boys pedaled by on their bikes, smiling, maskless, and helmet-less. I just felt helpless.
Even hours later as I feel I am able to compose some thoughts that might help connect us, I find myself angry for this moment when Alex took a candid photo of the moment our governor started taking questions and I realized no mandates were forthcoming. After listening to every briefing from my couch, taking notes, following orders and suggestions, I had to get up and walk away from what I was hearing. I was ashamed of how I felt-looking like I want to punch my way back into a reality I recognize. I felt weak when I saw this picture. And still...I am not giving up. Those of us who don't have the health we wish we did are going to keep fighting. And not just for us. How do I know? I have heard it echoing in texts this afternoon, a voicemail left by a friend, and from another Type 1 diabetic today who was my nurse at the hospital for follow up labs. I was allowed out of my house with my special hospital PPE for swabs, blood draws, and samples to make sure I am recovering. My nurse was my age. Her name was Ashlyn. We bonded over our shared disability, then the fact she is newly engaged. Her plans for a ceremony and honeymoon to nine different countries in two years or ten. With no family in town and her insurance running out, they are getting married at the courthouse soon. I joked that I would be happy to witness if she gave me the date and time at the courthouse. She teared up and gave me the date and time.
I don't have all the answers right now-and if anyone tells you they do, I would recommend checking their sources. But today I had a moment of intense heartbreak and also a moment of intense healing. We are a smart, kind species. I am not sure whether she will still want me as a witness to her marriage, but what I do know is that an immunocompromised nurse and her immunocompromised patient were both able to fight for each other today and that is proof, my friends, that people are good.
Prepare, don't panic,
-Allison
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