I know there is so much happening right now. It's too much, isn't it? Trying to remember the routine for each individual act of the day. Tying our shoes is different now that COVID-19 is always right around the corner--let alone trying to get dressed (don't forget your mask and hand sanitizer), meal prepping things that can be eaten quickly, quietly, seemingly away from infectious spaces, and avoiding human contact at all costs when "grabbing" the necessities from the grocery store, the pharmacy, and the businesses we try to support so they may stay open after this plague has been eradicated.
It is different now to come home, to not immediately run to your children, your spouse, but rather duck into the designated shower, scrub and scrape all of the too-raw skin that has been taking the same beating for months now and you try to wash any vestige of virus off before changing into the clothes you brought in this morning ahead of time when it was all dark outside and the world tried to sleep.
The damn red line on your nose and those scratches on the sides of your face have scabbed and re-scabbed. Will there always be a permanent reminder from this period of time etched onto the bridge of your nose even twenty years from now? You suppose it's worth it if you are still here twenty years from now because of that mask that settles into those grooves, both protecting you and harming you every day.
When you go out to hug your loved ones after your 12th shower this week, you turn your head hoping even this small act might stop invading droplets from infiltrating this sacred space we call home. Masks and face shields stand at the ready by the door as the grocery delivery soldier drops off this week's food. Now that most have stopped "panic-buying" almost no groceries are unaccounted for, but it is a whole new routine to bring everything in, alternate scrubbing your hands and wiping down groceries as they are placed in the proper spaces in your kitchen. How do you decontaminate a lemon anyway?
The news is all the same, and always different. People are still getting sick, the same news. The number of people who are sick, climbing steadily higher. A black man, the name never mentioned, has been killed, the same. Peaceful protestors try new tactics to get someone, anyone to listen, an inflamed and changing landscape. The USA continues to fight the coronavirus, same old same old. The world watches on in terror as we hurtle toward, through, and slingshot around, numbers that say "we have failed." Schools are open, closed, open again, same, same, same damn it. No one listens to the CDC's updated suggestions for staying in physical school and not straying to remote learning. With one click, the tv is turned off, but the computer continues to spew out the same information. Slam that shut too and listen to the blades of the fan in a quiet room, the dishwasher continuing to clean plates and cups and dishes the correct way. In the silence, the chaos of all the background noise of the day is shoved to the forefront of your mind. Everything you have worked through just to get home to rest, only to realize how unrested you are.
Did you wipe off the door handles in the house after you came in? Did you tell your kids goodnight or just nod as they walked past? Did you clean your keys and phone with the lysol wipes? Did the dog get fed? When was the last time all high-touch surfaces in the house were disinfected? Did you remember to get the mail on your way in? Is there any federal relief coming? When are those bills due? Did you just hear a cough from one of the bedrooms? Wait who has gotten their flu shot...
How many hours until you need to get up and start over?
It is too much. It is all too much. What you are being asked to do daily is just completely overwhelming. We are only human. While you force yourself to continue your vigilance in daily practices to ward off catching and spreading this virus because of the people you love, you also face dehumanization of the human issues that come along with such rigid and regimented procedures.
"COVID fatigue."
The decision exhaustion that comes after a long day of checking and double-checking that all your protocols are in place. The sad emptiness of going months not seeing or embracing the people you love. The anger that boils right under the surface screaming "This is not my fault!"
These measures, these procedures...they all have the same intent of keeping people safe and healthy until we have a better solution. Are they necessary? Yes. Are they doable? Yes.
Are they humane?
The outcome is humane. The process challenges the very basic tenants on which we stake the virtue of humanity. But...it is our only way forward in this moment, in this chapter of the history book. We are writing the lines that generations will read of the chapter on this global pandemic. The names and places and events that pile up in our minds until there are too many and all crash to the ground in a heap will be laid out in neat typed lines for children to read. The headings will help make sense of this senseless time with headings like "The Election of 2020" or "The Response of the People."
So as you climb gingerly into bed tonight and thoughts race around your mind like a sadistic game of ring-around-the-rosy, be mindful as you switch off the light. You are one of many authors in this moment. Your choices, your sacrifices, your decisions all matter. You matter. And long after a friend's grandchild asks you about that line on your nose, remember that although you are only human, because you are only human, you chose the path you walk with the goodness of your human spirit. In a time when humankind has been asked to lay basic human needs aside to protect human life, you fought for a better tomorrow so that humanity may be humane once more.
Keep fighting, my fellow humans. Dawn is coming.
Prepare, don't panic,
-Allison
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