We as a nation watched as the coronavirus that causes COVID19 spread across the globe. At first, thoughts ran along the lines of, "That sucks for them" when it was located in one location on the other side of the planet. We were told this was an illness for the elderly to be concerned with, not the rest of us. Then it was the elderly and people with chronic health conditions. Then it was young people, too. Then there became the issue of asymptomatic carriers. And then the news story of the choir in Washington that chose to meet to sing, where 60 people sat spaced every other chair from each other, none feeling sick, and sang their hearts out, and within two weeks, 45 were sick, three were hospitalized, and two died.
We did well for March, April, and part of May. Then the governor ended his stay at home order, and things went to shit. Masks somehow became a political divide. Our parking lot at times gets dangerous- whatever drugs people are resorting to these days are giving them superhuman strength and rage. One co-worker's child ended up in the psych hospital, the other in jail, both for symptoms consistent with mental illness induced by the circumstances. Had the second child been white, he probably would have been sent to the psych ward instead of jail. That was just before the week of murders committed by police officers and George-Zimmerman copy cats - a father-son duo that hunted and killed a black teenager, a two rookie cops not knowing what to do when two more seasoned cops insisted on excessive force on a man who said he couldn't breathe, until he died. Over a $20 freaking bill. A woman, a healthcare worker, shot in her own bed during a drug bust - except they got the wrong house. The list went on. Our president hid in a bunker one night, then after that was leaked to the media, deployed the military, ordered dispersal by force upon peaceful protesters, so that he could walk, escorted by generals, to a church in a fantastic show of power, then pose with his gorgeous model wife and a Bible, both props, for we've always known he is not a man of faith or faithfulness. He committed so many atrocities during this time, when we couldn't keep up with it all. He continued letting his felonious friends get away with their crimes, springing them from jail just before their sentence was about to begin. He refused to wear a mask, held large rallies, with people standing shoulder to shoulder, maskless, shouting, in indoor venues, even here in Arizona, as our numbers soared. While this went on, our wildfire started, the worst I've ever seen. It burned for over 30 days. Symptoms of smoke inhalation are identical to symptoms of COVID19. Protesters at risk of not just heat stroke, but smoke inhalation too. Surprisingly, they didn't drive the spread - it was bar-goers up in Scottsdale. Our governor refused to close restaurants or salons back down. He gave us a weeklong curfew after the Scottsdale Mall was vandalized, but when it came to preventing the spread of the virus, he stayed mum. He eventually shut down bars, pools, and gyms, seeming arbitrary decisions, while insisting he was following the science, the public health, but blocked local governments from shutting down or requiring masks. He finally reversed his decision and allowed local governments to mandate masks. He at least delayed the start of school, in person schooling anyway. Not because kids are thought to be superspreaders by any means, but if our hospitals are full, then we need the pediatric units to serve as surge units. And teachers are fearful.
This is where even Americans of the same party turn on each other. Teachers afraid to go back to work - yet they continue to eat food, which means they relied on other people to back to work - those that work the farms, the processing and packaging plants, the truck drivers, the stockers, the cashiers. They continued to take medicine. They continued to get medical care when they needed it. They couldn't see that their words were a slap in the face to those of us who kept working throughout for the good of our communities, or out of desperation to keep food on the table. They couldn't see their own privilege. I didn't want the schools to open in the midst of crisis, and I think the president is ridiculous for threatening to pull funding for schools that don't open, as if money would make the virus go away, but I did want the schools to be open for the kids who need it most - the kids at risk for abuse, neglect, substance use, depression, suicidality, the little ones who can't be left alone yet their parents need to work, and yet I kept seeing posts saying how selfish people like me were for not valuing teachers' lives. While I continued to go to work.
By mid July, depression had begun to affect me. I took turmeric and flaxseed oil, I ate low carb, I practiced meditation and spent time outdoors each day. But I couldn't bring myself to run or practice krav anymore. My brain was great at figuring out new protocols as new information came out, but then sluggish when it came to writing grants for the future. Stay at home employees snapping at essential employees, and us snapping back. By mid July, our hospitals were so overwhelmed that I was no longer willing to enter grocery stores anymore, and finally resorted to online ordering, but insisted on picking up the groceries myself, and feeling the guilt that the person bringing my groceries still had to be exposed to other shoppers. At least by then those shoppers were wearing masks. Witnessing grown men in Home Depot complaining about how stupid they looked in masks. I was tempted to say, "Actually, I think it's an improvement." But I was wise enough to hold my tongue.
In August, the boys online schooling started. The teachers put in alot of effort, but it was an absolute disaster. A few days before the start of school, I asked the principal how independent a kindergartner might be. She answered, "Ideally you'd sit right next to him and help him the entire time. But I know not everyone can do that. My youngest will be in daycare during the day and we'll do his classwork at night." This was heartbreaking to me. Sending kids to daycare because the schools were closed? Trying to cram a days' worth of learning into a child's brain at night???
While COVID 19 was ramping up, Tyrien caught stomach flu. We bleached everything we could in our house. A few days later, I got a call from Tyler's school, that kids there were getting stomach flu and he was looking and feeling sick. I picked him up, got him home where he perked up, then while I was out running errands, he succumbed. Rebleached. The next day, I came down with it too, despite my best efforts to avoid it. We spent that Saturday bleaching everything we could in our house. Then Sunday night, I got a scary email from the dean of the College of Medicine advising employees to work from home, and no more than 4 people were allowed to meet at any time, and my boss who never calls on nights or weekends was calling me on a Sunday night to make sure I'd seen that email.
I recovered from stomach flu just in time to walk into a pandemic.
Sunday night I texted the two employees most at risk, telling them to stay home. Monday morning, I arrived at work and told employees to keep the door locked. I put a sign on the door that we would be closed until 8:30am. I felt passionate that we needed to stay open, but checked in with my team. Most were equally passionate. One was concerned for his safety. We quickly laid out a mitigation plan for continuing operations. I then met with the concerned employee and reviewed his options with him. I remember saying, "You can go home if you want. But we have NO IDEA how long this might last." He decided to keep working.
People we serve ranged in emotions from kindness and appreciation to irritability, even lashing out at us. One person yelled at me, "YOU did this! YOU changed everything!" Before I could stop myself, I had blurted back, "The whole world changed! We are doing our best to try to stay open!"
Tyler was on spring break that week. He was supposed to spend the week at Grandma A's house. But Sunday night, when I read that memo from the dean, I had a sinking feeling in my heart, and called her to cancel. Three women in a house together, all at risk for severe infection. One boy who had just come from a busy, bustling school, with lots of kids whose parents travel back and forth from China, which at that time was the epicenter of the outbreak. The same boy who had just been on the mat in jujitsu class, rolling around with other kids, exchanging breath and sweat. It broke his heart, it was unfair to him and to her, but he needed to stay home.
My niece had texted me at some point, saying that her mom had suggested she come to Tucson if her camp shut down or things got too weird. For some reason, that Thursday, after reading the news, I felt the urge to call her. She answered the phone in tears, having just been told that her camp was shutting down and she needed to leave. I encouraged her to come to Tucson right away, concerned that the border between California and Arizona would close. That evening, I learned that Tyrien's daycare had shut down. We rearranged our house so that our niece could have the west side of the house to herself, anticipating that she would quarantine herself for the first 14 days. Within the first hour of her arrival, she had unpacked, even arranging her potted plants around the room. And then she stationed herself on the chaise lounge portion of our sectional sofa in the living room. Her personal belongings rested on the coffee table. Where I had envisioned a 22 year old wanting her privacy, it was clear what she really wanted was to be surrounded by family. I kept catching the boys creeping closer and closer to her on the chaise. Well, I'm the most likely spreader of the virus in our house, so I continued to keep my distance from her. On nights of insomnia, instead of sleeping in my usual spot on the chaise, I stayed on the other side of the couch, wanting to not contaminate her favorite spot. At least that was something I could do. She wanted to run together. I would run next to her, but at a distance. Yet somehow, she'd always end up closer to me.
Tyson and Tyrien, both at higher risk. How do you weigh whether to quarantine yourself or give in to family members' need for affection? Epigenetics research shows us that physical affection is vital for well-being. Tyrien and Tyler both gravitated toward me, snuggling with me on the couch in the early morning. I found myself asking questions which were too soon to answer. Which is more dangerous, the virus itself, or withdrawing physical affection? Which is more dangerous, aysmptomatic spread when speaking, or wearing a cloth mask and messing with it? At first, it felt like I couldn't get enough oxygen while wearing a mask - I can run 5 miles, no problem, but climbing the stairs while wearing a cloth mask left me out of breath. My body was telling me, "I need more oxygen." I tried to remind myself that if waterboarding tricks the body into thinking it's drowning, the cloth mask was just tricking me into thinking I was suffocating.
Which is more dangerous, not exercising, and letting our lung capacity diminish before we get sick, or running 5 miles and risking catching the virus from someone else's cross stream of breath?
This idea that the air we exhale can potentially kill someone else sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie. The first few months, it made me feel toxic. At first, I felt clean - we implemented such stringent measures at work - temperature checks twice a day, sanitizers at the entry and outside of the classrooms, even outside of the bathroom - wash your hands for 25 seconds in the bathroom, dry them, walk out of the bathroom, and sanitize. We took our masks off in our individual offices to give us breathing room. We sprayed the hot spots of the building with powerful disinfectants each day. At first we felt clean. But as the days marched on and began to blur together, our risk of making mistakes rose. And those mistakes can be fatal for someone else. As time went on, we learned it might even be fatal for us.
There was the time I tried wearing gloves along with my mask to the grocery store. The whole time in the store seemed fine. Then I got in the checkout line, and while waiting, bored, waiting, waiting, my nose itched and I scratched it. Every surface I had touched in the store was now on my nose. Every person who had touched every piece of fruit, every onion, every bottle of soda, was now on my face. I felt dirty and incompetent. No more gloves in the store for me. From now on, it's a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer in my pocked, and resolving to stay hypervigilant to avoid touching my face, unless it is with the inside of my shirt.
When I got home from work or the store, I wiped down surfaces in my car with a wipe before I'd get out. I'd lock the car with the wipe. I'd get the mail with a wipe. I'd slide my shoes off outside and leave them on the porch. And I wiped off the door knob as I entered the home. Wipe goes in the trash. Bag on the floor. Snapping, "I'm not huggable yet!" to the kids. Even the dog learned not to approach me upon arrival anymore. I'd wash my hands for 30 seconds, go to my room, remove my clothing, and wash my hands again before putting on new clothing. Then return to the living room and give hugs. Hoping I'm not poisoning my children. I hug my husband with my face turned away from him. We sleep head to toe, or facing away from each other. If he gets sick, I will move out of our room, and bring meals to his room. If I get sick, what then? The easiest thing will be for him to move out of our room, but let's be honest, he probably won't be willing to do that. Will I sleep on the patio outside our room? Mosquitos are out and it will be hot soon. In the storage room next to the laundry room? That means sharing a bathroom with Payton. In the office, where all the kids' stuff is, and use their bathroom and make them use mine? Or take over the kids' room, and make them share a room with Tyson, in the hopes that none of them will get it?
At the start, I drank elderberry extract twice a day, in a large glass of water. It's supposed to help prevent viral replication. If I get symptoms, I'm supposed to stop drinking it. I took turmeric, to reduce any inflammation in the lungs. It was allergy season, and nose spray isn't enough for me. Taking allegra each day. Had to restart flaxseed oil to try to help the skin on my hands maintain a barrier with all this excessive handwashing and sanitizing. It's not enough. I have to add clobetasol twice a day and lotion every chance I get, even before showering, just trying to keep the skin on my hands and wrists in tact.
I ate apples, onions, fruits, vegetables trying to get as many nutrients as I can. I didn't touch a drop of alcohol in all this time. Other people in my house see beer and spirits as relaxing. I saw it as poison now.
All this, and yet my exposure is far less than other healthcare workers. I'm working in a well clinic, not the sick clinic. I'm not spending hours caring for people suffering from this virus. If someone shows symptoms, we send them home. It's that asymptomatic spread that's so stressful to me. It's worrying that my husband and kids and niece might get sick enough to need the hospital, when the hospital is now such a dangerous place to be, and it would feel like it's my fault. My husband still goes to work, he still stops off at a store on the way home. My niece went inside a pharmacy to pick up medicine she needed. "Why didn't you go through the drive thru?" "I've never done that before." Normally I would resent the person who went through the drive thru. Unless you have a sleeping baby or toddler in the back of the car, you need to turn off your car and walk inside the store. But not during a pandemic. During a pandemic, you go through the freaking drive thru.
We celebrated Tyler's birthday during the pandemic. He was devastated to learn that I never sent out invitations to his party. He wanted a Plants versus Zombies party. I remember finding DIY invitations. I had filled them out. I was about to take them to get printed. We had planned the cake and activities and decorations. Instead, we just had a family dinner - he of course chose pizza. We had cake. He opened gifts from each of his grandmas while on the phone with them. How devastating that Grandma A couldn't join. I took video of him, the morning of his birthday, asking him to record his thoughts and feelings about the pandemic. In his video, he said he hated staying home, he would rather go to school.
Tyrien was relentlessly antagonizing Kylo. Nothing horribly cruel, it just has to be frustrating over time. Deliberately bumping him, driving his cars into him, crowding his face while giving him hugs. Kylo used to have separation anxiety. Now I wonder if he just wants us all to leave, so he can finally have some peace. People ask, "Why does Tyrien keep tormenting him?" Because he doesn't have Brody or Jackson to torment. For some reason, little kids seem to enjoy conflict. I can't relate. But up until about September, he was still plotting his arguments with them. He argued with them in his imaginative play. He planned imaginary play dates and anticipated the misdeeds they would do, and selected punishments for them, telling me, "Mom, when Brody comes over, he's going to wreck my train track, and you're going to have to say, "Brody, go to timeout. Don't touch Tyrien's track anymore! No more trains for you!" Is it any wonder he was deliberately annoying the dog he loves so much? He lost so much social interaction, intellectual and emotional stimulation. And his ways of annoying the dog include physical contact. He is desperate for physical affection, and I can't give him enough.
Payton left as Tyler's school year ended. I missed my newfound running partner, but overall was relieved - I got my quarantine space back. Food, water, and electricity costs dropped, though still much higher than before. We were spending twice as much on supplies as before. I bought toilet paper every time it was available, because it hadn't been available for so long, until I realized I'd inadvertently collected over 100 rolls. Once toilet paper was back in stock, meat became much harder to come by. And forget about buying Clorox wipes or hand sanitizer that didn't stink like whiskey. How funny, I'd never used Clorox wipes until 2015, when our house was on the market, and now suddenly, they seemed to be a necessity I couldn't access. We couldn't buy bleach either. The survivalist in me kicked in and I found a pool supply store, I bought calcium hypochlorite in case we ever ran out of bleach. The sales person tried to help me, as I debated between chemicals. When I asked questions, she asked what I was planning to use the chemical for. I stated, "A cleaning issue." She looked disturbed and became abruptly less helpful. It wasn't until after I left that I realized she was probably reflecting on police crime dramas and thinking I'd committed a horrible crime. I just didn't want to inadvertently create a run on HTH. I let my staff know I had the supply in my office, and would issue it if the time came.
Going to the grocery store used to be something I hated to do and avoided as much as possible. Since I was at the most risk of exposure at work anyway, and was the least likely in our family to have severe complications, I became the sole shopper for the family. Grocery shopping became an adventure - waiting in line before it opened, wondering which supplies might be available. An employee announcing to the customers waiting in line, "We DID get a shipment of toilet paper last night. You'll be going home with toilet paper today." An armed police officer standing next to the toilet paper line to make sure no violence broke out. Waiting your turn to enter the toilet paper aisle. Allowed one package of toilet paper. No bleach or hand sanitizer in sight. Sometimes there were paper towels, sometimes not. One package of eggs, one carton of milk per family, regardless of how many family members lived together. Later, meat was rationed too. Flour was never rationed, but couldn't be found for a long time. Nor could we find rice or beans. Sometimes there was no bread or tortillas. No pizzas or broccoli for a long time. So often, having to explain to the kids, "Sorry, but it's a pandemic." Hearing Tyrien repeat it back, in his tiny little five year old voice, "It's because of the pandemic."
Tyson and Tyrien, both at higher risk. How do you weigh whether to quarantine yourself or give in to family members' need for affection? Epigenetics research shows us that physical affection is vital for well-being. Tyrien and Tyler both gravitated toward me, snuggling with me on the couch in the early morning. I found myself asking questions which were too soon to answer. Which is more dangerous, the virus itself, or withdrawing physical affection? Which is more dangerous, aysmptomatic spread when speaking, or wearing a cloth mask and messing with it? At first, it felt like I couldn't get enough oxygen while wearing a mask - I can run 5 miles, no problem, but climbing the stairs while wearing a cloth mask left me out of breath. My body was telling me, "I need more oxygen." I tried to remind myself that if waterboarding tricks the body into thinking it's drowning, the cloth mask was just tricking me into thinking I was suffocating.
Which is more dangerous, not exercising, and letting our lung capacity diminish before we get sick, or running 5 miles and risking catching the virus from someone else's cross stream of breath?
This idea that the air we exhale can potentially kill someone else sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie. The first few months, it made me feel toxic. At first, I felt clean - we implemented such stringent measures at work - temperature checks twice a day, sanitizers at the entry and outside of the classrooms, even outside of the bathroom - wash your hands for 25 seconds in the bathroom, dry them, walk out of the bathroom, and sanitize. We took our masks off in our individual offices to give us breathing room. We sprayed the hot spots of the building with powerful disinfectants each day. At first we felt clean. But as the days marched on and began to blur together, our risk of making mistakes rose. And those mistakes can be fatal for someone else. As time went on, we learned it might even be fatal for us.
There was the time I tried wearing gloves along with my mask to the grocery store. The whole time in the store seemed fine. Then I got in the checkout line, and while waiting, bored, waiting, waiting, my nose itched and I scratched it. Every surface I had touched in the store was now on my nose. Every person who had touched every piece of fruit, every onion, every bottle of soda, was now on my face. I felt dirty and incompetent. No more gloves in the store for me. From now on, it's a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer in my pocked, and resolving to stay hypervigilant to avoid touching my face, unless it is with the inside of my shirt.
When I got home from work or the store, I wiped down surfaces in my car with a wipe before I'd get out. I'd lock the car with the wipe. I'd get the mail with a wipe. I'd slide my shoes off outside and leave them on the porch. And I wiped off the door knob as I entered the home. Wipe goes in the trash. Bag on the floor. Snapping, "I'm not huggable yet!" to the kids. Even the dog learned not to approach me upon arrival anymore. I'd wash my hands for 30 seconds, go to my room, remove my clothing, and wash my hands again before putting on new clothing. Then return to the living room and give hugs. Hoping I'm not poisoning my children. I hug my husband with my face turned away from him. We sleep head to toe, or facing away from each other. If he gets sick, I will move out of our room, and bring meals to his room. If I get sick, what then? The easiest thing will be for him to move out of our room, but let's be honest, he probably won't be willing to do that. Will I sleep on the patio outside our room? Mosquitos are out and it will be hot soon. In the storage room next to the laundry room? That means sharing a bathroom with Payton. In the office, where all the kids' stuff is, and use their bathroom and make them use mine? Or take over the kids' room, and make them share a room with Tyson, in the hopes that none of them will get it?
At the start, I drank elderberry extract twice a day, in a large glass of water. It's supposed to help prevent viral replication. If I get symptoms, I'm supposed to stop drinking it. I took turmeric, to reduce any inflammation in the lungs. It was allergy season, and nose spray isn't enough for me. Taking allegra each day. Had to restart flaxseed oil to try to help the skin on my hands maintain a barrier with all this excessive handwashing and sanitizing. It's not enough. I have to add clobetasol twice a day and lotion every chance I get, even before showering, just trying to keep the skin on my hands and wrists in tact.
I ate apples, onions, fruits, vegetables trying to get as many nutrients as I can. I didn't touch a drop of alcohol in all this time. Other people in my house see beer and spirits as relaxing. I saw it as poison now.
All this, and yet my exposure is far less than other healthcare workers. I'm working in a well clinic, not the sick clinic. I'm not spending hours caring for people suffering from this virus. If someone shows symptoms, we send them home. It's that asymptomatic spread that's so stressful to me. It's worrying that my husband and kids and niece might get sick enough to need the hospital, when the hospital is now such a dangerous place to be, and it would feel like it's my fault. My husband still goes to work, he still stops off at a store on the way home. My niece went inside a pharmacy to pick up medicine she needed. "Why didn't you go through the drive thru?" "I've never done that before." Normally I would resent the person who went through the drive thru. Unless you have a sleeping baby or toddler in the back of the car, you need to turn off your car and walk inside the store. But not during a pandemic. During a pandemic, you go through the freaking drive thru.
We celebrated Tyler's birthday during the pandemic. He was devastated to learn that I never sent out invitations to his party. He wanted a Plants versus Zombies party. I remember finding DIY invitations. I had filled them out. I was about to take them to get printed. We had planned the cake and activities and decorations. Instead, we just had a family dinner - he of course chose pizza. We had cake. He opened gifts from each of his grandmas while on the phone with them. How devastating that Grandma A couldn't join. I took video of him, the morning of his birthday, asking him to record his thoughts and feelings about the pandemic. In his video, he said he hated staying home, he would rather go to school.
Tyrien was relentlessly antagonizing Kylo. Nothing horribly cruel, it just has to be frustrating over time. Deliberately bumping him, driving his cars into him, crowding his face while giving him hugs. Kylo used to have separation anxiety. Now I wonder if he just wants us all to leave, so he can finally have some peace. People ask, "Why does Tyrien keep tormenting him?" Because he doesn't have Brody or Jackson to torment. For some reason, little kids seem to enjoy conflict. I can't relate. But up until about September, he was still plotting his arguments with them. He argued with them in his imaginative play. He planned imaginary play dates and anticipated the misdeeds they would do, and selected punishments for them, telling me, "Mom, when Brody comes over, he's going to wreck my train track, and you're going to have to say, "Brody, go to timeout. Don't touch Tyrien's track anymore! No more trains for you!" Is it any wonder he was deliberately annoying the dog he loves so much? He lost so much social interaction, intellectual and emotional stimulation. And his ways of annoying the dog include physical contact. He is desperate for physical affection, and I can't give him enough.
Payton left as Tyler's school year ended. I missed my newfound running partner, but overall was relieved - I got my quarantine space back. Food, water, and electricity costs dropped, though still much higher than before. We were spending twice as much on supplies as before. I bought toilet paper every time it was available, because it hadn't been available for so long, until I realized I'd inadvertently collected over 100 rolls. Once toilet paper was back in stock, meat became much harder to come by. And forget about buying Clorox wipes or hand sanitizer that didn't stink like whiskey. How funny, I'd never used Clorox wipes until 2015, when our house was on the market, and now suddenly, they seemed to be a necessity I couldn't access. We couldn't buy bleach either. The survivalist in me kicked in and I found a pool supply store, I bought calcium hypochlorite in case we ever ran out of bleach. The sales person tried to help me, as I debated between chemicals. When I asked questions, she asked what I was planning to use the chemical for. I stated, "A cleaning issue." She looked disturbed and became abruptly less helpful. It wasn't until after I left that I realized she was probably reflecting on police crime dramas and thinking I'd committed a horrible crime. I just didn't want to inadvertently create a run on HTH. I let my staff know I had the supply in my office, and would issue it if the time came.
Going to the grocery store used to be something I hated to do and avoided as much as possible. Since I was at the most risk of exposure at work anyway, and was the least likely in our family to have severe complications, I became the sole shopper for the family. Grocery shopping became an adventure - waiting in line before it opened, wondering which supplies might be available. An employee announcing to the customers waiting in line, "We DID get a shipment of toilet paper last night. You'll be going home with toilet paper today." An armed police officer standing next to the toilet paper line to make sure no violence broke out. Waiting your turn to enter the toilet paper aisle. Allowed one package of toilet paper. No bleach or hand sanitizer in sight. Sometimes there were paper towels, sometimes not. One package of eggs, one carton of milk per family, regardless of how many family members lived together. Later, meat was rationed too. Flour was never rationed, but couldn't be found for a long time. Nor could we find rice or beans. Sometimes there was no bread or tortillas. No pizzas or broccoli for a long time. So often, having to explain to the kids, "Sorry, but it's a pandemic." Hearing Tyrien repeat it back, in his tiny little five year old voice, "It's because of the pandemic."
We did well for March, April, and part of May. Then the governor ended his stay at home order, and things went to shit. Masks somehow became a political divide. Our parking lot at times gets dangerous- whatever drugs people are resorting to these days are giving them superhuman strength and rage. One co-worker's child ended up in the psych hospital, the other in jail, both for symptoms consistent with mental illness induced by the circumstances. Had the second child been white, he probably would have been sent to the psych ward instead of jail. That was just before the week of murders committed by police officers and George-Zimmerman copy cats - a father-son duo that hunted and killed a black teenager, a two rookie cops not knowing what to do when two more seasoned cops insisted on excessive force on a man who said he couldn't breathe, until he died. Over a $20 freaking bill. A woman, a healthcare worker, shot in her own bed during a drug bust - except they got the wrong house. The list went on. Our president hid in a bunker one night, then after that was leaked to the media, deployed the military, ordered dispersal by force upon peaceful protesters, so that he could walk, escorted by generals, to a church in a fantastic show of power, then pose with his gorgeous model wife and a Bible, both props, for we've always known he is not a man of faith or faithfulness. He committed so many atrocities during this time, when we couldn't keep up with it all. He continued letting his felonious friends get away with their crimes, springing them from jail just before their sentence was about to begin. He refused to wear a mask, held large rallies, with people standing shoulder to shoulder, maskless, shouting, in indoor venues, even here in Arizona, as our numbers soared. While this went on, our wildfire started, the worst I've ever seen. It burned for over 30 days. Symptoms of smoke inhalation are identical to symptoms of COVID19. Protesters at risk of not just heat stroke, but smoke inhalation too. Surprisingly, they didn't drive the spread - it was bar-goers up in Scottsdale. Our governor refused to close restaurants or salons back down. He gave us a weeklong curfew after the Scottsdale Mall was vandalized, but when it came to preventing the spread of the virus, he stayed mum. He eventually shut down bars, pools, and gyms, seeming arbitrary decisions, while insisting he was following the science, the public health, but blocked local governments from shutting down or requiring masks. He finally reversed his decision and allowed local governments to mandate masks. He at least delayed the start of school, in person schooling anyway. Not because kids are thought to be superspreaders by any means, but if our hospitals are full, then we need the pediatric units to serve as surge units. And teachers are fearful.
This is where even Americans of the same party turn on each other. Teachers afraid to go back to work - yet they continue to eat food, which means they relied on other people to back to work - those that work the farms, the processing and packaging plants, the truck drivers, the stockers, the cashiers. They continued to take medicine. They continued to get medical care when they needed it. They couldn't see that their words were a slap in the face to those of us who kept working throughout for the good of our communities, or out of desperation to keep food on the table. They couldn't see their own privilege. I didn't want the schools to open in the midst of crisis, and I think the president is ridiculous for threatening to pull funding for schools that don't open, as if money would make the virus go away, but I did want the schools to be open for the kids who need it most - the kids at risk for abuse, neglect, substance use, depression, suicidality, the little ones who can't be left alone yet their parents need to work, and yet I kept seeing posts saying how selfish people like me were for not valuing teachers' lives. While I continued to go to work.
By mid July, depression had begun to affect me. I took turmeric and flaxseed oil, I ate low carb, I practiced meditation and spent time outdoors each day. But I couldn't bring myself to run or practice krav anymore. My brain was great at figuring out new protocols as new information came out, but then sluggish when it came to writing grants for the future. Stay at home employees snapping at essential employees, and us snapping back. By mid July, our hospitals were so overwhelmed that I was no longer willing to enter grocery stores anymore, and finally resorted to online ordering, but insisted on picking up the groceries myself, and feeling the guilt that the person bringing my groceries still had to be exposed to other shoppers. At least by then those shoppers were wearing masks. Witnessing grown men in Home Depot complaining about how stupid they looked in masks. I was tempted to say, "Actually, I think it's an improvement." But I was wise enough to hold my tongue.
In August, the boys online schooling started. The teachers put in alot of effort, but it was an absolute disaster. A few days before the start of school, I asked the principal how independent a kindergartner might be. She answered, "Ideally you'd sit right next to him and help him the entire time. But I know not everyone can do that. My youngest will be in daycare during the day and we'll do his classwork at night." This was heartbreaking to me. Sending kids to daycare because the schools were closed? Trying to cram a days' worth of learning into a child's brain at night???
We set Tyler up in the office. He was happy to be independently doing his work. It seemed great. Until we realized he was failing three classes.
Tyrien on the other hand, we set up at the dinner table. Tyson sat next to him in the morning while I was at work. I'd come home at lunch and he'd leave for work, with me sitting next to Tyrien. Most weeks, I was unable to do more than answer email until after 3:20 each day. So then I felt obligated to work up until dinner time to offset my time. This meant less time for chores, less time for cooking dinner, less time to actually enjoy time with my kids. At a time when there were more dishes than ever, more dirt than ever, more stress than ever. Tyrien's teacher had them do water color often. In front of a laptop. Tyler needed help printing something, which seemed to be the case each day. While I was helping Tyler, Tyrien spilled water on the laptop and fried it. The keyboard no longer worked. Trying to type a question to the teacher was now impossible.
It felt like the world of non-parents, non-working parents, parents of grown children, etc., were hearing about parents like us and judging us, and deeming us selfish or lazy. The truth was, we were working harder than ever, but were feeling like we weren't doing enough for anyone. Failing at working, failing at teaching, failing at parenting. We texted each other when we snapped at our kids, admitting to each other that we were losing our tempers more often than we would like. This caused me to fear for so many other kids out there, who were either home alone, or whose parents had less skills and resources than we did.
Kylo became afraid of the dark, refusing to go out back at night, and even refusing to go for evening walks with me. The behaviorist came back out to evaluate. She increased his dose of medicine. She observed him playing with the kids, and commented, "I think you have a REALLY...GOOD...dog." She showed Tyson that Kylo's behavior towards him was love and affection. Where 7 months earlier, she had described Kylo as annoying, obnoxious, pushy and fearful, she now described him as "pushy and extremely sensitive." She felt his increase in fear and anxiety was the result of the fears and anxieties of the humans in the house.
In early October, I tried out the university's "Test, Trace, Treat" plan. Unfortunately, I had a false positive. Of course I did. In August I had a false positive TB test. I flunked a glaucoma screen. So of course I would have a false positive COVID19 test! But not knowing that it was false, I followed the protocol. Called Campus Health, Risk Management, and Facilities Management, to send out "The Germbusters." Tried to get a confirmation test and was denied. Tyson was banned from his workplace. Fortunately, he was able to schedule all 4 of us for PCR tests through the county that morning. I broke into the house through the family room door, scaling a wall to do it. Once they left, I swept through the house, spraying the high touch surfaces and stripping the bed. All this annoyed Tyson to no end. After the test, I stayed on my side of the house, wearing my mask up until I went to sleep. I completed the contact tracing program, raided the kitchen for the coffee pot, coffee, tea, beef jerky, clif bars, and ramen. The next morning I learned that the president himself had tested positive for COVID19, and members of his team. Fortunately, soon after, I received my results - negative. Spent the day trying to undo all the work from the day before. Turned out there were a whole batch of false positives the day before. Nonetheless, Saturday, Pima County Health Department called for contact tracing.
In early October, I tried out the university's "Test, Trace, Treat" plan. Unfortunately, I had a false positive. Of course I did. In August I had a false positive TB test. I flunked a glaucoma screen. So of course I would have a false positive COVID19 test! But not knowing that it was false, I followed the protocol. Called Campus Health, Risk Management, and Facilities Management, to send out "The Germbusters." Tried to get a confirmation test and was denied. Tyson was banned from his workplace. Fortunately, he was able to schedule all 4 of us for PCR tests through the county that morning. I broke into the house through the family room door, scaling a wall to do it. Once they left, I swept through the house, spraying the high touch surfaces and stripping the bed. All this annoyed Tyson to no end. After the test, I stayed on my side of the house, wearing my mask up until I went to sleep. I completed the contact tracing program, raided the kitchen for the coffee pot, coffee, tea, beef jerky, clif bars, and ramen. The next morning I learned that the president himself had tested positive for COVID19, and members of his team. Fortunately, soon after, I received my results - negative. Spent the day trying to undo all the work from the day before. Turned out there were a whole batch of false positives the day before. Nonetheless, Saturday, Pima County Health Department called for contact tracing.
One day, Tyrien saw kids riding their bikes near our house. "Look, Mom. Kids! I'm not allowed to play with them, though." It sounded so apocalyptic! He hadn't been with other kids since March. 7 months.
Last week the boys both started flag football. Indoor jujitsu seems too high risk (as well as indoor krav maga.) Outdoor sports seem a safer bet. Tyrien chose flag football, and to my surprise, Tyler said he wanted to try it, too. Tyrien danced in the dining room just before his first practice. He was so excited to be with kids again.
Finally, tomorrow, the boys get to go to school for in person learning. Hoping we made the right call. Hoping this is the right choice for them. Hoping once the schools open, they can stay open, for those kids for whom this seems to be the right choice.
Hoping for peace. Hoping for healing. Hoping for hope. Hoping.
