The writing is on the wall.

Last Sunday, ten days after it was clear CV-19 had landed in Michigan, my wife and I agreed I should take a temporary medical leave from the grocery store I work at, deemed an essential service. After several private discussions with the man steering the ship, the option was put on the table. It was not an easy decision. In those first ten days many things were becoming clear. Every country who was already dealing with the virus had vastly underestimated its capabilities. We watched the video diaries of Italians telling themselves what they wished they'd knew ten days prior. We watched the evidence roll out describing how incredibly contagious this is. We watched our president downplay the virus's threat at every turn. I watched coworkers and the public alike resist the change needed to comply with the unraveling evidence. I watched my company continue to make the wrong decisions to protect its own, and conversely, because of this make the worker-body more dangerous to the public. Life, let alone business, could not continue as usual. Yet, with the exception of the most minor of changes, it was as usual. So I bowed out.

The thing I've been most perplexed by is the arc of people's reaction to the severity of this crisis. I've talked to people who downright scoff at the severity of the virus. I've talked with people who are concerned but not enough to change their routines. I've talked with people who are deeply concerned but also feel a sense of duty to put a smile on and trudge forward. I've talked with people who walk into their workplace having just sat in their car for fifteen minutes weeping with a sense of dread, yet still show up. And I've talked with people who see the evidence, as my wife and I do, and have also chosen to bow out. I feel sympathy for most of these people, but I resent some of them who continue to act impervious to the threat. This sort of disregard makes me feel they are also a threat. What I feel most is empathy for those who could not be with their father, mother, brother, sister, friend, or relative as they died alone in isolation; These who grieve from the window-view of a car during the funeral, unable to hold and weep with one another for fear they might also contract the virus and meet the same fate.

To be fair, I was not as concerned in the first few days as my wife was. I'm learning that she has always been someone who feels things, particularly the threat to her safety, in a deeper way than I do. I'm a tall and relatively strong man whose been raised with the privilege of patriarchy, I cannot process physical threat the same way as someone more vulnerable. But I'm trying. The same way I'm trying to process the threat to those most at risk of having their lives upended, or even ended, by the virus.

After we had our one-and-only kiddo eight years ago, some things changed for her. I've done my best to understand the bond between her and our beloved but continually fall short as I can only imagine the experience of growing the future within one's body. While I've been skeptical about many things and ways to be in this world, I cannot deny her claim she may be an Empath. Evidence of this was perhaps clearest the last time I suited up for work, disposable gloves and pocket-sanitizer in tow, and walked out the door, leaving her behind as she wept for the fact I may not only bring the threat home with me, but I may pass it along to others I would share space with that day. There are some on this spectrum of threat assessment who might smack their foreheads by this reaction, but they are not me, and they are not her. When together we made the call that I would not return to work a wave of relief washed over her. So we're home watching, reading, and listening to how the world is dealing with this, adhering to the advice of scientific authorities. We're mourning the non-action and what feel like too-little-too-late-changes of decision makers bearing the weight of keeping us safe. We're having discussions with those who occupy different space in the threat-assessment spectrum, hoping to move the needle a little toward her end, the end I needed nudging toward. 

For us, the writing was on the wall 15 days ago as we read about Italian doctors making choices about who to give limited resources to and who not to give resources to. 15 days ago the writing was on the wall when the World Health Organization's Director, Tedros Ghebreyesus, said:

“In the days and weeks ahead, we expect to see the number of cases, the number of deaths and the number of affected countries climb even higher. WHO has been assessing this outbreak around the clock, and we are deeply concerned both by the alarming levels of spread and severity and by the alarming levels of inaction.”

15 days ago the writing was on the wall when President Trump claimed the opposite position of most health officials, saying in his Oval Office speech: “This is just a temporary moment of time that we will overcome as a nation and as a world.” 15 days later, we know better. It's still unclear if he knows any better as he pushes the rhetoric of going back to business-as-usual in a mere 16 days.

By no means am I able to claim what is right for you and yours. I am so far from an authority on anything in this world that I doubt even what I'm writing here. Bowing out works for our family thanks to the generosity of our family. Not everyone is as privileged as we are, I get that. However, I fear that soon too many will regret holding onto regular concerns that will reveal themselves as invalid in the face of suffering and death and that soon everyone will have to acknowledge the writing has been on the wall.

. . . and they die alone.

I had a thought yesterday: what if 'the virus' really is a giant hoax? The 1997 movie, The Game, in which Michael Douglas plays Nicholas Van Orton, a billionaire asshole who's lost track of what is really valuable in life, is given a birthday gift from his brother, played by Sean Penn, who claims this gift will change his life. The gift, a mysterious game, upends Nicholas's life such that all reality is questionable. A romantic interest has ulterior motives, he's hunted by god knows who, and clues never reveal their purpose until he's on the precipice of death. And the ending . . . well, you'll just have to watch it.

This movie has stuck with me for years.

Our household is captured by the COVID-19 crisis. Not literally. We're all okay. But I work for 1 of the 2 industries exempt from the escalating closures attempting to 'flatten the curve.' I returned to work today after three days off to find that, as of today, business is not as usual. Of course, the business has not been 'as usual' since last Thursday as we've seen record numbers all across the board. If it were a holiday and the numbers were part of a well executed strategy we'd have reason to celebrate. These numbers are more depressing than anything. But today, we were given the go ahead on limiting the number of people in our building. A combination of things led to this decision, ultimately it was assessed the public was ready for it. Already positive reviews have been made about the limitations, a good sign that from here we can implement more restrictions that should hopefully put the staff and public on safer grounds. Though it may be too late for some, many, or god forbid, all of us. There is a reason that we can watch videos of Chinese health officials dragging unwilling CV-positive patrons into isolation and read the testimonies of Italian doctors who have to choose who of their dying patients get ventilators and who will not. And that was last week.

As we keep our ears to the ground and our eyes glued to screens hoping to hear and see the next new bit of news that would give us a little more clarity about what to expect, I'm continually struck by the diverging opinions about the severity of this situation we've found ourselves in. I've heard some use the term fatalistic as we learn about how asymptomatic carriers can pass the virus. But some are cavalier about it. I asked a couple coworkers this morning if they were worried about it, both nearly chuckled at me, as though merely asking the question was ludicrous. There's been a lot lobbed at the Millenials, attempting to demonize them and their 'it can't happen to me' complex as the problem. I agree with some of that, just not the demonizing part. My experience has been that along with the young, many of the older are just as skeptical. I've watched boomers as well roll their eyes and return to business as usual. I've mostly given up on changing minds over this, with the exception of writing this and posting links on social media. I'm not sure the minds inclined not to believe this is serious are the sort of minds that won't believe until the virus is knocking on their door, or their family's door. There are certain aspects of life that we just can't understand . . . until we do.

My most consistent refrain has been to invoke the stories of those who are suffering and dying right now because their community was under-prepared for what is happening. You could argue that no community could be ready for something like this. But our, the nation and it's elected officials,' inability to heed the wisdom of the world's experience in this crisis is a culprit worth demonizing. You can watch our President downplay CV-19's potential for the last 7 weeks. With Monday's closings of bars and restaurants in many states, finally, it seems the White House is acknowledging that while we have TREMENDOUS help on the way, we might actually be in a pickle, possibly until July or August.

I look forward to reading what people smarter than me write about this crisis after we come out of it. What cultural quality or demographic will Time tell is most culpable? Will it be the Millenials, who essentially inherit the ever-after of this? Will it be the elected Boomers whose policies have worshiped Capitalism to the detriment of our infrastructure?  What about the X'ers and Y'ers and our malaise amidst privilege? Will it be our rugged American individualism that refuses to take the epidemiologists and pandemic specialists at their word? Will it be the legacy of our 'fake news' culture for the past four years? I'm sure I'm missing a slew of angles that will be postulated, but I suspect no one factor will be the factor.

But as only 53% of Americans believe the Coronavirus could infect someone in their family, polled two days ago, we must listen to the stories of those dealing with suffering and death in this crisis. Yesterday, The New York Times' podcast, The Daily, interviewed Italian Doctor, Fabiano Di Marco, head of the respiratory unit of the Hospital Papa Giovanni XXIII in Bergamo, Italy who said:

"We are scared because on Friday, only in my hospital we had 20 deaths . . . from Coronavirus in one day . . . so another important thing we have not the opportunity to allow the relatives to come to the hospital for two reasons, first, it's a danger for them and for other people in Italy because in 80% of the cases they are infected. The second reason which is not easy to understand if you are not in this situation is that we do not have enough personal protective equipment . . . it's impossible to find these in Europe not only in Italy . . . if I allow one or two relatives to come to the hospital I have to give them these but we do not have these for us . . . they cannot receive the relative in hospital so the patients are alone . . . and they die alone."

I feel like I'm falling. This experience is so foreign to me it's hard to believe. So we're leaning on those who spend their lives studying these things. We're washing our hands, a lot. When I go out to work and return, I strip my clothes and shoes off and throw them in the washer, every time. I shaved my beard down so I'm less inclined to touch my face. And at times we have to turn the news off because our kid gets freaked out. This is something she'll remember. This may be something that defines her generation.

I'm waiting for this fall to reveal break-away glass and a landing pad to break my fall, revealing it was all in the plan and everything is okay. But I'm not holding my breath, except when I strafe between bodies in public space. I suspect, because Italy, France, China, South Korea, and Spain have screamed into the void, I will in some way be touched by the suffering and the death this crisis has and is still producing. I hear you. Will we?