Breaking point..

I’ve been social distancing for about three weeks now, after Jessica expressed concerns for Robert and I, who are both diabetic. She and I agreed, sadly, that there would be no Grammy sleepovers or family dinners for a while. I work from home and aside from dinners out with Robert or the occasional concert or event, staying home by myself is pretty much my daily routine anyway.

Like most people, I’ve been battling the fear, anxiety and some depression that has come with the whole Coronavirus pandemic. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night many times, feeling a deep sense of dread and certainty that I, or one of my loved ones, will certainly die. I wake up every morning and search my mind for some happy thoughts, something that will make the day less dreadful and scary. I think of Jessica laughing at some silly joke she made, Petra doing headstands while we were watching a movie, then falling over on Robert and I, planting her feet in our faces, or funny things Robert has said and done.

I must say I’ve done a really good job of staying positive.

Until I went to the grocery store yesterday. On the way there I heard on the news that Denver was invoking a stay-at-home order–meaning you could now be stopped and have to produce papers stating that you had a valid reason to be out. (In fairness, I think that mostly applies to people who are gathering in groups.) But chills went down my spine. We were officially entering time in history that we had only read about in history books. The roads, which had previously been pretty empty of cars, were suddenly busy as I drove through the neighborhood, and I realized as I followed long lines of cars that they were all headed for the same grocery store I was. In that instant, I felt a shift from the novelty of choosing to stay at home, to an official order to do so.

The good news is, when I got to the grocery store there was toilet paper on the shelves. The bad news is, that was my breaking point, and as I picked up a small package of four rolls, I burst into tears. Luckily everyone was six feet away so they didn’t see my ugly crying, and I had my lysol wipe to swipe my tears away.

I don’t know why that particular moment broke me. It was only toilet paper. Perhaps it was because I was surrounded by people who had all been feeling the same way I had, or more likely it was because I had just been denying the potential severity of what’s been going on around me. Either way, I cried all the way home, and woke up this morning with positive thoughts again. You might say I have surrendered to that elusive, sometimes controversial thing called Faith. I have been doing everything possible to stay safe and keep my family safe, and worrying about the outcome constantly isn’t doing me any good. The old saying “You could be hit by a bus tomorrow” came to mind, and the reality is there are so many things that could kill any one of us that we can’t control.

I feel much better today, and I’ll continue to engage in safe practices. But instead of reading the headlines as soon as I woke up, I scrolled back through the pictures on my phone and smiled at all the great times I have with my loved ones. Then I watched funniest home videos (thank you to whoever posts them on my FB thread). Now I am talking to people in Elbert County (which I cover for CCM) about how they’re dealing with the pandemic, and how they are all coming together to help each other.

My soul and mind are refreshed, and although I’m sure I’ll likely have many more breakdowns before this is over, today I’m happy.

My my my my Coronavirus!

“Please place your item in the bag.”

“I did put it in the bag you crazy witch!”

“Did you bring your own bag?”

“Yes dammit!”

“Please place your item in the bag.”

“Argh! It’s yeast, it doesn’t weigh anything, I’ve already put it in the bag!”

“Help is on the way.”

This is the conversation I just had, along with two other ladies at the grocery store, with the self-checkout attendant. We were all aware she wasn’t going to talk back, but all up and down the check-outs I heard these frustrating conversations going on. I don’t usually use self-check out because of these frustrations, but the lines at the real check-outs were literally out the door, as people are stocking up for the coronavirus apocalypse.

The two ladies next to me were in a frenzy because they just closed most of the schools in the area for about a month, and now they were left with their children at home, and suddenly have to feed them three meals a day, when many kids eat at least lunch at school, while many others eat breakfast and lunch. Their kitchen duty just tripled, and they simply weren’t prepared.

Those who know me know that I’ve always planned for an apocalypse on some scale. Due to my upbringing by government fearing parents, along with my short stint as a hard-core Mormon, I’ve always tried to have some kind of food storage on hand. Granted, it consists mostly of tuna, egg noodles and cream-of-mushroom soup, because I am prepared to live on tuna casserole indefinitely. Toilet paper, not so much. I’ve used many a paper towels or napkins to take care of business over my lifetime. My parents have been full-time snow-birders for years now, and live in a small trailer with a small tank for toilet water. They have a four-square rule for toilet paper, which I might have to adopt depending on the length of the toilet paper shortage.

While I don’t believe the coronavirus is going to be the apocalypse that ends life as we know it, I have had my share of fear and emotion as I watch it play out in the news. I’m not a senior citizen, but both Robert and I have diabetes, which is getting a fair amount of fear-fueled hype from the media regarding higher death rates if we do catch it.

That being said, I’m not really worried. I work from home and have unknowingly participated in social isolation for years, since I just don’t spend a lot of time in big crowds. Staying home, eating tuna casserole and watching bad T.V. is not really an inconvenience to me.

Since I’ve settled in Colorado and married Robert, I’ve enjoyed the luxury of having a better stocked pantry, including toilet paper, on a regular basis. (Who knew you could actually buy it in packages of more than four rolls?) But I remember many times when Jessica was young that I didn’t have the financial ability to keep more than two weeks of food in the house. I lived paycheck to paycheck, and any unexpected expenses, or loss of income, was devastating. I reported to work sick many times, and shame on me for doing that.

So with all the hype about the coronapocalypse, I would ask that everyone I know please be tolerant with each other, and let’s find a way to help each other through this, without judgment. Like almost everything in America this has created a divide–those who believe they should prepare vs. those who think it’s not that big of deal. Regardless of which side you’re on, the fact is that senior citizens are the ones dying here, and almost all of us have a senior person we care about.

Imagine if a care-giver, such as a CNA or home health support person, who don’t make a lot of money, continue caring for an elderly person even though they are sick, because if they don’t they won’t be able to feed their family. But if they admit to being sick, they run the risk of being sent home, without pay, for however long it takes them to recover and no longer be contagious. I personally would share my tuna casserole provisions with them so their children could eat and the old people might stay alive.

Here’s how we can all help. Of course if you’re sick, stay home. If you may have been around someone who is infected, stay away from old people. If you have a little extra income or provisions, donate to your local food bank. And for God’s sake, if you have a square to spare, share it with your neighbor!