On Tuesday, I took a train from Connecticut to Virginia. A train! Five short days later--long days, really--that is unimaginable to me. To think, I just stood on the platform near a bunch of other people, waltzed on through the doors, and plunked myself in a seat. Sure, I wiped the area down, but I sat there for six hours breathing the same air as dozens of other passengers. I used the germy bathroom. I got ginger ale from the cafe car. Those small actions repulse me now.
At least nobody sat next to me. I had a strategy to avoid that.
The train stopped even stopped in New Rochelle, just after I read this article that New York Governor Cuomo had imposed a "containment area" there. Great.
I arrived home and stopped by the CVS to idly grab some cough medicine. I was going to buy a thermometer, but it seemed too expensive at 11 bucks. "I'll get something cheaper on Amazon." That was before I realized that the only thermometers you could get on Amazon are 30 buck things that you stick in your ear. All of the simple ones are sold out.
I went home. I took a shower. I read about Joe Biden winning some primaries.
On Wednesday, I still wasn't all that concerned. I went to yoga at the gym. It was crowded. At the end of the peaceful class, just after we bowed and said Namaste, the instructor said, "Wash your hands and wipe your stuff down because we're all going to die." The class giggled. I halfheartedly wiped down the blocks after I used them.
I went to a dinner party. Each of us apologized whenever we let out a small cough. We ate tacos. We grabbed various spoons and bowls and passed them around while eating. We had washed our hands beforehand. Jennifer, the hostess, indicated that she resisted asking us to bring over some Corona.
We talked about the news, of course. WHO had declared a pandemic earlier in the day. My school was moved to remote learning. The NBA canceled. More cases popped up around the country and across the world. And then, during dinner, Heather looked up from her phone and asked, "When is Rebecca coming back from Ethiopia?" Trump had given an address from the Oval Office in which he blocked travelers coming from Europe. Our friend was due to fly through Europe. The air left the room as we researched to make sure that she was coming back in time.
Thursday came, and news began piling up, the panic embraced me slowly, squeezing me. I still went to water aerobics at the gym, but it didn't seem like a very good idea, though I was pretty sure the chlorine would kill the virus. I did some grocery shopping on Thursday during the day and bought a cart full of groceries and supplies. We had another dinner party. It was a bit less jovial. We traded news about what had happened that day. I think that was the day the market crashed. So much happened that it was hard to keep track.
At least nobody sat next to me. I had a strategy to avoid that.
New passenger: "Is this seat taken?"
Me: "Coughcoughcough. No. Coughcough. Please, have a seat."
The train stopped even stopped in New Rochelle, just after I read this article that New York Governor Cuomo had imposed a "containment area" there. Great.
I arrived home and stopped by the CVS to idly grab some cough medicine. I was going to buy a thermometer, but it seemed too expensive at 11 bucks. "I'll get something cheaper on Amazon." That was before I realized that the only thermometers you could get on Amazon are 30 buck things that you stick in your ear. All of the simple ones are sold out.
I went home. I took a shower. I read about Joe Biden winning some primaries.
On Wednesday, I still wasn't all that concerned. I went to yoga at the gym. It was crowded. At the end of the peaceful class, just after we bowed and said Namaste, the instructor said, "Wash your hands and wipe your stuff down because we're all going to die." The class giggled. I halfheartedly wiped down the blocks after I used them.
I went to a dinner party. Each of us apologized whenever we let out a small cough. We ate tacos. We grabbed various spoons and bowls and passed them around while eating. We had washed our hands beforehand. Jennifer, the hostess, indicated that she resisted asking us to bring over some Corona.
We talked about the news, of course. WHO had declared a pandemic earlier in the day. My school was moved to remote learning. The NBA canceled. More cases popped up around the country and across the world. And then, during dinner, Heather looked up from her phone and asked, "When is Rebecca coming back from Ethiopia?" Trump had given an address from the Oval Office in which he blocked travelers coming from Europe. Our friend was due to fly through Europe. The air left the room as we researched to make sure that she was coming back in time.
Thursday came, and news began piling up, the panic embraced me slowly, squeezing me. I still went to water aerobics at the gym, but it didn't seem like a very good idea, though I was pretty sure the chlorine would kill the virus. I did some grocery shopping on Thursday during the day and bought a cart full of groceries and supplies. We had another dinner party. It was a bit less jovial. We traded news about what had happened that day. I think that was the day the market crashed. So much happened that it was hard to keep track.
And then Friday morning at 3am, I woke up and read this article stating: "'Our results indicate that aerosol and fomite transmission of HCoV-19 is plausible, as the virus can remain viable in aerosols for multiple hours and on surfaces up to days,' reads the study's abstract."
At that moment, in my bed, staring at my phone, shit changed for me. The cozy laughing and joking at the dinner parties about whether we could still hang out, whether I could still go to the gym, was no longer amusing. If this thing could stay in the air and on surfaces, it was impossible for my parents to protect themselves without a thorough separation from the world. I wrote a message asking them to please isolate themselves completely. My mother said she would consider it but later in the day, she went to a medical supply place twice, the bird store, the butcher, and the gas station. I threatened to send her some of the most terrifying articles I had read if she did not self-quarantine.
My calm evaporated. My plans for a healthy time at home also evaporated. I realized that I hadn't bought any junk food at all. I planned to arrive at Trader Joe's when it opened. Everyone else at the same strategy. By the time I arrived at 8:10, I had taken one of the last carts. I walked around throwing frozen food and shelf-stable supplies into my cart as though I were one of those people in a game show who has to sprint through the store and pile everything in. The checkout lines stretched halfway back through the store.
After reading and reading and reading, I decided that I would commit to social distancing. On Saturday, I spent a peaceful day by myself. Today, Sunday, I realized that I need to self-quarantine.
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