If you are reading this blog at some random point in the future, know that the Covid-19 pandemic caught nearly everyone by surprise. Nobody felt like we were living through a momentous event until it was well underway. And, as cliche' as it sounds, it was already too late.
By this time, rumors about the disease have survived long enough to become some facsimile of fact. I am washing my hands regularly, trying to stay two meters from anyone else, and limiting my trips outside the house. I am lucky enough to be working my accounting position with the Credit Union from home. Not a vacation, yet feels entirely different. But yesterday I left the house on one long trip:
- driving across Nine Mile Road to pick up a birthday cake for my son's 20th birthday
- driving west along Nine Mile Road to pick up a pair of glasses ordered weeks ago
- driving further west to the Corporate Office to grab a computer monitor for teleworking
- driving back east on Nine Mile Road to pick up sodas and oatmeal and shampoo
- driving back even more on Nine Mile Road to grab a last minute birthday present
- driving across that parking lot to pick up a family's worth of Chinese takeout for dinner
- driving back across Nine Mile Road to return home
The proprietors at some locations like the optometrist office or the Chinese restaurant had arranged the business to allow completion of my transaction without close contact to any human.
At the two supermarkets, despite my best efforts, people usually began lining in xtremely close, crowding together in the aisles. The staff at the two locations (which I'm not naming) were as conscientious as they could be, but they cannot force the shoppers to adhere to that same level of caution. Taped lines on the floor marked the recommended social distancing margin when approaching the cashier but people would walk between waiting patrons. And that doesn't include the patrons that aren't even trying to stay away, in one case bringing the whole family including their four kids to just saunter around without a worry.
I worry. I have a heart condition, although I am not taking any of the medications that increase my danger of a severe bout of the disease. Coincidentially, I am taking medication that greatly increases the likelihood of death if given hydroxychloroquine, so I guess no "miracle" drug for me. Nonetheless I cannot stop going out altogether.
Like I said earlier, the rumors have lived long enough to coalesce into an ersatz truth, and so now everybody knows that you lose your sense of smell and develop a cough three to five days after catching the virus. A fever will arrive two or three days after that and then the fight really begins. So every time I leave the house and face the outside world, I start the countdown all over again.
This evening, I made three stops:
- drove to the gas station on my block to get gas
- drove west down Nine Mile Road to withdraw $600 at the ATM
- walked across the parking lot to deposit cash at a different ATM
- walked back to my car and drove directly home
None of these stops involved interacting with potential vectors, but I had to touch pumps and buttons and screens that had certainly been touched by others. So the first step upon arriving home was washing my hands with soap and hot water.
Long ago I learned that intelligence agencies have mathematic models that determine how many people will learn a secret within a given amount of time, based on the chance of the clandestine information either being gleaned through research or being delivered interpersonally. For this reason, I have always been reticent to share information, seeing each time I divulge private information as the first link in a path where that information reaches the wrong destination. I was frightened of accidentially giving away too much when waiting for my episode of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" to air, causing the producers of the show to void my winnings. Thankfully my wife was my co-conspirator so I did not have to withhold any portion of my escapade from her, which honestly would have been impossible.
I now think about the spread of coronavirus in a similar manner. Every surface I touch, every person I approach, every journey out for groceries or gas presents another chance to link my web of interactions with the web of a contagious individual.
It feels like it is only a matter of time. The game is to push the inevitable far enough into the future to when scientists develop efficacious treatments or even a vaccine prior to that fateful conjunction.
Because my life, much like history, is a confused jumble of happenstance at this moment but will undoubtably appear fated when viewed retrospectively.
