Yes, we have been home together, staying put, for 18 days already. I don't love the term "coronacation," a little flip, but it fits, I suppose. Though it doesn't feel at all like a vacation. We've been home almost the whole time. There have been several trips to the barn with social distancing equestrian style (far from each other on horses), 1 trip to the pharmacy for prescriptions, 1 trip to the grocery store in those days, 1 appointment to get my CPAP machine for my snoring. So, I guess, we could have been exposed on those days, but we try to take all the recommended precautions. I'll even be making masks this week, using hair ties instead of ribbon or elastic because that's what I have. Essentially the experts are saying now's the time to wear masks out; they aren't as good as N95s, but they are better than nothing. Good thing I have a machine and a sewing machine.
Otherwise, we're back to work: Mama is mainly upstairs at her desk taking meetings and doing work; the kids were in their rooms during their work and then came down for lunch, and I have been on the couch finishing a paper, engaging in my online classroom, and texting friends. Sometimes, we all share lunch, or a couple of us do. We watch a show, play "Animal Crossing" on Switch, do our Tai Chi, go for a walk around the block, crochet, Zentangle, dance, whatever we need. Today, it's "Nurse Jackie" and blogging. Same thing in the evenings, after dinner at the dining room table. Mama has been making great meals.
The up-side to this schedule is that we're all getting a little more sleep, not getting up at 6 a.m. I like it. But I'm slower in the mornings, drinking an iced coffee, socializing virtually, while everyone is working. I need that down time. It's almost quiet and alone.
And next week is my spring break, officially reading days at the seminary. So I hope to relax a little bit more.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Sunday, March 29, 2020
Sympathetic Weather
I love thunder. And rain. And lightning, if I'm inside at home. And the dark, dark clouds that signal a big storm (but not the green ones that mean a tornado.) It reminds me of storms in Texas, though never quite as big or as strong. It's raining today in CT, a heavy, warmer spring rain that helps the just blooming hyacinths and daffodils. The snowdrop flowers are gone, just the green tuffs remain. And we're starting to see buds on trees, that pinkish or light yellow-green halo on trees and bushes. Today, though, my view is speckled by drops on the window screens. And I'm happy to be inside.
Of course, we've been inside for 16 days already, with only one big trip to the store a week ago. sis still goes to the barn, but it's private and horses can't catch the virus. There are only a couple of people there and they are distancing in yards not feet. Otherwise, we've stuck to the house and the yard. We chalked our walk in the first week, writing messages to neighbors. Perhaps when the rain disperses I'll do it again. I've also thought of drawing a labyrinth.
I've been thinking of articles I've read predicting 100K Americans dying and the ethical triage decisions that will need to be made. As someone almost 50, I'm right on the cusp of not being at the top of the priority list, compared to the younger people who we thought wouldn't get this. But they are; apparently, an infant has died. While, under regular circumstances, I would not be ready to die, I recognize the utilitarian need for objective decisions on this, though I imagine it would leave my loved ones angry, especially because the main reason we find ourselves in this particular situation is because #45 dismissed the departments that oversee pandemics set up by President Obama and because #45 has shown himself to be such an unethical, immoral, greedy, vain, arrogant person in charge (he is NOT a leader.) To pit states against one another in vying for PPE, to abandon NYC without more ventilators because they are a Democratic stronghold, to pander to his base by suggesting an Easter celebration complete with an open economy . . . there really are no words. I would haunt him and his followers if I die because of such greed; I have no desire to be a martyr for the fucking economy. But, still, if the choice is between me and a younger person, well . . . I would want someone to make that sacrifice for my teens, if they were to become ill.
For now, no one is ill in my extended family and these are purely hypothetical questions. But they aren't hypothetical in the larger world. And it's going to get much worse before it gets better here in the U.S. Which is why it feels very surreal that I'm sitting here watching my kids play the new Animal Crossing New Horizons game with all this going on. It's such a passive, privileged reaction to crisis. And I know how lucky we are, with the ability for all of us to be home, with resources to make it for the duration, with health insurance, a supportive community. I mean, we can pay for others to risk buying our groceries! (Though, Instacart workers are apparently going on strike tomorrow and I will not cross a picket line, even a virtual one.) Is it ethical to do that? When push comes to shove, do I care or do I put my immediate family's health first? I think the answer makes me uncomfortable.
As does the realization that I am relieved in many ways not to be chaplaining right now. I don't feel altruistic; I'm not sure how much I would want to risk my family. And, as I recently wrote in my paper for my Theologies of Chaplaincy class, I'm somewhat ashamed of this response. Which is perhaps why I'm publicizing it here, as a way of self-flagellating. I don't know. But if I were already a chaplain, at a hospital, I think I would be committed. As a volunteer, though, I have an out. Why the difference? Loyalty? Duty? Shame? It bears more consideration.
I guess my reflections here today are as gray as the weather. I don't feel down, more than is called for in this situation; sometimes, I feel the gravity of the situation necessitates a parallel seriousness of thought.
But my family calls me back and so I'm going to play on Animal Crossing, too.
Of course, we've been inside for 16 days already, with only one big trip to the store a week ago. sis still goes to the barn, but it's private and horses can't catch the virus. There are only a couple of people there and they are distancing in yards not feet. Otherwise, we've stuck to the house and the yard. We chalked our walk in the first week, writing messages to neighbors. Perhaps when the rain disperses I'll do it again. I've also thought of drawing a labyrinth.
I've been thinking of articles I've read predicting 100K Americans dying and the ethical triage decisions that will need to be made. As someone almost 50, I'm right on the cusp of not being at the top of the priority list, compared to the younger people who we thought wouldn't get this. But they are; apparently, an infant has died. While, under regular circumstances, I would not be ready to die, I recognize the utilitarian need for objective decisions on this, though I imagine it would leave my loved ones angry, especially because the main reason we find ourselves in this particular situation is because #45 dismissed the departments that oversee pandemics set up by President Obama and because #45 has shown himself to be such an unethical, immoral, greedy, vain, arrogant person in charge (he is NOT a leader.) To pit states against one another in vying for PPE, to abandon NYC without more ventilators because they are a Democratic stronghold, to pander to his base by suggesting an Easter celebration complete with an open economy . . . there really are no words. I would haunt him and his followers if I die because of such greed; I have no desire to be a martyr for the fucking economy. But, still, if the choice is between me and a younger person, well . . . I would want someone to make that sacrifice for my teens, if they were to become ill.
For now, no one is ill in my extended family and these are purely hypothetical questions. But they aren't hypothetical in the larger world. And it's going to get much worse before it gets better here in the U.S. Which is why it feels very surreal that I'm sitting here watching my kids play the new Animal Crossing New Horizons game with all this going on. It's such a passive, privileged reaction to crisis. And I know how lucky we are, with the ability for all of us to be home, with resources to make it for the duration, with health insurance, a supportive community. I mean, we can pay for others to risk buying our groceries! (Though, Instacart workers are apparently going on strike tomorrow and I will not cross a picket line, even a virtual one.) Is it ethical to do that? When push comes to shove, do I care or do I put my immediate family's health first? I think the answer makes me uncomfortable.
As does the realization that I am relieved in many ways not to be chaplaining right now. I don't feel altruistic; I'm not sure how much I would want to risk my family. And, as I recently wrote in my paper for my Theologies of Chaplaincy class, I'm somewhat ashamed of this response. Which is perhaps why I'm publicizing it here, as a way of self-flagellating. I don't know. But if I were already a chaplain, at a hospital, I think I would be committed. As a volunteer, though, I have an out. Why the difference? Loyalty? Duty? Shame? It bears more consideration.
I guess my reflections here today are as gray as the weather. I don't feel down, more than is called for in this situation; sometimes, I feel the gravity of the situation necessitates a parallel seriousness of thought.
But my family calls me back and so I'm going to play on Animal Crossing, too.
Monday, March 23, 2020
It's Day 2
It's the beginning of Day 2, though I was up hours ago. Not sure why.
Checked in with friends online. Did my first round of school work; an online video needs to be fixed and so I'm stalled for a bit.
So, I'm thinking. We do most of our schoolwork and office work during the day, and then share dinner and the evening together. The kids and Mama have a new videogame--Animal Crossing New Horizons, I think--which is very absorbing for them. I've been crocheting.
But I'm trying to think of things we like to do as a family that we can also do when we have screen fatigue (yes, it does occasionally happen.)
Checked in with friends online. Did my first round of school work; an online video needs to be fixed and so I'm stalled for a bit.
So, I'm thinking. We do most of our schoolwork and office work during the day, and then share dinner and the evening together. The kids and Mama have a new videogame--Animal Crossing New Horizons, I think--which is very absorbing for them. I've been crocheting.
But I'm trying to think of things we like to do as a family that we can also do when we have screen fatigue (yes, it does occasionally happen.)
- foosball--yes, we have a foosball table on our front porch, of all places
- ping pong--we have a kit that can temporarily transform our dining room table
- we already did chalk the walk, but I might keep that up
- scootering and bikes
- some gardening when the time comes
- (yes, they have more chores these days, but that's no fun.)
- Dungeons and Dragons (we're mid-campaign and haven't gotten back to it.)
- games--okay, I don't like games, but I'll put this here anyway
- cooking and baking
- origami and other crafts
- look at old photo albums
And for myself, when they're playing videogames:
Ok, it's a start.
- crocheting
- Zentangling
- embroidery--finish WIP
- watercolor book
- backyard birdwatching
- Nature journalling online class
- Radical compassion online class
- Raptor Identification online class (yes, I like online classes; I'm halfway through most of these and then the semester started)
- if I'm really out of ideas: Backyard Feeder Birds Identification online class (which I am awful at; took it once and am still awful.)
Ok, it's a start.
Sunday, March 22, 2020
Pandemic Diary: Day 1
So, the day 1 doesn't indicate the first day of the virus in my state or the first day of our social distancing; more, it means the first day that I'm blogging about it. I haven't blogged in a few months--busy with the new term for me. I'm carrying 12 hours this term, though three of those were completed during an intensive. Also busy because Sis dislocated her knee cap in January and there were lots of days of physical therapy and rides and pick ups for school.
Now it's March, almost April. Mama has been working at home for weeks. My school went online. Both of the kids have been at home and distance learning for a week. We're pretty much on lockdown, well, social-distancing, because of so many cases in the area. We've been to the grocery store--we have enough toilet paper, which is a joke that has become tiresome. Sis and Mama go to the barn to see Patience, the horse, but, otherwise, we're staying pretty isolated.
And it's been ok. We spent the weekdays doing our work. The kids finish first, in less than a few hours, but Mama pretty much works all day. I'm somewhere in between. We wake up at separate times and don't coordinate breakfast or lunch. We have had dinner together every night. Later than usual, though, because we're staying up later. I'd say we're all getting more sleep.
The main disappointment--because we don't yet know anyone who is sick--is all the cancellations. Field trips, after-school clubs (Amnesty International, Yearbook, vet practice), an orchestra trip to DC, dance competitions, dance and kung fu classes, orchestra concert. Maybe (probably) our BTS concert on Memorial Day weekend. And then there are all the camps that probably won't happen, including Bud's trip to LA for dance convention (for which he'd won a scholarship.) It's big. And a lot. But certainly, we're keeping that in perspective. We really that we are actually saving lives by staying home.
And we're trying to keep it interesting. We watched some of the streaming Met Opera La Boheme. We watched the Indigo Girls livestream concert. Bud and I took a yoga class online. He's got dance classes online. I've zoomed with my class and am part of a church social phone tree. I have watched various worship services online; tomorrow I hope to participate in a meditation session. We chalked our walk yesterday to send positive messages to all the people walking around. And, yes, there are more of them. Mama and the kids rode bikes and scooters. I've texted, called, emailed, and direct messaged several friends and many people I only run into casually; it's been nice to catch up. We're all mostly ok. And we're sharing ideas.
My school. First, the hardest part was when the administration had to send the international students home with little warning. Yes, my classmate and friend--let's call her Bleu after her favorite color--was sent home. We had so many plans for the rest of the term; she was even coming for a full Easter weekend celebration--with decorating eggs and baskets, a big meal, meeting our horse, sightseeing locally. And instead I raced up to Hartford to spend a few hours before she had to leave. It was sad. She did get home safely though. But, because hers was a one-year program, she won't be back.
I try not to let me thoughts race ahead of me. I have pretty well managed to squelch worries about the virus--catching it, being very ill, my family being ill, someone dying. We're doing everything we can. Bigger worries about the economy, the election, the kids' education, the "new normal"--I keep up with the news just enough and try to stay informed but not overwhelmed or too anxious. One day at a time.
Still, the what-ifs are horrifying, both internationally and more locally. And I do believe, at least here, that the worst is yet to come. So many people are ignoring stay-put requests and not social distancing. There are going to be so many infections and it's spreading between people before they even know they are sick. The US will be more like Italy than like China in keeping it under control. So, where is the patriotism? Wouldn't the saving of Americans and helping to return us to a functioning society and economy as soon as possible be the most patriotic act? Civic responsibility. I just don't understand it. The White House occupant and that news channel don't help, but that can't be the only reason people aren't taking this more seriously, can it? Lack of respect for science? American exceptionalism? Individualism? Suspicious of authority and experts and "academic elites?" I just can't fathom it.
In my Theologies of Chaplaincy class, we've been discussing the nature of suffering, theologies surrounding the meaning of suffering, responses to suffering. Sure, compassion and helping others. But, how do you, as a chaplain, help doctors decide whom to treat and save? How do you bring spiritual issues to bear on that? How do you help all the frontline and essential workers not suffer or experience moral injury through the choices they're forced to make? Dr. Goo is on the frontline at the hospital; my sister is a nurse at another. My brother-in-law manages a grocery department and has been very busy. They are all overwhelmed, exhausted, and know it will get worse before it gets better. How do I support them?
I'm not going into hospice right now because volunteers have been banned. But what if I were already a paid chaplain, I'd be on the frontline, too. Could I handle that? Isn't that what I'm called to do, not just when it is easy and safe, but when I am most needed? I think of people dying without loved ones around in Italy and China and elsewhere . . . and it's here, too. But I think I'm partially relieved that I can stay home and not take the chances, not see some of the suffering. And I'm ashamed of that somewhat. I haven't found how I can help, beyond just staying home.
Take care out there.
May we all be well.
Now it's March, almost April. Mama has been working at home for weeks. My school went online. Both of the kids have been at home and distance learning for a week. We're pretty much on lockdown, well, social-distancing, because of so many cases in the area. We've been to the grocery store--we have enough toilet paper, which is a joke that has become tiresome. Sis and Mama go to the barn to see Patience, the horse, but, otherwise, we're staying pretty isolated.
And it's been ok. We spent the weekdays doing our work. The kids finish first, in less than a few hours, but Mama pretty much works all day. I'm somewhere in between. We wake up at separate times and don't coordinate breakfast or lunch. We have had dinner together every night. Later than usual, though, because we're staying up later. I'd say we're all getting more sleep.
The main disappointment--because we don't yet know anyone who is sick--is all the cancellations. Field trips, after-school clubs (Amnesty International, Yearbook, vet practice), an orchestra trip to DC, dance competitions, dance and kung fu classes, orchestra concert. Maybe (probably) our BTS concert on Memorial Day weekend. And then there are all the camps that probably won't happen, including Bud's trip to LA for dance convention (for which he'd won a scholarship.) It's big. And a lot. But certainly, we're keeping that in perspective. We really that we are actually saving lives by staying home.
And we're trying to keep it interesting. We watched some of the streaming Met Opera La Boheme. We watched the Indigo Girls livestream concert. Bud and I took a yoga class online. He's got dance classes online. I've zoomed with my class and am part of a church social phone tree. I have watched various worship services online; tomorrow I hope to participate in a meditation session. We chalked our walk yesterday to send positive messages to all the people walking around. And, yes, there are more of them. Mama and the kids rode bikes and scooters. I've texted, called, emailed, and direct messaged several friends and many people I only run into casually; it's been nice to catch up. We're all mostly ok. And we're sharing ideas.
My school. First, the hardest part was when the administration had to send the international students home with little warning. Yes, my classmate and friend--let's call her Bleu after her favorite color--was sent home. We had so many plans for the rest of the term; she was even coming for a full Easter weekend celebration--with decorating eggs and baskets, a big meal, meeting our horse, sightseeing locally. And instead I raced up to Hartford to spend a few hours before she had to leave. It was sad. She did get home safely though. But, because hers was a one-year program, she won't be back.
I try not to let me thoughts race ahead of me. I have pretty well managed to squelch worries about the virus--catching it, being very ill, my family being ill, someone dying. We're doing everything we can. Bigger worries about the economy, the election, the kids' education, the "new normal"--I keep up with the news just enough and try to stay informed but not overwhelmed or too anxious. One day at a time.
Still, the what-ifs are horrifying, both internationally and more locally. And I do believe, at least here, that the worst is yet to come. So many people are ignoring stay-put requests and not social distancing. There are going to be so many infections and it's spreading between people before they even know they are sick. The US will be more like Italy than like China in keeping it under control. So, where is the patriotism? Wouldn't the saving of Americans and helping to return us to a functioning society and economy as soon as possible be the most patriotic act? Civic responsibility. I just don't understand it. The White House occupant and that news channel don't help, but that can't be the only reason people aren't taking this more seriously, can it? Lack of respect for science? American exceptionalism? Individualism? Suspicious of authority and experts and "academic elites?" I just can't fathom it.
In my Theologies of Chaplaincy class, we've been discussing the nature of suffering, theologies surrounding the meaning of suffering, responses to suffering. Sure, compassion and helping others. But, how do you, as a chaplain, help doctors decide whom to treat and save? How do you bring spiritual issues to bear on that? How do you help all the frontline and essential workers not suffer or experience moral injury through the choices they're forced to make? Dr. Goo is on the frontline at the hospital; my sister is a nurse at another. My brother-in-law manages a grocery department and has been very busy. They are all overwhelmed, exhausted, and know it will get worse before it gets better. How do I support them?
I'm not going into hospice right now because volunteers have been banned. But what if I were already a paid chaplain, I'd be on the frontline, too. Could I handle that? Isn't that what I'm called to do, not just when it is easy and safe, but when I am most needed? I think of people dying without loved ones around in Italy and China and elsewhere . . . and it's here, too. But I think I'm partially relieved that I can stay home and not take the chances, not see some of the suffering. And I'm ashamed of that somewhat. I haven't found how I can help, beyond just staying home.
Take care out there.
May we all be well.
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