COVID-19 Diary - Wall

I woke up angry this morning.

I received some bad news yesterday. As I wrote a couple of days ago, I'm one of the lucky ones - I still have a job.

But.

I'm taking a pay cut. It's a pay cut that creates a frustrating and, frankly, insulting situation.

But.

I learned today that the largest employer in our little town laid off most of its workforce. As the Rising Star Casino wrote in the letter to its unlucky employees, should the casino reopen, the employees will be able to reapply for a position.

Ah, perspective.

I lost a good job in the economic crash of 2009. I was without work until March of 2012. It was a hard time for our family.  We lost a house, a car and eventually, a marriage.

I have never regained the salary level I lost in 2009.

My heart goes out to the people who have lost their jobs as a result of this crisis. Unlike 2009 when it felt like I was watching one friend after another slide over the edge from employment to unemployment, this crisis showed us what it would feel like to slam into a wall.

Hard.

This kind of thing is traumatizing. Trust me on this. These people, like so many others, have lost their jobs through no fault of their own. None. We didn't see this coming.

I fear that harder times are coming. Please be kind to each other. Watch what you say and what you post on social media about jobs, the social safety net, people in need (they don't need you to broadcast your generosity if you help them out), healthcare, unemployment benefits (no one wants to be on unemployment), who works hard and who doesn't, who is deserving and who isn't.

You might think you're being funny, insightful, or clever, but take it from me - that stuff hurts. It's pointless pain. Keep your opinions to yourself because no one needs your shame right now.

When I was out of work, the economy was so bad that the Administration had to keep begging Congress to extend unemployment benefits. Every quarter was a nightmare while I fretted that my benefits would end and there was no job in sight.

One day I was scrolling through Facebook, having taken a break from trolling all the job posting websites, and I saw someone I'd grown up with posting about how all the lazy people who wanted more unemployment money should "just get a job."

I'd spent hours every day looking for a job. I'd applied for hundreds of jobs sometimes having to complete applications requiring so much detail that it took over an hour to complete.  In all that time, after all those applications, I had two interviews. One place didn't hire me, but the other did.

At half my 2009 salary and a much longer commute.

And I felt lucky to have a job.

I'm telling you this so you don't hurt someone with your words.

Sermon over.

Stay home if you can. Tell someone you love them. Make a plan for hard times. Wash your hands. Remember the Golden Rule.

COVID-19 Diary - Life During Wartime

We're all thinking about and talking about the Coronavirus. We can't help it.

On top of the worry about the virus, we're watching our economy come apart at the seams as people are forced to stay home and not work. Restaurants and bars are closed or are only serving food via delivery and carry out. Many states have banned large gatherings. Houses of worship are closed. Shows and concerts are canceled. Tradeshows, conventions, and conferences aren't happening. Schools are shuttered. Colleges and universities are closed for the year. People are told to not travel. Most stores are closed. Casinos across the country have shut down. College and professional sports seasons aren't happening or are postponed.

March Madness did not happen. The 2020 Summer Olympics have been postponed until 2021.

These are hard times.

I'm one of the lucky ones. I still have my full-time job and continue to work from home the same as I have since 2014. Our entire staff team is now working from home which requires some adjustment for those who are used to working in the office at least three days a week.

To combat that isolation some are feeling, we're doing creative things like having a virtual happy hour every Thursday. We all log in to Skype for Business, fire up our webcams and cut loose. I mean, cut loose as much as one should in a work environment. We're a pretty careful bunch.

From many conversations, I'm learning that I am not alone in what I thought were my weird and over-the-top concerns and newly-acquired habits.

We wonder how to handle the mail deliveries. Spray it with Lysol? Let it sit for 24 hours before handling?

We have detailed conversations about how long this sticky virus lasts on surfaces. We Google for answers.

We tell tales of madness involving bags full of takeout food, what amounts to a decontamination procedure with clean dishes, hand sanitizer, and a group effort to not bring potentially virus spreading Burger King bags into one's home.

The dirty hands/clean hands swap.

We whisper about wearing latex gloves in public.

The pushing of Clorox wipes onto loved ones and strangers.

A dog who got a bath because a neighbor petted it right after returning from a trip.

It's only been two weeks.

On the flip side, this struggle is also showing us some extraordinary acts of kindness. People are pulling together while keeping their physical distance. Social media is full of stories about people pitching in, helping out, and doing good.

I had my own taste of that last night when I walked into my parents' house to find that they were Facetiming with all three of my children. My kids never had the chance to live near their grandparents so this was especially touching.

My dad marveled at the fact that they were right there - dialed in from New Hampshire, Georgia, and from across Highway 56. Mom and Dad can see the roof of Nate's house from their front windows, a fact that still rocks me back in wonder. Who would have ever guessed that would happen?

My grandson Samson gained control of his mom's phone at one point. He displayed his new phrase "night night." Chloe turned into a frog, a mouse, a giraffe, a monkey, a rabbit, and a chicken.

"And she's the educated one," Dad said.

Yep.

Be well. Stay home if you can and especially if you're sick. Wash your hands. Tell someone you love them.

COVID-19 Diary - Physical Distancing

I saw somewhere - Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? - that perhaps we should call what we're doing physical distancing instead of social distancing. 

I like this. 

I like this because what I'm seeing on social media tells me that we're finding ways to remain social while practicing the physical distance to slow the spread of the Coronavirus. And much of that social interaction is positive. People are sharing links to free online access to the arts. Music. Museums. Books. People are sharing original content, photos, ideas for keeping busy, recipes, etc.

This is a refreshing break from seeing the same meme shared 28 times in a day.

Like the canals in Venice clearing, because the sediment has settled, and the Nitrogen levels over China decreasing, we're adjusting, too. Even if it's in small ways.

Over the last few days, I've talked on the phone more than usual. I've Facetimed with my friend Amy. I video-chatted with my daughter Chloe who is in New Hampshire. And Sophie who is in Georgia. I talked to Grandma Bea. I've talked to my sister. I've talked to my mother who relays my strongly-worded admonishments to my father, as necessary. (Still struggling!)

Everyone is well, but worried. You can just hear it in their voices. 

All this communicating. Talk about having to change habits.

Chloe had a puzzle delivered from Amazon. I dropped it off at Mom and Dad's today so they can stay occupied while they're stuck in the house. I stood across the room from them and tried to touch nothing as we talked about what's happening and how they're feeling.

They have concerns. Like most of us, they're trying to grasp just how long this time of physical distancing will last. I've worked from home for over five years. There have been times when I had to think really hard to remember the last time I'd left the house, apart from walking the dog. I'm good at this. 

But for most people who are used to being able to decide at the spur of the minute to go out to dinner or who remember what day of the week it is because of their weekly scheduled hair appointment, doctor's visit, or lunch with old friends, this is hard. This is habit changing. It's confusing. And, by extension, scary.

At the other end of the age spectrum, we're also trying to stay physically distant from Nathan, his wife Kade, and their one-year-old son Samson. We're taking the stance that the fewer contacts we have, the better. It also means I have fewer names to write on my list of daily contacts. I wasn't kidding in my last post. I'm keeping a list. It might be an Excel spreadsheet. I will neither confirm nor deny.

Because we're being extra careful, this means I can't get my hands on Sam. It's hard. I want nothing more right now than to have his soft cheek smooshed against mine. Instead, I have to settle for seeing him through a window. I'll take it.

Be well. Stay at home as much as you can. Wash your hands. Let's fight this thing.

COVID-19 Diary - Taking Names and Buying Snacks

Day two of keeping track in a small way of what's happening as the United States' number of confirmed cases of COVID-19 begin a steep climb.

Here in our little corner of southeastern Indiana, we remain fairly isolated from the virus, but it feels like it's closing in.

Ohio County where Rising Sun is the county seat and sits along the Ohio River is the little red blob.

You can see how the counties with confirmed cases of the virus are beginning to surround us.

It's enough to make me want to lock everyone up in their houses to hunker down and hope that this scourge passes us by. A Rising Sun Passover, if you will.

Alas, and as I'm frequently reminded, I am not the boss of anything. Don't believe me? Check out any Adventures in Real Parenting post on this blog. You'll see.

My husband isn't even under my jurisdiction at this time. He's off to the University of Cincinnati Hospital every weekday for his job. He's not a healthcare worker, but he's there working and watching the triage tents go up and get busy.

This morning, I broke my own rule to venture out for provisions. I took my ration book aka my Discover Card (cash back!) and made a run to a local IGA for donuts and then braced myself for a trek through the belly of the beast - Krogers on Eads Parkway.

Sidenote - I would love to shop at our local IGA for all our groceries, but would need an increase on my credit card limit to keep us well-stocked in Mello Yello. That, however, is a post for another day.

Kroger can't keep up. The shelves and refrigerated cases still looked like the day before a blizzard is predicted to hit. I asked one woman stocking shelves how she was doing and she said she was glad she liked her job and noted she didn't mind the job security. I credited her for having a great outlook and wished her well. This exchange took place as we stood several feet apart.

I found myself holding my breath as I walked past other shoppers. I had a ziplock of Clorox wipes I used to wipe down the shopping cart and ran it over my hands every time I touched something. I had to remind myself to stop picking up packages of strawberries to look for the best one. Oh, and not touching my face? An ongoing struggle.

I ran into people from Rising Sun. No hugs, no pats on the arm. We practiced our careful physical distancing as we chatted. Everyone reported the same thing - all is well so far and yes, we're all worried about our parents who are trying to adjust to this new "normal."

I stopped at my parents on my way home to share some donuts with them. Guess who had already been out that morning to buy a newspaper? No, I didn't shout at him and I even let him have the one jelly donut I'd gotten. We had a rousing discussion about washing our hands, I bagged up some Clorox wipes in a ziplock for him to keep in his car (I know when I've been defeated) and then he mentioned they'd have to go to Walmart for some groceries soon.

What a joker.

They'll be handing over that detailed grocery list to me and I'll go. At least we settled that. Wish me luck that I don't choose the wrong brand of orange juice.

Last night before we fell asleep, my husband and I talked about how things have changed so swiftly. It's like the world is upended. I wondered aloud if it made sense for people to start keeping a list of where they've been and when and who they've had close-ish contact with.

David wasn't sure. Or maybe he was already asleep. His response sounded something like mmmmmm or hmmmmmm? I have never known anyone in my life who can fall asleep as quickly as that man does. But that's a post for another day, too.

Be well. Stay home. Wash your hands.

COVID-19 Diary - We're Not Having Any Fun

I yelled at my father today.

We live in a very small town and I have eyes (spies?) around town. My pals know I'm concerned about my father (83) and mother (81) because both of them have chronic conditions - heart disease, hypertension, and diabetes. Both are overweight. Full disclosure - so am I.

One of my pals mentioned she'd seen Dad out and about. I knew from conversations with my mother that it would be difficult for him to shelter in place during this time of COVID-19. I mean, he's a social guy. Rarely does a day go by that he doesn't go out tootling around town in his car, buying his lottery tickets, picking something up at the store, and driving by my house just for kicks.

But this is getting serious and I've asked him to stop going out just for kicks. I get it. It's tough. It's boring. It's isolating.

But Mom's health isn't great. She's had multiple heart attacks. Both of them caught every cold that passed this way over the winter. My kids and I still laugh at a mess of a Facebook Messenger video that included a wide shot up my mother's nose and both parents announcing that they were sick.

"We're sick here. We're not having any fun."

You don't say.

Today is their 60th wedding anniversary. I'm lucky to still have them. I'd like to keep them around to celebrate their 61st wedding anniversary.

"If you're out around people, you're bringing home germs and passing them on to Mom," I grumped at him.

"I'm going to do what I want."

"If she catches this thing, it's going to kill her. In Italy, doctors are having to choose who lives and who dies. They don't have enough medical equipment to care for everyone."

That got his attention.

Earlier, I'd watched a video of military trucks transporting bodies out of Northern Italy to somewhere else for burial and cremation. They are out of room for all the dead.

"If the hospital has 10 ventilators and 40 sick people who need them, what chance do you think and 81-year-old woman has?" It was a low blow. I'm desperate.

I rooted around in the closet for my extra hand sanitizer forgetting that I'd given it to my son and daughter-in-law a couple of weeks earlier.

"Wash your hands as soon as you get home," I bossed. "And stay home. I can get you whatever you need."

He left under a barrage of my nagging and a wish for a happy anniversary.

"I nag because I love!" I shouted at his retreating back.

I think he knows. He might not like it, but he knows.