Pandemic Narrative, Part 5

And the world continues to burn.

Minnesota, as of the last update I heard, has 986 cases of COVID-19 confirmed (sure to top 1,000 by tomorrow), with thirty deaths. Worldwide, the number of infected has surpassed one million. Nationwide unemployment is approaching numbers rarely seen in our country’s history. Minnesota is still on a shelter-in-place quarantine until the end of this week, though I’m pretty confident that date will be extended since we could be weeks away from our peak numbers. The governor’s reason for the quarantine was to slow the spread enough so the ICU beds wouldn’t all be used at once, and so far that seems to be working. As of today, schools are still scheduled to resume classes in early May, though the governor said during a recent press conference that there’s only a slim chance students and staff will be returning to their buildings to finish out the academic year. State governments are in competition to acquire necessary medical equipment while the federal government and the bumbling collection of arrogant morons that lead it seem to be actively searching for ways to make the situation worse than it already is. From a perspective, that should almost be a comfort, knowing that some things haven’t changed much — even if it was one of the worst problems we had to deal with during Before Pandemic (B.P.) life.

I haven’t started my car in a week. I feel like maybe I should, just to drive it around the neighborhood a few miles and make sure I remember how to do it. The few encounters I’ve had with people in recent weeks have all been either been through social media, video conferencing for school, texting, email, and occasionally moving to the other side of the road while out walking the dog if another person is coming from the opposite direction. Because of that, it makes it difficult to complain about boredom, even if there are moments when the boredom is almost a tangible presence. I’m good at this, though; I’ve mentioned several times how my personality is off-the-charts introverted, so being alone gives me lots of time to recharge. Most of the time I feel pretty good. There are moments though, when the isolation carves into me and the gravity of the situation comes at me from an unexpected angle that brings back how real everything is. I’m very aware of my privilege these days, having a secure job I’m able to still do, and a home where I can keep myself safe. I know there are all kinds of online memes of encouragement and self-protection out there now reminding people how their feelings are as valid and and legitimate as anyone else’s, but it’s hard for me to take any of those ideas seriously when I know there are so many people who are far, far worse off throughout this than I am. Again, to the best of my knowledge, I’m not sick nor is anyone I personally know infected yet. I pray that remains the case for as long as possible, and I offer my thanks for things to be going well for me, most of the time. Sometimes though, when everything becomes real and you feel like you’re the only person left on Earth, it’s just easier to allow yourself to lie back and bathe in the darkness for a while, especially if you know it’s probably going to go away.

This was the first week of distance learning. Now, the thing is, I used to be the technology lead in my school, back in the days when that meant going to meetings a few times a year and occasionally making updates to the school website when the principal wanted to post something. All of this remote teaching has put me on a very steep learning curve. The first day 

The first week of distance learning went okay. It was a little rocky and busy at the start, but now after a week in recognizable and predictable patterns in the day are beginning to build. I have a pretty good idea when completed assignments will start showing up for my approval. I know which kids are going to post or email questions for me, and where I’m going to find them, and what types of questions they’ll ask. Distance learning, in general, has been an easy adjustment so far, but depending on the day the experience can be anything from exhausting do unspeakably dull.

The biggest news story of the day, which I suppose will make it a fairly solid milestone in whatever timeline will eventually define the pandemic for us, was that the British Prime Minister Boris Johnson is now in Intensive Care. I honestly don’t know what the percentages of survival are for any hospitalized patients who advance to that measure of illness, but it’s clearly serious. I don’t know if people get more anxious about seeing a well-known public figure like him getting sick, or any of the other differing degrees of fame that have been affected as well, because they’re worried about our celebrities. I think people like him getting sick stand to drive home the point of how all of us are vulnerable right now.

Times are not good, and they don’t look to be improving any time soon.