Just Breathe

I've seen a lot of directives to "take a breath" or "breathe through" this situation. People aren't wrong. A deep breath is therapeutic when someone is overwhelmed. That moment of pause. An opportunity to break a mind-induced panic with an interruption forced by the body.

However, it takes on an insidious double meaning for someone who is suffering from COVID-19. SARS (SARS-CoV[-1?]) was, after all, called the "breath taker" when it hit in 2003 (my source is This Podcast Will Kill You). Now, SARS-CoV-2 also goes to work on our lungs. The virus makes the act of breathing harder and harder, until it may become impossible. This is why ventilators have had such a central role in emergency planning.

In fact, the only item higher on our collective list is personal protective equipment (PPE) - with a special focus on face masks. Which brings me to the other side of this. Close contact with sick (and, it seems, infected but well) individuals means we may breathe in the virus and become a host to it. So breathing takes on a new sense of risk even as it literally keeps us alive.

Because of that, I've been trying to avoid and imperative language about breathing. Obviously, we are breathing. Until we're not.

Similarly, innocuous scenes on TV of people talking, touching, or playing are now disconcerting. I've tried to escape into media and feel pulled back into thoughts of social distancing and danger despite my best efforts.

I don't know the best way out of this. More sleep?

Not everything is COVID.. even when it feels like it.

I find that work, while filled with its attendant stresses and frustrations, helps me keep my peace of mind. My brain keeps occupied and I spend less time thinking about myself and my friends and family and all the things that could happen to us.

Still trying to find my place. There are so many non-productive places to spend my time. And it's not even non-productive perhaps, but counter-productive. I am okay with distraction and maybe even need it, but there are also the items that make me feel, act, and perform worse than the person I know I can be.

Seeking to be better.

Everything is COVID?

Have you noticed that the symptoms for this thing keep getting more varied? Heart attack, headache, diarrhea, back pain. In addition to the dry cough, fever, and trouble breathing.

Most likely we are hungover, stressed, tired. But we're not 100%. What is it? Not sure. Nothing is really usual. Our diet, our habits, our mental states.

My temperature is up a degree or two. Not high, but higher than last week's normal, by our one thermometer.

So easy to get paranoid. Or?
 

Scarcity

I am a person who can switch to a rationing/scarcity mindset at the drop of a hat.

This can be as mundane as: I have a bag of skittles. I really only like the green skittles, and there are some flavors (purple and orange) that I actively dislike. So I will actually eat the gross ones first and save the green ones for last. I will try to draw out the experience of the best skittles as long as possible, eating one at a time after all the others are gone. Why do I even eat the ones I don't like? I don't know. I honestly don't have a good answer.

So taking the extremely low stakes scarcity example above, you can begin to imagine what I am like now, at a time where I am seriously contemplating whether it is a good idea to go grocery shopping even once a week. I have a privilege where I can technically make ends meet for weeks with what we have.

My partner does not share my predilection. When I brought up a one pot of coffee per day maximum you would have thought I suggested we replace coffee with poop water. He is coming around though, and we are negotiating terms on a variety of supplies and activities.

In some ways, my brain has been validated by current events, and not in a good way. It is so tempting to hoard. I am trying to not buy like crazy, because that's not useful either. We take stock of soap, toilet paper, fruits and veggies, cat litter, pet food.

I'm trying to find ways to not feel like this. We have enough food to last a long time if we need to, although that would mean not having coffee everyday and relying on canned and frozen fruits and veggies rather than the fresh stuff.

I am also realizing that by opting out of grocery stores we may be helping those who don't have the resources to stockpile, and who need to venture out to get necessities. It's not that supplies aren't out there, it's that getting them stocked is posing a problem.

We are tempering this with a once weekly take out/delivery in our attempt to still support the businesses who are open and trying to find a new model for success.

Also, I've had alcohol every single day this week. lololol

*sigh* that's all.

A note from Facebook

Link to Source

Package Quarantine

We've started a package and mail quarantine process, mostly due to sheer paranoia. I've not gotten any guidance to do this, but it seemed prudent with all of the news about how long the virus can survive on cardboard, plastic, etc. I've also seen news stories about delivery personnel testing positive. Not sure what's real and what the risks are. I feel like I am going overboard and we definitely could use wipes to immediately clean everything... but that uses up wipes and why waste resources? I feel silly about my extra quarantine measures even as I put them into practice.

With that said, there is a lovely knock-on effect with this.

I see what we are receiving all packaged up: letters, boxes, etc. I get to feel "I got a present!" warm fuzzies. Dopamine and all that. Then, we put the new arrivals in the guest room and close the door.

Two days later, I step into the guest room and I get the warm fuzzies all over again. It feels like getting things twice! I actually forget in between that the items are there. Waiting to be unboxed, as it were. Pretty neat, actually.

Also, because we so rarely leave the house, we now get almost everything via mail and that means more items than usual are arriving. Everything is wonky so it all is truly a surprise.

For example: we ordered a ladder from Costco that we had been meaning to pick up (and is now $50 cheaper) and it arrived the next day. Meanwhile the food order I placed at the same time is now at least a week delayed.

Today I received a birthday card from my grandparents. I look forward to reading it in a few days!

Real work

It looks like I may transition partially, or even fully, into incident command communications for pandemic response. It's daunting, but there is something very appealing about being able to be a part of the work.

I'm not sure I'll be able to share much on that but there are some concerns I have with in-person meetings right now. We'll see.

Monday

Strange how a Monday can still feel like a quintessential Monday, even in the midst of all of this. Meetings and team dynamics - still the same frustrations.

Let's see if I have semantics right.

COVID-19 is a shortened version of 2019 novel COronaVIrus Disease and describes mainly the disease sweeping the world right now. I've also seen it used to describe the virus itself. (Capital letters to show how the acronym gets its form.)

If we want to be pedantic/correct, SARS-CoV-2 is another label the virus itself, although paradoxically it describes a syndrome within its name. Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome CoronaVirus 2. (Capital letters once again as exhibit.) Not to be confused with SARS-1, which is another coronavirus that made news in 2003.

So there's the small lesson for today.

Today we’re working to be good neighbors.

Small Update

I've been reminded that all of the consequences we will see in the near future reflect a time period before we took measures. We have to be patient and continue to do our part. 

Today I got to see many of my family members in a video chat that was chaotic but deeply reassuring. Some are sick, but nobody is currently in distress. 

I thought about comparing how I expected to spend my birthday with the reality. But right now that doesn't seem important.

I had a good day, and this weekend has been energizing. I hope I can harness some of this into the future. 

Draft Language for Podcast

I've thought a lot about what to say this month. At times like these, words fail us. I say times like these as if I have ever experienced something quite like the current pandemic. And I haven't.

I've written and rewritten what I want to say so many times in my head. I want to be hopeful, but I do not want to minimize the seriousness of our situation. I don't want to spread panic, or contribute to any confusion or misinformation out there. So I've decided this is not the place to tell people to stay home and wash their hands. Although, if you can, absolutely do.

Some of us may feel adrift, so far from normal that each day feels like a week. Things we knew to be true an hour ago may not be so certain now. Some of us are suddenly very busy, while others who find ourselves at home not sure how to fill our time. I feel that somehow I am in both those situations simultaneously.

Today is Saturday March 21st. It's my birthday, actually. I also found out that March 21st is World Poetry Day.


Alone, Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

 "Alone, Together" is a phrase that has been making the rounds recently. It is especially apparent to me now that we are connected. Our way into the future is as a community and I have already seen amazing ways that people have shown their ingenuity, their compassion, their humanity in the face of adversity. Even when we are physically alone, we are doing so out of a commitment to the common good. We are doing it together. We are not alone. You are not alone.

I want to share one more excerpt - this poem is for the helpers, the people who are not able to stay home.

I want to be with people who submerge

in the task, who go into the fields to harvest

and work in a row and pass the bags along,

who are not parlor generals and field deserters

but move in a common rhythm

when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil,

Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums

but you know they were made to be used.

The pitcher cries for water to carry

and a person for work that is real.

  -- Marge Piercy, To Be of Use

Big Fear, Small Joys

I wish I had the presence of mind to record my team at work this morning. They sang me happy birthday and it was dissonant, off-key, and with varying levels of latency on the line. It was glorious! I want to hold onto moments like those amongst the worry and fear and looming sense of dread.

I planted hyacinths in the backyard under our apple tree last fall. They are rising now, mostly in purple with pink and yellow only now peeking out. These are the moments of small joy. 

I don't want to give space to anything but joy here, right now.

My cousin in Seattle is presenting with symptoms. Fuck.

Mild Viral Infection

Open question: if coronavirus testing is at the discretion of your primary care provider, what do you do if you have not established care anywhere?

I'd love to hear advice on this, but I tentatively have some thoughts. Have insurance? Check online. Call them. Don't have insurance? Call federally qualified health centers. Also, now might be a good time to look into your potential Medicaid eligibility. In Oregon you can apply online. One thing I urge you, call before showing up to any healthcare facilities.

I established care on March 5th, which it turns out was just in time to have that connection in place for whatever happens next. That was sheer luck.

Because I had not seen a doctor in a long time, my DO suggested a comprehensive set of labs and I had blood drawn that same day. Everything came back normal, except for one thing. I quote my new doctor here: "The blood count came back and looks fine. There is a slight elevation in the lymphocytes which sometimes suggest a mild viral infection but nothing else concerning."

Hoo boy. It's not a great statement to mull over as this all unfolds. 

I've had a slight sore throat for the last few days (days in which I have strictly kept myself isolated, with the exception of my fiance who is trapped in here with me and our two pets). I also suffer from seasonal grass allergies this time of year, which in this environment adds gravity to every sniffle and sneeze.

There are a few moments of every day that I become convinced that I have COVID-19. And then I come to my senses and realize that I likely do not. The symptoms don't match up. I do not have a fever, or even a cough. But I don't fully understand the entire spectrum and perhaps it is wishful thinking that maybe this is it and this is as bad as it will get for me. It sounds delusional when put into words, I know. But I am trying to be honest here even when it's not flattering. The mind wanders into all sorts of places. 

Which is a roundabout way to say: I do not think I have it. But I am acting as if I do, out of an abundance of caution. I am considering all of my actions (and inaction) from a perspective that I could carry COVID-19 and that I could infect others if I do not act carefully. I am not distancing myself from my own household. That ship has sailed. But we are staying away from everyone else. 

Also, no - I am not pursuing testing or reaching out to my doctor at this time. I do not see the point and I strongly believe high priority and high risk people should take precedence. I only see this changing if my condition were to deteriorate rapidly.


So there's that.

Scope and Energy

New today: two deaths attributed postmortem to COVID-19 in Oregon. Our mortality count in this state is now three. Across the nation we've hit triple digit deaths, although I keep finding different numbers from different sources.

It is crazy how any news article more than a day old I am now almost immediately dismissing when it comes to numbers, rules/regulations/policies, and knowledge of the disease. Things are moving so fast and yet it feels so slow.

I am amazed how quickly my metaphorical field of vision has narrowed. At the beginning I was paying close attention to China, South Korea, then Italy. I checked in regularly on the Seattle situation. I see bits and pieces from friends and family - mostly via Facebook and with its attendant issues of misinformation, unverified opinion, and general chaos. There are the viral stories from far and wide, but for up-to-date and accurate info? It's hard to maintain the bandwidth needed to keep up. I am relying on the Oregon Health Authority updates most of all. I am hungry for more Portland area news specifically.

My father is an emergency physician in Sonoma County, so I am checking northern California news frequently. I am incredibly worried for my parents. My grandparents are there too, and much of my extended family. We're all over, and I don't even have the energy to keep informed about all the places my loved ones are right now.

I haven't left the house, other than to walk the dog, since Saturday. My world feels very small and constrained. And I am lucky to be here.

Cascade

It's happening slower than I had expected. Or maybe it isn't - every day feels like an entire week and news that dropped yesterday is already outdated and inadequate.

I know that the number of documented cases in the U.S. are an artifact of limited testing. Our tools and reporting criteria make the statistics we use to understand our world. They are always imperfect, especially with new situations. There is so much we don't know.

And yet, here come the confirmed (and presumptive) cases. Oregon now has multiple sources of data in the official reports, and things are moving faster. Schools are now closed until April 28th.

My flurry of cancellations is complete and I'm not sure what I will be doing at work tomorrow.

In order to feel productive I planted basil seeds today.


Here is something for after the storm, although I think most of us are not yet at the worst.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Laura Kelly Fanucci (@thismessygrace) on Mar 16, 2020 at 7:16am PDT

Back to Work

Our new abnormal felt especially so as our remote work tools failed us in the morning. It looks like we are stabilizing now, but it was a sobering preview of how easily things can break down. 

Just before 3 PM the governor announced all bars and restaurants will close for dine-in options, and gathering of 25 or more people will cease. Interestingly enough, this seems to have created a rush for final orders and visits. Coworkers and friends alike making plans to go out before it is too late. I'm not sure that is the best instinct, but we considered it seriously as well. 

I am still not sure how to best be an active part of the solution. I must content myself with being a passive part of the solution by working from home. It was very busy today, but that is mostly in scaling down and cancelling activities, which will only last for a few more days. I don't have a clear vision of the future. 

We've had two video calls with friends now, one on Friday and one tonight. There is something so comforting with seeing familiar faces, even if via screen. I already feel this way, and my future self is probably scoffing at this right now. 

I'm demonstrably an introvert, so this is telling. 

Oregon hovers just below 50 at 47 cases, one death as of today. Want more numbers?

I believe this is today, just slightly before Oregon's updated numbers went live.

 

Source: NPR

Pocket of Normalcy

The sun is out and spirits are cautiously up. It isn't because we have good news, but because I feel as prepared as I can expect to be right now. Something about the increasingly clear directive to stay home and flatten that curve is reassuring. Guidance is solidifying and there is an odd comfort in that. Yes, this is serious.

It helps that Sunday is a day we often spend around the house anyway: cleaning, cooking, walking the dog. Today nothing feels disrupted and I am aware very keenly that this is a privilege. So instead of anything deep, trenchant, and intelligent, I'll leave it at two photos.

Stay safe. Be well. Take care of one another.

March 14th, around 10 AM

March 15th, around 10 AM

A Quote

“Everything we do before a pandemic will seem alarmist. Everything we do after a pandemic will seem inadequate. This is the dilemma we face, but it should not stop us from doing what we can to prepare. We need to reach out to everyone with words that inform, but not inflame. We need to encourage everyone to prepare, but not panic.” — Michael O. Leavitt, 2007

Not to alarm, but to document

Oregon's first COVID-19 death was announced a few minutes ago. 

Hello

It is March 14th, and by no means the beginning of our COVID-19 experience. I am writing out of the Portland, Oregon area. Right now, it feels like we are living in an unforgettable time. And yet, I know that an undocumented day, week, or month so quickly disappears from memory. Details are so hard to hold onto. So here I am, putting into words some of my experience.

It's not that I am extraordinary. I'm very ordinary. If anything, my household has a lot going for us. We are two 30-somethings with no children. We own our house (although we've really only paid off interest so far) and we can work from home. We have plenty of food and -yes - toilet paper. We are fairly healthy.

I wanted to try to capture what this past week has felt like.

My partner left for a business trip a week ago on March 7th. At that point in time we had confirmed cases in Oregon (the first case was announced on February 28th), but the threat did not feel present. Every time I worried it felt like I was overreacting. He headed off to California and I stayed in Oregon. I went to work on Monday and spent the entire day with my team - we had a potluck and went over a training plan we were hoping to share with over 1000 people throughout the state in the next 6 weeks.

By the end of the day Monday, we had decided to switch our training curriculum to an online platform. At the time we thought we might be overly worried about this, but wanted to accommodate our partners, some of whom had already prohibited community meetings. We crafted an email explanation that was almost apologetic in nature, and steered away from any strong disease-related language.

By Tuesday, we had sent out emails to cancel our monthly community meetings with one last in-person meeting planned for Wednesday morning. It felt like too late to make a change and the risk did not feel high. By Thursday we had switched entirely to webinars. In a team huddle on Thursday afternoon I argued with another team member over whether we should all meet as a team again next Monday. By Friday, that Monday meeting was cancelled.

In Oregon, our Governor moved with a speed I am proud of. On Wednesday, gatherings of 250 or more people were banned across the state. By late Thursday the announcement came out to close all schools in the state, starting Monday. However testing is still miles behind where it should be, and it feels like most of our positive and presumptive cases are community spread, meaning that they are evidence of the worst outcomes, not the actual spread. On Thursday my county, Clackamas, officially joined the list of counties with confirmed cases. A man roughly my own age, connected to a Washington County case.

It feels like every single corporation I have ever given my email to has now sent me their COVID-19 plan, and many are revising these to be more stringent each day. Restaurants, clothing stores, gyms, all with news and guidelines to convince us we are safe. They are safe. I am starting to see some targeted ads of the "stuck at home? order this!" variety.

By all accounts, it looks like we are still headed towards an Italy model for this pandemic, which is terrifying. Our grocery stores are packed, shelves emptying. Hand sanitizer is gone, everywhere. Toilet paper is next on the hard-to-find list. Rice, bread, ramen.. I stopped by a few stores and each had a slightly unique set of outages, based on the restocking rate and the customers present. I was lucky, I could do my shopping while most were still at work. I made sure my car gas tank was full.

My partner pushed his return flight to Friday morning. I drove to the airport with trepidation. We're both aware that we have different risk patterns, and we're on the lookout for any sign of illness. We have a thermometer that I think about checking every hour or so, but I've held myself to 2-3 checks a day so far.

I don't have the brainpower to talk about our federal messaging and leadership right now. If I get started down that path, I may not be able to dig myself out.

Writing out my experience may be useful for my mental health, and it may not. I realized, sitting in my house while snow falls outside (a strange mid-March omen) that this is an unprecedented time. Historic, even. And I want to capture a small bit of it for posterity.

As of today I believe I am healthy. Or mostly so. It's hard to gauge. No fever. No dry cough. I am 33 years old. In one week I turn 34.