One Year of Worry

While we officially began social distancing on March 13th, today is the approximate anniversary of really worrying about the coronavirus.  I began making lists of what supplies we should have on hand if there was a complete lockdown, started ordering items needed to take care of our family if we got sick from an illness we knew little about, and discussed with Joshua what we should do in different scenarios.  We had envisioned a few weeks of shutdowns, government oversight of borders, and aid from the U.S. to other countries like the Ebola virus.  It was scary.  However, it was not as scary as it would have been if we knew the truth of what was going to happen -- the number of people who would die (current worldwide estimate: a mind-boggling 2.5 million individuals;  here in the States, just hit the grim half-million mark), the length of the shutdowns, the impact on the economy, and the toll of the ongoing stress.  

With the new COVID-19 variant, I have some of the same worries about our future, but this time I'm armed with some knowledge of just how many things can adjust in our world very quickly.  I don't believe we are out of the woods, even with the vaccine rollout, and I believe it will take a long time before the collective worry ends.  

Page in my personal notebook from February 2020

When the pandemic began, James innocently asked Joshua and me how many pandemics we had lived through.  We laughed and explained that this wasn't common.  I felt reassured when his question seemed to demonstrate that our calm energy in front of the children effectively made him not panic.  However, from that point on, when things were inconvenient (my thyroid troubles, my sprained ankle, feelings of isolation), I started saying, "This is my least favorite pandemic."  Armed with this stupid joke, we have made the best of this situation. We are inconvenienced but lucky enough not to be directly impacted by the virus or have anyone in our immediate community die.