I’ve had an odd couple of weeks. Well, as have we all, but I was experiencing a rather select strangeness. All last week, by the end of each day of seeing patients, I was feeling incredibly fatigued, and going home with a severe headache and nausea. No fever, none of the symptoms of COVID-19 (although at this point, the shorter list is what is not a symptom of the virus). But by the morning, I would be feeling fine again, and I’d make my merry way off to work.
It took me a little thought and a little research to figure out what’s going on. For the past month, I’ve been literally living in alcohol, at first isopropyl and now good ole’ Everclear-style. As the only disinfectant I can lay my hands on, grain alcohol is what I use to decontaminate the rooms between patients, spraying it about the table and furnishings like holy water. And about 30 times a day, I’d be dousing my hands in alcohol for a quick rinse between chores. As my exposure through skin and air built up over time, I was developing an alcohol toxicity.
Time for a change. I got online and ordered several bars of Goatboy Soaps, made in New Milford, and stopped using the alcohol on my hands. Washing hands with soap takes longer, but is likely more effective and certainly less toxic. Also, Goatboy’s soaps smell good, unlike the lingering smell of frat house carpeting that ethanol leaves on my hands.
The response was dramatic. I may not be able to go home and beat a chess master in a match after work, but then again, I never could. Yet, even with this relief, I am left with a certain malaise. Like everyone else, I’m wondering when this whole damn thing will end?
And the real answer is that it will end when nature is good and ready for it to end.
Modern humans are used to pretending that we can bend nature to our will. Only during short extremes – torndoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, floods – does nature reveal its inevitability. But for all our attempts to hide it, that inevitability is inescapable. We are far from the masters of this earth, we are its children. Badly behaved ones, at that. And when push comes to shove, it is our will that will bend to nature’s. Or, in the words of Dr. Fauci, “We don’t determine the timeline. The virus does.”
So we huddle under cover, either alone or with our atomized families. We curse, we fret, we crumble, we foolishly challenge nature’s might, and get slapped upside the head for doing so. This is what humans have done since the first thunderstorm sent us running into the first cave.
Where we paint the walls, we continue to create, whether it be in pictures, song, words, or even relationships, as strange as that may seem right now. I am seeing as new virtual communities grow online, just waiting to burst into a more material life.
There’s no way to sugarcoat this, though, it sucks right now for a lot of people. Forget making rent, let’s talk about having enough food to make dinner. Let’s talk about being stuck with a violent partner or parent. For many, this isn’t about an opportunity to create, it’s about a struggle for survival against seemingly overwhelming odds.
From that perspective, the race to re-open our world is entirely understandable. Though, to be honest, the protesters I’ve seen have been mostly concerned with their loss of haircuts and aisle-browsing at TJ Maxx, rather than the need to escape growing danger.
What’s the correct answer? What can I do, from my safe home, to help others who are not so safe? Well, for starters, reach out. Talk to people. In my practice, I’ve made it a point to identify patients who may be at risk and reach out to them regularly by text or phone, quietly gauging their status. But you don’t have to be a doctor to do this. Pick up your phone. Send a text. Even just hearing another’s concern and interest in your welfare can be a relief to those in need. Offer to drop off some food on the porch, or toilet paper, or whatever. We are all in need of something right now.
The second part of the answer is harder. We all need to give some hard, critical thought to how we have lived up to now. How could it be that we would leave so many people in desperate need, in a land still rich in resources? How could it be that we have come to dismiss the value of life, threatening minimum-wage jobholders with economic retribution if they don’t do their employer’s bidding?
Over the past quarter century, we have unwittingly normalized behavior that is antisocial to its very core. Is it surprising that nature has followed suit?
Be well. Wear masks. Wash your hands. This will end.
May our spring, when it finally comes, be beautiful.