I’m Jealous of the People Who Aren’t Taking COVID-19 Seriously

I wish I could live my life blissfully unaware of the consequences of pretending we aren’t in the middle of a pandemic.

Galveston just enacted a new law requiring residents to wear masks in places of business, effective today. Well, that’s not quite accurate. Texas Governor Abbott won’t let cities or counties impose fines on residents for refusing to wear a mask. So, Galveston (along with Houston and a few of the other large cities across the state) found a loophole where they are allowed to fine businesses for allowing customers inside without masks.

Either way, masks are now, finally, a requirement here, and most of my neighbors are NOT happy. Here are just a few of the comments I’ve seen:

• ”Enough Already! Build a healthy immune system and herd immunity!”
• “Another ‘expert’ gives his opinion. How many more expects (sic) will say something different??? Quit with the scare tactics. the numbers are still not adding up, they change hourly now.. Enough.”
• “That little cloth doesn’t prevent shit…or Covid-19.”
• “Masks only do so much, cloth masks do absolutely nothing!!! Plus wearing masks all day actually puts you in more danger because your (sic) breathing in carbon moxide (sic) which is poison to your body. Lets (sic) use common sense people. We are on our way to new world order simply because the ‘sheep’ are buying into everything they are fed.”
• “I haven’t worn a mask since this crap started and I’m not going to start now. Go ahead and live in fear little sheeple. I’m not buying into the lies.”

Mostly, statements like these make me angry and sad. People like that put my life in risk every time I leave my apartment. Lately, though, I’ve realized that underneath my anger, I’m actually a little jealous of people who aren’t afraid of COVID-19.

I wish I wasn’t so aware of my risk. I wish I was just being a “sheep.”

I have crappy lungs. I have exercise-induced asthma, I get a respiratory tract infection nearly every winter, I’ve had walking pneumonia twice, and I have more than 12 years worth of dog hair, dander, dirt, and toenail dust in my lungs from my time as a dog groomer. I’ve been wary about this virus since I first heard about it in my travel groups in January or February.

Now, it looks like obesity is the biggest risk factor behind age for severe COVID-19 infection.

And, at somewhere around 300 pounds, I definitely qualify as obese. You might be thinking, “Just lose some weight and stop complaining!”

OK, even if it were as easy as just doing it, the safest weight loss rate is 1–2 pounds per week. That means it should take me at least a year to lose 100 pounds. That’s not a quick fix by any means, and I’ll still be obese — just no longer “morbidly obese.” Even if I put my best effort into losing weight, there’s likely to be a vaccine before I drop obesity as a risk factor.

I wish I wasn’t so aware of my risk. I wish I was just being a “sheep.” But because I actually understand my risk, I know that I’m likely facing at least another 6 months to a year of isolation. And that’s a daunting, depressing thought.

At the beginning of the year, I was living in my car (voluntarily). I’m so glad I settled into an apartment in February, but man, I am really itching to hit the road again. I absolutely love it here in Galveston, so if I have to be stuck anywhere, I’m glad it’s here.

Despite my jealousy, I recognize that I am actually extremely privileged.

But wanderlust is hitting me hard, and every month as I try to decide how and whether to pay my rent, I have the urge to pack my life into my car again.

I like to go park by the beach and imagine living in my car again. I try to figure out ways I could make it work and still keep myself and others safe. But it’s not realistic. Maybe if I had a van or RV with a full bathroom, it would be easier, but entering half a dozen public places each day to do my business sounds like a good way to pick up the virus.

Frankly, I would probably be wiser to get rid of my car rather than my apartment. As much as I’ve always wanted to travel, and living in my car gave me that opportunity, I just need to put that dream on hold for a while longer.

Ideally, I should be taking the chance to work harder and improve my finances, so the next time I travel full-time, I can afford to actually see and do stuff rather than just work in a new Starbucks every day.

Despite my jealousy, I recognize that I am actually extremely privileged. As a full-time freelance writer, I have the opportunity to work from home. I don’t have to risk my health to go to work so I can pay my bills. I can get most of my groceries loaded directly into my car thanks to online ordering.

And while I do occasionally splurge and hit up a drive-through or have something delivered, my overall risk of catching the virus is still relatively low — as long as I do my part and stay home as much as possible, and wash my hands and wear a mask when I must go out.

So, as much as I’m jealous of the people who are out there living their lives as if nothing is wrong, I also recognize that I’m one of the lucky ones. I get to take the virus seriously.

Who knows? If I was forced to earn my paycheck by interacting with the public every day, I might use denial as a coping mechanism, too.