My Mask Is Not A Political Statement

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Abstract

ade a quick trip inside a local gas station. Since I was already going inside, I offered to grab my five-year-old a treat, a little package of candies. As I headed to grab what she’d requested. A large man without a mask, we are supposed to be wearing masks when we enter public spaces in Michigan, mind you. Saw me and rather than pass and walk to the next aisle, as it seemed he originally planned. He saw me, with my mask, raised an eyebrow, stopped short, and turned down my aisle. He walked so close he nearly brushed against me. I saw the smirk on his face he did it. His body language said, “I wish you would say something.”The man appeared to be over 6’ tall, broad shoulders, with a body made for physical labor. He had a young enough face, that I would check his ID for both cigarettes and alcohol. I am 44 years old. I am 5’2” and a woman. I barely weigh over 100 lbs. I’m not looking to fight a grown man. I’m not wearing a mask to fight over politics. My mask is not a political statement.I wear a mask because my aortic valve is made from pig tissue. I wear a mask because I suffer from an autoimmune disease and take chemo like drugs to fight it. I wear a mask because I suffered a

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TIA stroke last October and my risk of having another, bigger stroke or heart attack that will likely kill me within the year is 1 in 5. Not great odds. I don’t think adding Covid19 to my list of problems is anything I want to do. I’m not wearing my mask to show my love for Big Gretch, though I think she did an excellent job for our state. I wear my mask because I’m trying not to die and trying not to kill other people.My mask is not a political statement. My mask is a health statement. My mask is me screaming, “ I’ve had my heart stopped for 20 minutes, I’d like it to keep beating.” I’ve been on a heart-lung machine, I have no desire to be on a ventilator. I’ve had to relearn to swallow, type, and take care of my basic bodily functions. I have no desire to fight through it again to get my life back. My mask is not a statement to encourage you to fight me. My mask is a statement that says, “I’m damn tired of fighting for my life. Please just let me live.” I’m not looking to debate science with you. I don’t need to prove right or wrong to you. I’m minding my own business avoiding you and trying to avoid the pandemic. Please leave me alone, like I’m trying to leave you alone.</article></body>

My Mask Is Not A Political Statement

As a Michigan resident, with the state opening, I’ve been on lockdown since early March. Prior to the Governor issuing orders, I was avoiding being out and about. A few times, I’ve had to make quick trips to grab items. But mostly, my husband has done it all. Michigan is a divided state. I don’t think it’s evenly divided. I think there are the people who headed to the capital with their guns those of us who attempted to stay safe and stayed inside as much as possible. Our hospitals were overwhelmed and ICU teams were forced to make the terrible decision of who got a fighting chance and who didn’t. But those gun-toting, science-denying, people who attended the anti governor rally, represent the mentality of the people I live around. I live in a small rural town.

A few weeks ago, I made a quick trip inside a local gas station. Since I was already going inside, I offered to grab my five-year-old a treat, a little package of candies. As I headed to grab what she’d requested. A large man without a mask, we are supposed to be wearing masks when we enter public spaces in Michigan, mind you. Saw me and rather than pass and walk to the next aisle, as it seemed he originally planned. He saw me, with my mask, raised an eyebrow, stopped short, and turned down my aisle. He walked so close he nearly brushed against me. I saw the smirk on his face he did it. His body language said, “I wish you would say something.”

The man appeared to be over 6’ tall, broad shoulders, with a body made for physical labor. He had a young enough face, that I would check his ID for both cigarettes and alcohol. I am 44 years old. I am 5’2” and a woman. I barely weigh over 100 lbs. I’m not looking to fight a grown man. I’m not wearing a mask to fight over politics. My mask is not a political statement.

I wear a mask because my aortic valve is made from pig tissue. I wear a mask because I suffer from an autoimmune disease and take chemo like drugs to fight it. I wear a mask because I suffered a TIA stroke last October and my risk of having another, bigger stroke or heart attack that will likely kill me within the year is 1 in 5. Not great odds. I don’t think adding Covid19 to my list of problems is anything I want to do. I’m not wearing my mask to show my love for Big Gretch, though I think she did an excellent job for our state. I wear my mask because I’m trying not to die and trying not to kill other people.

My mask is not a political statement. My mask is a health statement. My mask is me screaming, “ I’ve had my heart stopped for 20 minutes, I’d like it to keep beating.” I’ve been on a heart-lung machine, I have no desire to be on a ventilator. I’ve had to relearn to swallow, type, and take care of my basic bodily functions. I have no desire to fight through it again to get my life back. My mask is not a statement to encourage you to fight me. My mask is a statement that says, “I’m damn tired of fighting for my life. Please just let me live.” I’m not looking to debate science with you. I don’t need to prove right or wrong to you. I’m minding my own business avoiding you and trying to avoid the pandemic. Please leave me alone, like I’m trying to leave you alone.