Reflections on a Virus
How scared should we be?
This story is in response to Stephen Sovie’s recent prompt in the following:
To say that this is a surreal time is a huge understatement. And, as I try to keep up with the latest news about the pandemic sweeping through our country, I am both confused and horrified.
In my 60s, I wonder how concerned I should be. I don’t even consider myself a “senior,” yet I guess I’m a part of the population that really has to be careful. As in no screwing around.
I’ve had breast cancer and have made it five years clean, thank God, or Buddha or just my stubborn will to keep on keepin’ on. So, with that said, I am weary of worrying about my health.
I don’t want to be on “house arrest.” I’m here most of the time, as it is. But, I recently joined a gym and have found it an incredible boost to my morale, as well as an aide to relieving my chronic anxiety.
But now I wonder: If I go to the gym for a sweat session, am I putting not only myself but my husband in jeopardy, as well?
How scared should we be?
I know that our lack of leadership scares me. Hell, yes. We have an Apprentice to the Presidency at the helm of our Mothership and he is lacking in…everything. Rather than bring this country together, he has spouted lies, misinformation and conjecture. And, he has put himself and his staff in harm’s way!
I’m guessing we should be pretty damned scared.
But this is what’s really frightening me: The mob mentality. The hoarding, of toilet paper, and water and other necessities. Even booze, people and that really pisses me off.
You know those all of those films that chronicle what would happen in a post-apocalyptic society? They’re not so far off. People fighting each other…killing each other over the last scraps of food or clothing or shelter of any kind.
I can foresee this happening. Because we never seem to “get it.”
Yesterday, I went to the store, stupidly thinking I’d pick up a few items that we were running low on, like toilet paper, paper towels and distilled water for my husband’s CPAP machine.
There was nothing left. Nada. People were careening around me with their carts, brows furrowed, expressions determined as they systematically wiped out the store. It brought to mind the influx of the 17-year Cicadas.
BUZZZZZZZ!!!!!! Take that, fella. Fuck you!
I can’t speak to the spread of the virus or the efficacy in testing for it, or how long we’ll have to wait before life returns to “normal.” I’m not a doctor or a scientist or a researcher, but I am a writer, and as such, a student of human nature.
And, I am a human being who's learned a bit about how my fellow humans react in catastrophic situations.
I know that we’ll witness greedy, brutish, seven-deadly-sin-like behavior, as well as extraordinary acts of kindness. But which will win out?
The Italians, who are on lock-down, are singing to one another from their windows and balconies. Singing! And playing instruments! And we’re trampling each other in grocery stores.
Per Stephen’s prompt, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Here’s mine: If we don't get it together, if we don’t come together, we’re fucked.
Please chime in P.G. Barnett, Hawkeye Pete Egan, Estacious(Charles White), Don Feazelle, Charlene Fate, Kathryn Dillon, Susan Brearley, Robin Klammer, James Knight, Rasheed Hooda, Remington Write, Caroline de Braganza, Adam, Diabetic Cyborg and anyone else who cares to share.
Thank you for reading.
