PANDEMIC UPDATE: YES, WE ARE STILL IN IT

I'm back.  I haven't really gone anywhere, since little has changed since I last wrote about the Covid crisis and lockdown.  There is is still a pandemic raging and we are still on a Stay Home/Stay Healthy order in Washington state, extended yet again until the end of May for most people, much longer for those over 65 and/or with underlying health conditions.

What has changed since I last reported stats a month ago is the number of cases and deaths.  Both have gone up:

TODAY --
Global cases:  3,810,744  Global deaths: 264,021

U.S. cases: 1,256,669   U.S. deaths: 74,121
Washington state cases: 15,594   Washington deaths: 862
My county cases:  2,549  My county deaths: 112

So when Hub found me sipping my coffee, staring out the window this morning and asked how I was doing today I said, "Pretty good."  He replied, "Well, I guess 'pretty good' is the new 'great!'"  And that is about how it feels.

How great can things really be?  Well, there are moments of greatness I guess, when for some reason a sense of normalcy and joy creeps in and I forget what is happening, or something unexpected and wonderful happens in the midst of this -- that can be something resembling great.  There are uplifting moments when I read or see stories of people being kind, generous, selfless, and loving during all of this horribleness.  It's kinda great when a TV show or a book or a funny thing on the internet takes me away to a happier time.  It's really great to talk to a nearly 35 years of friendship BFF on the phone every Tuesday.  I do believe we could laugh through the apocalypse.

But let's not forget my tendency toward anxiety and depression and my need to examine the dark side before I come back to the light.  I'm not a natural Pollyanna type.

Last week the Depression Monster grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me into the pit for a couple of days.  I had felt it stalking me for awhile.  I thought I'd fended it off.  Nope.  This time the lies it told me was that my family didn't care about me; that my regular reaching out to them with texts, messages, gifts, etc was more a bother than a support since I so rarely heard anything reciprocal from them.  I ignored the rational explanation that they already knew I was physically OK, (and my emotional well-being apparently is not on their radar screen),  that they are busy and stressed with their own life issues, that when I was in my 30s I was equally self-absorbed.  Ages and stages.  (Sorry, Mom; I get it now.)

So I spent a few "poor me" days in tears and sorrow until I got clear about an action to take -- basically stop reaching out so often, stop checking in, and hoping for news of their lives, and give them some space.  I think my impulse to offer them encouragement and support is pure -- I truly DO care and want the best for them, but with contemplation I recognized a secondary motivation being one of hope of reciprocation.  A gift with strings attached?  I need to get clear of that.

And I admit to a bit of jealousy when I hear other friends my age talk about how their adult "kids" are constantly checking in and checking up.  I think I understand on that count why ours are not....we are still a bit invincible in their eyes.  Both of us healthy, active, engaged...Hub's a retired doc for Heaven's sake.  What could we possibly need?  Again, this is familiar since my own mother was about the most stoic, strong, capable person I'd ever known....until she wasn't.  By the time it was so obvious anyone could have seen her mental decline, I had to admit I missed the early warning signs out of pure disbelief and denial.

So, with that light bulb going off, a different kind of light(ness) has re-entered the dark space, Depression gone,  and I'm back to merely the new normal dread of thinking I might die if someone breathes on me.

I leave the house only to go in our own yard and our almost daily (masked) walks in the neighborhood or at the waterfront.  I realized I was getting a bit agoraphobic, so I decided to go to Costco with Hub last week and that went fine; very few shoppers (relatively speaking), 99.9% of them wearing masks, no lines at the 6 ft spaced checkout.   I bought some new leggings and a couple of summer weight hoodies.  Haute Couture, Kirkland-brand style.

We've had two brief visits out in our yard and on the back deck with Son One and the grandgirls and Son Two and Lovely Fiance, keeping 6-12 feet away, although at one visit the 5 y/o ran toward us for the usual hug until her daddy grabbed her and reminded her to stay back, to which she said, "Oh, I forgot.  We can't touch or we will get sick."  How heartbreaking is that?  The ache to hug my granddaughters is palpable.

Nature is oblivious to the plight of humans, so spring is flowering in all its glory.  Veggies are planted in the raised beds, tomatoes growing on the sunny back deck, grass growing so fast it doesn't take long to feel like I am walking through the prairie to get to the garden.  The colors of spring are bright spots for sure.

Nicer weather also means that people are getting "quarantine fever", which in comparison to Covid Fever, will not kill you, but many are acting like it will and deciding to say 'screw it' to all these silly rules and resume life as before.  It may be impossible to express my rage at this decision, a decision that impacts everyone and prolongs this nightmare, but oh well, "freedom" is the byword of the ignorant and selfish at this point.

People are starting to gather, most don't wear masks, some are openly and proudly defiant.  And I'm just talking locally.  Nationally it's a disgraceful disaster of disregard for human suffering from the very top of government with the lives of those who are most vulnerable to this killer virus seemingly expendable in a rush to "open the country" again and get that economy moving.

I know this doesn't sound at all like my depression has lifted.  (Just think what I'd have sounded like had I posted last week!)  I'm not depressed, just taking a hard look at reality these days.  But sure, I could focus on more of the bright side.  I'll do that next time.  Promise.

At least that's the view from here...©