The COVID-19 Pandemic has Improved my Life

My quality of life as a disabled woman has improved as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic’s impact on our society, and I feel guilty for it. While I see improved access, the very people who work so hard to help me have this quality of life are now on the front lines giving more than has ever been asked of me as their patient. It’s disheartening that it’s taken a pandemic for disabled people to get better access to resources, employment and social opportunities. It’s frustrating that the entire world had to be locked in their homes for many to understand how difficult isolation can be day-to-day.

I graduated from college in 2009, and entering the workforce in the middle of that recession felt like walking into a funhouse. The jobs we had prepared years for didn’t exist anymore, so many of us had no choice but to make new types of careers for ourselves as freelancers or explorers into the new frontier of social media and start-ups. Being disabled and chronically ill was just another strike against me, and I wasn’t comfortable disclosing my disability status publicly.

I’ve worked remotely on and off throughout my career since, and there have been many occasions that I had to convince clients, superiors, and even family members that yes, digital marketing is legitimate, and yes, I get paid to “do that.” Now, everyone is working remotely. Instead of being bitter, I try to still see opportunity albeit hesitantly. My hope is that employers will understand the value of hiring remote disabled workers now.

As an adolescent, I was entranced by the internet boom in the late 90’s and after becoming disabled and chronically ill at 18, I’ve spent a lot of my social life online. My only access to support groups in the early 2000’s were chronic pain message boards and chat rooms.

In “real” life I’ve had entire friendships and relationships fail because the other person didn’t see the value in connecting with me digitally while long-distance or ill. Now, everyone is on my level, chatting away in our living rooms as we wait for the worst to pass. No one looks at me sideways when I ask for a video chat or if they want to watch a movie together over the phone or computer. Those relationships I lost still sting, but I’m glad to have more true friends now than ever thanks to technology.

My access to healthcare has also improved. I live an hour outside of Charleston, South Carolina, in a tiny rural town that doesn’t even have a stoplight. I typically make the drive into the city at least once a week to see specialists and receive treatments. The nearest emergency room is a minimum of 30 minutes away.

I recently arranged to cancel a medical appointment since I am at a high risk of contracting the coronavirus. I was then informed that I could make a virtual appointment for the same price as an in-person visit.

I was grateful for the sudden convenience, then I thought of all of the previous appointments that could’ve been done remotely over the years, saving me valuable time and priceless energy that doesn’t even really exist just to answer a few questions. Again, it took everyone being at risk of getting sick for me to get improved access to healthcare.

What has been most confusing is the fact that I feel guilty about finally getting basic access that everyone else has already had. I feel even more guilt as it’s coming at a huge price for humanity now. This is a cost that no one should have to endure and it wasn’t necessary to improve accessibility for disabled people.

Many disabled people have become activists out of necessity and survival, and have been fighting for access for so long. It’s a bit surreal to have it now, but how can I trust it? Will disabled people be left behind again once this is over? Or will we finally learn the lesson that this pandemic is trying to teach us, that we are all human, all equal in our mortality and susceptibility to such a horrific circumstance, and that we are all deserving of access to education, work and healthcare?

I don’t think there is any going back, and there is only one way, forward, as we can’t let the lives of those who have fought so hard to save ours be lost in vain.