The Death Rate
As the father of three kids, my initial strong fears relating to coronavirus all involved them. I imagined one of them unable to get the ventilator they needed to survive and how I’d do anything to get it for them. Thankfully we have enough aggregate data about the virus to know that kids are almost always immune from the worst effects, the viral pneumonia. Of course who wants to tempt fate? And there are plenty of kids with compromised immunity, so I still want my kids and all kids to avoid contracting the virus at all costs. But my worst fears no longer involve them.
As for my mother, she just turned ninety years old, has led a good life, and has the constitution of a bull. In fact, we call her the bulldog. While I’m concerned for her safety, and the safety of all old people, I’m feeling more relieved that she is at a top notch retirement community that is taking strong steps to protect its residents. I’m feeling cautiosly optomistic about her chances.
But what about me? When it comes down to it, at this point in this situation, when I’m quiet with myself, I’m thinking about my own death, and those of the other healthy adults in my life, like my wife, siblings, exended family and friends. Our deaths are highly unlikely. Your death, reader, is also highly unlikely. But there is enough of a worry present in my monkey mind to accelerate the thoughts of mortality and the fragility of life, and all the other things that crop up when you hit 48.
At times I think its better just to get it over with, to be almost happy to get the virus, go through the illness and then hopefully recover. Then at least I’d have immunity. It reminds me of the feeling of standing sixty feet up, on the ledge of the Hacienda Bridge, getting ready to jump into the Russian River below. Half the incentive is to get it over with. When you’re standing up there, exposed, you are aware that some people, very rarely, have been paralyzed. But once you hit the water, feel your legs and body and know you are OK, it’s over and you can head back to your beach chair and chill out. Note that I haven’t jumped off the bridge in a decade, because I don’t want to take the risk.
Other times, I think its best to take the ultra cautions route. I’m at the library writing this, so obviously I haven’t taken this action yet. With this approach, I’ll go all Felix Unger and sterilize everything I touch, start self isolating 100% as possible, and wait for the vaccine. While I know I’ll probably be OK if I get it, this is still the most rational path to ensuring safety. This approach is the way to go, of course. “Flattening the curve” means that the hospitals aren’t all flooded at the same time, and ensures there will be ICU beds for multiple waves of patients, rather than one big wave, like what Italy is experiencing right now.
The problem is that the virus is invisible, and until it starts to hit people in my universe, it “doesn’t feel like it’s time yet.” Of course, skipping big gatherings is a no brainer at this point, and we should be doing that now. I’m talking about the next step…. standing six feet apart from everyone other than your family. That’s probably what we should be doing right now.
I love movies and books about contagions, disasters, and the like. Chernobyl was great. I just finished a book about September 11th and the plight of people who were stuck in the towers. Some made it out, others didn’t. These stories are poignant and reveal the character of those involved. Our plight is not like this… all of our chances of survival are exponentially greater. But I can’t think of anything else like this in my lifetime where there is a death rate (however low but likely at least 6x the bad flu) and it might be coming for us. Before shit started getting serious a week ago, my wife jokingly said “you must be enjoying this.” She knows I have a prepper sensibility. In fact, I did make a $500 grocery run, (and I hope my kids like beans, rice and canned soup.)
But damn, while this is all poignant and interesting in a dark way, it doesn’t feel so good to be a few days or weeks away from a potential catastrophic hurricane making landfall in our village. When Mother Nature rears her head and shows us what she’s capable of in her fair, cold and unforgiving way, I’d rather be reading about it in a book then about to live it. The suspense is (hopefully not) killing me.
Stay safe out there, people.
Of course we are all inundated with information about the virus, but this is the link to the CDC website for the latest official information and guidance: https://www.cdc.gov/.
