Featured Refresh
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Think about the people closest to you. Tell us about how the coronavirus has affected them, and their life.
This is myself (in the fighter pilot helmet) hugging my daughter who had been working as an ICU nurse with strictly COVID prone vented patients for 4-6 weeks straight. She was struggling with her work and her inability to socialize - see family and friends - and working 12 hour shifts 5 or 6 days per week. She was a new nurse (only been in ICU for 4 months when COVID hit). She has a passion for elderly and hospice care (she worked at the VA in step down care the year before). I was getting calls from her in the middle of the night crying and hysterical because she was profoundly sad that COVID patients were coming in talking and walking and then would be on vents within 24 hours. The idea of not having anyone with them when they were dying was tearing her apart. She was seeing patients her own age, her parents age as well as older patients. She was seeing a large portion of the patients being black and hispanic. She was literally operating in a 'shock' mode. She was so worried about myself and my husband getting sick. I was so proud of her and worried for her own health and mental health but could do nothing other than face time and send her gifts. In this photo we met at a highway rest stop in Indiana (we each drove 2 hours to meet) and our family brought her the family dog to help with her sanity and be sure that she felt less alone in her Chicago apartment (which her roommate had moved out due to my daughter working strictly with COVID patients). Our dog stayed with her for 3 weeks and I truly believe that this saved her life (mentally at least). Her mood and ability to cope changed immediately. People need people (or dogs) and they need 'a reason to keep going and getting through the days'. Thanks for letting me share.
September 7, 2020
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How is the coronavirus pandemic affecting your life right now? Tell us about your experiences, feelings, and thoughts.
Reluctantly, we decided to send our children to their usual summer day camp -- retooled to follow COVID-era precautions: questions and temperature checks at drop-off, no buses to/from camp, which is a good 1/2 hr away from where most kids live, brown-bag lunches, socializing only in tight groups/pods, masks on staff (but not kids), no late nights or overnights, no hand-clap games, backrubs, or usual camp hugging, touching, or roughhousing. As I write about these restrictions they sound awful. And yet the kids are THRILLED to go there every day. They get away from their cranky and exhausted parents, from the perfectly comfortable house (with a playroom! and a backyard!) where they've been stuck since March, from zooms and screens and nagging and chores. They're swimming in the pool, fishing in the lake, doing dance routines at flagpole, making lanyards and friendship bracelets, and building wooden boxes in woodworking. And they come home filthy and sweaty at the end of each day. It's not normal camp -- for sure. But this little taste of summer is such a blessing, and a gift. This week, Tropical Storm Isaias pummeled the coast and sent them home early one day, only to be stuck at home the next because of power outages and storm damage. In anticipation of the storm, our little one came home with this piece of art yesterday -- marker on a hunk of wood from the woodshop -- and told us it represents a tropical storm. It's chaotic, and beautiful, and a testament to the fact that in this CRAZY time of asinine and criminal political leadership, economic freefall, deeply embedded racism, environmental destruction, etc., little kids are absorbing this mad world -- and, sometimes, refracting it back to us as a place of beauty.
August 10, 2020