A COVID-19 alphabet

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By Caitlin Kelly

 

A is for Appalled

How can millions be infected and so many dead?

B is for Bravery

Just read some of the tweets and threads on #medtwitter and they will break your heart. Healthcare workers are exhausted, traumatized, grieving — and trying to save lives, even for the selfish fools who couldn’t be bothered being responsible. Also, every worker in a customer-facing job.

C is for Compassion

Without it, we’re all as good as dead.

D is for Death

The numbers are staggering. When will it end?

E is for Expectation

Gone. We all live in a weird timeless moment now. Whatever we might have expected of 2020 — beyond this — is gone, maybe for good.

F is for Fear

Some is healthy and protective, making us socially distance and wear masks and wash hands and too much is paralyzing. Yet who, paying attention, isn’t fearful now?

G is for Generosity

For those who have been able to donate time, energy and money to those in need. To the incredibly kind healthcare workers who have crossed the country to give of their time and skills to those hospitals already overwhelmed.

H is for Health

If you have it still, you are very very lucky.

I is for Imagination

We must keep imagining a future that is less miserable than where we are right now. Without that, we are lost.

J is for Joy

Whatever moments you have, now, savor them fully.

K is for KitKats

The morning treat savored by Jeopardy host Alex Trebek. (See, made you smile!)

L is for Love

This pandemic has laid bare who loves and why. Those who truly love others are showing it in their behavior and choices.

M is for Mothers

Heroes now, more than ever, forced into handling work and kids and home-schooling.

N is for Nonsense

The garbage being touted as “news” and “cures” and “solutions.”

O is for Optimism

Yes, we need that as well.

P is for Political Incompetence

Need I say more?

Q is for Queen Elizabeth’s address to us all

Made on April 5, 2020:

“If we remain united and resolute, we will overcome. it…Those that come after us will say that the Britons of this generation were as strong as any. That the attributes of self discipline, of quiet good-humored resolve and fellow feeling still characterize this country…We will succeed and that success will belong to all of us…We will be with our friends again. We will be with our families again. We will meet again.”

R is for Resolve

See above.

S is for Staying Safe

Do whatever it takes. Do whatever you can. Every day. We help others by being safe.

T is for Time

At some point — when? — this will be in the past. It will be remembered as a time of massive upheaval and unemployment, of fear and contagion and political division. Until then, here we are. Tick tock. Tick tock.

U is for Unwinding

If you’re fortunate enough to be healthy and solvent, this is also, for some, a time of unwinding from the daily dramas, wearying and expensive commutes and rushrushrush of “normal life.”

V is for Vanity

Not now! Many of us have gone months without a haircut or new clothes or any form of traditional vanity. Some of us have gotten very good at home-made haircuts.

W is for Work

Without it, we are lost. Millions are facing a future without a job. Now what?

X is for Xanadu

If only we could escape…this was once the place.

Y is for Yelling

Do it! This is a time of endless stress and grief and fear and a good shout is cathartic as hell.

Z is for Zoom

Of course!

 

 

Soldiering on

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By Caitlin Kelly

One of my favorite films is Dr. Zhivago, with an unforgettable scene of a long line of exhausted, worn-out soldiers trudging forward.

To “soldier on” means to keep going, doing something that’s difficult, not giving up when you’re tired and discouraged and just fed up.

(It’s also a non-profit group dedicated to ending homelessness for veterans.)

It’s now been five months since COVID began to dominate our lives — with more than 137,000 Americans dead, thousands more soon to join them.

It’s been a long time to readjust, albeit immediately, to a world we never wanted: terrified of catching a disease that, if it doesn’t kill you, can radically damage your health for years to come. A world where parents, somehow, have had to school their own children or supervise their online learning in addition to earning an income in a full-time job.

And there’s no end in sight.

I live in New York, now one of the few states that flattened the curve because we listened early to the directions of Gov. Andrew Cuomo.

Is it fun to isolate?

To stay home most of the time?

To avoid all social gatherings?

To postpone medical, dental and grooming appointments?

Let alone to miss culture-in-person — dance,  music, museums theater, movies.

Hell, no!

And the single greatest problem with being a soldier right now is the stunning lack of leadership, of a general with a clue, with a strategy and tactics. We’re fighting the virus with very few weapons — masks, social distancing, ventilators, proning, remdesivir — and losing what feels like an endless battle.

Still.

I often deeply wish that the veterans of WWII were not so old, the few left alive, to share more widely and consistently the shared sense of sacrifice and solidarity that somehow got them through it all.

The enemy, Nazism and genocide, was clear(er) then and the fight, however long and expensive and bloody, was one most people agreed was essential to win, no matter the personal sacrifices. It was a matter of pride, then, to share the sacrifice, to know what you were doing to help really mattered and your colleagues, friends, family and neighbors largely agreed.

Not to whine that a mask contravenes your liberty — just like blackout curtains or rationing once did as well.

Today, somehow, a lethal virus is still not as clear an enemy — and thousands refuse to believe it even exists, like the 30-year-old whose last regretful words were: “I thought it was a hoax.”

 

But soldier on we must.