It was March 18, three days after Iowa shut down its schools in response to COVID-19, that I decided to record, on a micro-scale, what was one person (I) was experiencing in what looked to be a strange and uncertain time.
It's been 223 days since then.
That's about 32 weeks.
More than seven months.
Sixty-two percent of a year.
Our country is on its third spike.
I cannot see the end of this.
------------------------
Three days after March 18, my parents moved in. I'll call that Phase #1 of my COVID experience. As I look back on it now, it was the honeymoon. We had nowhere to go. Our goal was to stay home and stay safe. We did this with bubbles, puzzles, poems, and Bridge--daily heart meds delivered in tiny teacups. Our distress over Randy's horrific COVID illness and the anxiety of learning to social distance were real. But we were hunkered down in a simple way. Looking back, that time looks sunny.
--------------------------
Phase #2 was my return to school in August as I moved my parents back to their care center and braced myself for teaching in a district that "attempted" social distancing and "expected" masking.
Except for an outbreak that quarantined one of our sports teams and several faculty members before school officially started, our building, district, and county hovered in the low range of COVID positivity for weeks.
In late September, for a few days, when our county positive rate fell below 5%, I returned to the normalcy wearing dresses rather than in the COVID scrubs I can throw in a hot-water wash at the end of a day of potential contamination.
I think our county was lulled into believing we could bluster our way through this virus, mostly un-masked and frequently un-distanced, because for months we'd barely any cases. We're in the middle of nowhere.
But this morning Cass County has the highest positivity rate in the state: 22%
-----------------------------
Is this Phase #3?
With the positivity above 20% ("uncontrolled outbreak" level), our school board decided to require masking last Friday.
That evening our community (distanced, masked--or like me, home with a radio) cheered the high-school football team as it advanced in the playoffs.
On Sunday our small town found itself reeling with a tragic accident involving our precious youth.
The election looms.
This past week has pummeled me.
I'll need to look for light today. It's sure to be there somewhere.
Enough.
Be well.
Write
 |
| Last night's #IowaSky |
Hoping for more light in your spaces.
ReplyDeleteMore than seven months! I still remember when my husband said in March that we'd still be facing this in July and I hoped against hope he would be wrong.
Hoping your pummeling fades a bit soon. Waiting for the next Wolf pic.