Pondering Pandemic

~ Linda Wright

Even though I no longer have a television and only listen to the radio when I am driving, the news comes to me without me looking for it. So I already knew about the virus predicted to kill globally, I was surprised when I went out to lunch last week with friends I hadn’t seem in three years. I was taken aback that no one would touch me, no one hugged me, no one would even do a fist bump. They were all afraid of getting COVID-19. All but one of us was over sixty years of age, and most of us had serious medical weaknesses. The consequences were in deed worrisome.

After I regained my composure from being told there would be no touching, my first thought was “We’re all going to die anyway.” I don’t want to live my life in voluntary seclusion. I get energy from being with people. In my childhood I spent days, sometimes weeks, confined to a bed and wondering about what my friends were doing in school or at play. Over my lifetime I have learned to adapt when I needed to be hospitalized but, I never learned to enjoy social distancing.

I also have considerable experience being told I would not live long. At a young age I not only knew I was going to die, I thought it would happen soon. I’ve meditated on my own death, a spiritual practice that help me gain some perspective on my minuteness in this world. I’ve developed a rather cynical sense of humor. I’ve recently read “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory,” It’s a book I recommend. The author, Caitlin Doughty is on a mission. She also has a blog and a podcast because she is serious about normalizing death or as she puts it, “Accepting that death itself is natural, but the death anxiety and terror of modern culture are not.”

It still astonishes me when I’m confronted with death deniers. I chuckle at folks who believe that mid-life is age fifty. In a way, I understand. My imagination isn’t broad enough to fully comprehend a world where I do not exist even if I know that will happen. Knowing I will die sooner rather than later leads me to think about what I want to do while I am still alive. It does not make me want to crawl under the bedcovers.

What startled me last week escalated into a swirling vortex of anxiety as more and more friends began expressing concern when I said I intended to do little to protect myself from getting the virus. Peer pressure has made me reevaluate my attitudes. So yes, I am taking precautions now.

I’ve always been a planner, trying to anticipate what could go wrong and taking steps in and attempt to prevent injury. At the same time I recognize the limitations of any plan. To quote President Eisenhower, “In preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.”

The only thing I can have the possibility of controlling is my mind and that is challenge enough for me. The worrier in me wonders about random things. All of the presidential candidates are in the high risk category. What will happen if they all die? What will happen if all the children are asymptomatic but infect their caregivers? How many sick people will hospitals be able to help before they become over burdened and can not accept any more patients?

“Breathe,” I tell myself with a bit of sarkiness, “while you still can.”

Hallelujah! I have lived more than seventy years and it has been mostly a great life, full of love, and caring. Perhaps it would be for the best if vast numbers of we old people and those with weakened immune systems did die off. Would it help to save the planet, at least temporarily? Would it give the younger generation a chance to do a better job than we have?

“In the end these things matter most:
How well did you love?
How fully did you live?
How deeply did you let go?”
— Jack Kornfield, Buddha’s Little Instruction Book

Halloween Nights: A Journey Through Costumes and Memories

~ Linda Wright

Tonight is the night that the ghosts and goblins get to party. The specter of death is all around us but we are not spooked. In fact we are celebrating. Young and old are dressed up in funny or scary costumes. They are out wandering in search of a good time. Children are allowed to beg for candy tonight. Instead of lighting candles in the graveyard they carry flashlights.

Our doorbell has not rung once and I do not expect it to, since we now live in a part of town with no sidewalks. In another time and another place we would be dropping bite sized chocolates into paper bags for hundreds of tiny beggars wearing masks. I miss those little imps dressed as Harry Potter or Cinderella. It was a demand I often wished I did not have to fill, but now that I not longer had Trick or Treaters at my door I can and remember those times fondly.

Day 31 (of 31 days of free writing)

Understanding Pain Signals: Listening to Your Body

~ Linda Wright

Today my writing is focused on pain because my ankles hurt each time I stood, freezing me momentarily, locking my stride in a halting limp. Pain is a signal, telling me to pay attention. It’s a warning that there is a blockage in a nerve. Some part of my body’s operating system isn’t getting enough of what it needs to work smoothly. There’s a kink in the wiring. It is worrisome and annoying, like the sound of a smoke detector. I’ve learned it should not be ignored or overridden. It’s natural to think about turning it off by taking a pill or finding another way to dull the ache. It’s tempting to keep busy with distractions. When I was growing up that was not an option, so I practiced the old-time techniques of rest, ice and elevation.

I’ve learned that low level pain is eased by paying attention to it. Ignoring it gives me the impression that it is incessant. When I really stop to listen it actually comes and goes. The wail, lightens to a squeak, then to a chirp, there are pauses, and bits of silence. As I listen to the pitch and volume modulate I feel relief.

Day 30 (of 31 days of free writing)

Doctors Go Fairy-Tale: A Halloween Costume Twist

~ Linda Wright

My doctor told me that on Thursday she will be dressed as Alice in Wonderland. It’s Halloween and apparently all the doctors will be dressed as a storybook character. It seems a bit bizarre that someone actually assigned the doctors a role for the day. It didn’t sound as if my doctor had any choice. She does already have the long blond hair. “It’s an easy one,” she says, “All I need is a blue dress.” I decided not to mention the white pinafore which I thought might just be essential to complete the outfit. Perhaps she thinks her lab coat will be sufficient. I’m suddenly glad I am there to meet with her on Tuesday and not Thursday. I already feel like I am falling down a rabbit hole of a new medical muddle. I wouldn’t want my doctor to look at my last ultrasound results only to say, “Curiouser, and curiouser.”

Day 29 (of 31 days of free writing)

Embracing Skepticism: The Art of Questioning Ideas

~ Linda Wright

At my core I am a skeptic. My first response is often to question what I have read or been told. It’s a reflex response. I believe I learned it at a young age, encouraged to think for myself by my parents. I do my best not to take the opposing view just because I could argue the other side. I try to monitor my disbelief. Otherwise I would be arguing with my friends more often than I agree with their opinions. I would be muttering under my breath or huffing loudly in public, questions popping out of my mouth as if I was still a six year old. I’ve learned the hard way that most people do not enjoy a debate as much as I do, whereas I see disagreement as brain gymnastics.

Day 28 (of 31 days of free writing)