Over the past few weeks I’ve been fretting quietly about COVID-19. I’ve never considered myself a germaphobe, and part of my nervous reaction was amplified by the fact that I was nervous at all. But that nervous feeling was (and is) very real, and I’ve tried desperately to figure out what exactly was triggering such a response. As the nation seems to catch up to me, post-Presidential address, I think I’m honing in on why my reaction to COVID-19 has been so visceral.
First, let’s go back about two years: Myself and two friends are in Nepal, hiking from Lukla airport to Namche Bazaar. We barely made it to Nepal, with yours truly being snowed in the night before we left, stranded cars and lack of heat included. My wife, who at the time was 5 months pregnant, held down the fort while I was gone, but the experience of making bad decisions that could impact others left a lasting impression.
So, Nepal..
Post-hike, and back in Kathmandu, we got adventurous and went white water rafting. The drive out to the river was a bumpy 3 hours. It was an experience, but nothing compared to what would happen half-way downriver: The raft flipped, one of our friends broke his leg, and the next 6 hours were the the most scared I’d had ever been. (There’s nothing more terrifying than needing medical attention in a country where you don’t speak the language, and you’re not sure where medical care can even be found.)
Of course, all’s well that ends well: We made it back to a hospital, found some crutches and medicine, and made in back home for proper medical care. Two years later, it’s a good story to tell at at parties, none worse for wear.
However: I’m mindful that in the span of 10 days, I had put my life in serious danger far more than once. Rafting and strenuous hiking but my friends lives in danger. Snow put mine and my wife’s at risk. And if I went, not only did I leave my friends and family behind, but also my unborn daughter. A sobering thought for any to-be parent.
The result of the Nepal trip was my being ever more mindful and aware that the crazy shit I do directly impacts others – others who maybe aren’t even sure why their lives may have be altered at all. It was important for me to limit this risk, and ensure that I did all I could to provide safety and security for myself and my family.
And so here we are today, with a global pandemic on our hands, and nobody quite sure how to handle it (at least in the US.) We’re all faced with tough decisions, and our enemy is an invisible virus. There is nothing we can physically point to and say “avoid that!” Instead, all we have are guidelines, suggestions, and maybe the occasional poorly-worded mandate.
It has felt that we are at the same time all in this together, and desperately alone to handle “what is best for our families.” What is best for my family in times of uncertainty? I’m not sure I know. Incredibly difficult questions inform the suggestion to “do what’s best”:
- Do we take our daughter out of daycare? If not now, might we have to in the future? Is that a risk we’re willing to take?
- In lieu of daycare, who will take care of the baby? How will we work and watch her during the day? Who can we ask for help? What happens when that help runs out, or need help of their own?
- Financially, are we OK watching our 401Ks and 529s absolutely get destroyed?
- How will COVID-19 impact our efforts to sell and purchase a home?
- What happens if we get sick? How will we self-quarantine? Who will be able to bring us food? What happens to the baby? What happens to us?
And so on…
I tend to believe that I and the people I surround myself with are rational, thoughtful individuals. We kid ourselves at times that we’re in total control of everything, that life is always good, but I think we all know that we fail, we stumble. I worry that COVID-19 is our collective stumble, as a nation that is. I worry that we’re not ready for this. But of course, I also worry that I’m the dumb one; I’m the one overreacting. Hell of a time to have such a complex.
I once stumbled across a series of posts detailing Search & Rescue missions. In one post, the author noted that people who find themselves lost and in life-threatening situations rarely got there because they made one bad decision. Instead, they made lots of little decisions that compounded as the situation worsened. Since Nepal, I think of this often. Today, it feels incredibly relevant.
We have, over the next few months, the ability to make a lot of small decisions. Decisions we may feel aren’t a big deal – to wash our hands or not, to skip going out to dinner, to avoid food shopping during peak hours. These decisions will compound rapidly, and may ultimately determine the total cost of COVID-19. It is this idea – that we’re all deeply trusting each other to make good decisions – that keeps me up at night. To be clear, it isn’t distrust of you that keeps me awake, but rather the weight of my own decisions that must be made.
If you’re nervous about COVID-19, you’re right to be: This is a big fucking deal. But don’t panic. If you’re nervous, you’re on the right track: Listen, think, and then respond to your nervousness. Do what you feel is best for you. But also do what you feel is right for us.
To good health & long lives.