Who had “global pandemic” on their predictions for
2020?
*crickets*
Yeah, me, too. As I
followed the pandemic from Wuhan, China to my home turf, it has been the world of
science fiction authors and dystopian fatalists. The entire world captured by a tiny ball of
protein. People afraid to leave their
homes without face masks and gloves.
Hand sanitizer flying off the shelves.
Radio shows discussing how to decontaminate their groceries and
themselves.
Surreal, right? Well
for me, it’s just Tuesday. Or Wednesday.
Or every day.
My life revolves around elaborate decontamination rituals,
making sure that I do not get infected by the bug du jour. Washing my hands to the point of cracked skin
is an every day routine, as are multiple showers a day and constant
laundry. Touch is something I often fear,
as it might contaminate me with dirt and germs, to the point where an innocent
brush of a door handle or a coffee cup has me rushing to the bathroom to wash my hands. Sound familiar?
The difference is that I have a diagnosis—obsessive-compulsive
disorder—that generates my fear and anxiety.
In “normal” times, I’m considered an outlier, having an unrealistic
worldview, unable to sit still until every germ and bug is vanquished, a “germophobe.” It’s a world where half my energy every day
goes to washing and decontaminating and figuring out how to keep people outside
my personal bubble, all in an effort to “keep calm and carry on” with a normal
life.
Then a novel coronavirus jumps from a bat to a human, and we’re
wearing gloves and sanitizing door handles and wiping down our groceries before
we put them in the car. We’re discussing
if uv light can decontaminate, if our mail could make us sick. Stickers and tape dot the floors at the
stores that are open, reminding us to stay six feet apart, as public service
announcements blare over the loudspeakers, reminding us to wash our hands.
The fear and anxiety is real. Something that we cannot see, hear, taste,
smell, nor touch has killed more people in New York City than on 9/11. People are dying by the thousands in Europe
every day. Hospitals fill with patients,
unable to breathe. Others raging with
fevers and cough in their homes. Even
after 100 years of scientific discovery and Kuhnian paradigm shifts, the human
race is once again brought to their knees by a tiny little virus.
I was asked recently how the pandemic affected me, and I
replied that my life hadn’t changed all that much because I was already doing
the handwashing and the decontamination and the distancing and the sanitizing. The difference, actually, was that everyone
else was doing it, too. It’s like
everyone is looking at the world through my eyes and acting accordingly,
stressed and scared about something that is hard to show really exists.
In this dystopian society, I have found utopia.
Except that I’m out of disinfecting wipes and hand
sanitizer.
