It’s been 3 years, but I still feel cheated. I feel like my celebration was ruined. 3 years ago, the first person in the United States died of Covid-19. It just so happened to be the same day I was having my Cancer Free party. We rented a swanky hotel suite and stocked it with food, wine and boob-related party games. I had a friend come and lead a Paint & Sip Night. Every one of the humans there were by my side for one event or another, or all of them. I cried with some of them. I laughed with all of them. It was my way of thanking them for going on the journey after my lump in the road.
It was tainted, however, by this new unknown.
But on the way over, my husband said we needed to make sure we Lysol-ed the room. Door handles. All surfaces. Because we really didn’t understand what Covid was waaaaay back then (oh my gosh it seems like a lifetime ago).
Anyway, no one got sick and honestly there was so much wine, I cant remember if anyone even brought it up after we all first arrived, but it sticks with me today as unfulfilled. It wasn’t AS fun as it could have been. It wasn’t AS carefree as it could have been. I wanted all the weight to be lifted off my shoulders. For once in a long while, I wanted not to worry about something. But there it was, lingering in the background of everything (for about 12 more days, as that’s when most of the country went into lockdown).
To this day, I feel cheated. Because then we went into lockdown. We bought all the toilet paper. We bought all the cereal and water. We bought the masks. And then we stayed home.
My family stayed home for longer than most. In fact, we are still mostly home. When most kids went back to school, I homeschooled my kids because my husband did not trust that other kids and educators could keep Covid out of schools. We haven’t been on an airplane to see family for over 3 years. Instead, we rented an RV two summers in a row to travel around the country (from Seattle to Maine) to see family. It was exhausting. Yes, an adventure, but it was so hard watching everyone else go back to “normal” while we continued to live in our safe (yet isolating) bubble. Too many false positives on rapid Covid tests. Because we had to make sure no one in our lives got sick. Because there was too much unknow about the long-term effects (heart issues, brain fog, risk to organs). Because we are scared? Honestly, I am not sure we will ever stop being scared about something. And that’s the part that kills me – I went from being scared for a year about cancer. BOOM right into a pandemic. My heart hasn’t healed from my cancer journey, and I then faced an OCD husband in a world where he couldn’t control other people, so we bubbled us until we choked.
In a way, we are still living through the trauma of lockdown. While none of us have fallen to covid (yet – also KNOCK ON WOOD), we are still limiting our risk in our daily lives. Still wearing masks. Still limiting meeting with friends. No restaurants.
The whole situation is mentally and emotionally taxing. It’s been three years. Three years of trauma. And yes, while its not physical trauma, the mental and emotional effects eventually manifest into physical trauma. It's almost worse than my cancer journey.
Throughout this pandemic, I’ve been telling myself that it's only a matter of time that I can breathe easier about health issues. But now, it seems like I won't ever be able to breathe. And honestly there are days when I just sit down in the closest chair and wish out loud, with tears running down my face, that I could not worry about one thing for ten minutes of peace.
Maybe that day is tomorrow.
Comments