Hope in the time of COVID

The cloud of doom and depression hanging over the world for the last six months feels permanent. There are days when a patch of sunlight shines through, moments when we are able to feel normal, connected with each other. Then something happens to remind us how strange our world has become. The latest example is school. Whether to have our children attend school in person, or try to learn remotely, there is no consensus. People have opinions, and they are all rigid, unforgiving, and universally unproven.

“Kids can’t get sick from COVID.” 

“Many kids are in daycare now, schools won’t be worse for them.”

“Way more people die from influenza, COVID isn’t a real concern.”

And on the other side:

“If schools are opened, teachers will die.”

“Even if children don’t become seriously ill from COVID, attending school will spread the virus to older family members, who are more susceptible.”

“If we don’t continue distance learning, all the work and expense put into these programs will evaporate.”

You can’t please everyone

No matter what course we choose, many people will be unhappy with it. That’s going to be the legacy of this pandemic, somehow framed as a political issue. Intolerance and misery. Between the seclusion forced upon people by the pandemic and the political divide with which it is associated, people are unhappy.  Depression, anxiety, obesity, alcohol abuse, all appear to be rising. It is a sad time indeed.

I would like to propose that we owe it to ourselves to control our outlook. Just like forcing ourselves on the treadmill, we need to think about the things that make us happy. Instead of angrily reading the Facebook rants of those with different opinions, shut off the social media.  Read to your kids. Clean the house. Call your mom. But most of all, stop thinking about yourself. Focusing inward is a recipe for misery. Think about other people.  See the promise in them, think about how you can help them. I firmly believe that’s the first step to pulling yourself out of the COVID funk.

I was at work at the hospital yesterday, and I opened a fetal ultrasound to read. Peering at the images of this tiny baby, warm and safe in her mother’s womb. Every part of her was perfect. Brain, heart, kidneys, limbs. All as it should be. I checked the gestational age, and was moved when I read the EDD, the estimated date of delivery: 2/20/2021. This perfect little baby will enter the world next year.

I let my mind drift along that path. What will the world be like on 2/20/2021? I tell you this: the world will still be here. The sky is not falling. Yes, we have been assaulted by this terrible infection, but we have before, and we made it through. Polio, smallpox, measles, mumps, rubella. All have been cured. SARS, MERS, swine flu, West Nile, Zika, ebola.  These have been survived. Even HIV has been converted into a chronic illness. We are smart, and we are committed.  This disease will fall before our medicine. Maybe even by February 2021.

Avoid the stories that make you sad

Stop reading the pseudo-news blurbs on the internet. So what if people can be reinfected? So what if dogs and lions and hippopotamuses can get COVID?  So what if some people develop lasting effects from a COVID infection? Lots of illnesses have lasting effects. Remember scarlet fever? Or post-streptococcal glomerulonephritis? These things are all around us, and always have been.  Get over it. Stop fixating on the fear being pumped into your brain by the media. Shut off your phone and take away the power of those who want you to keep nervously clicking on their ad-ridden stories.

Instead, how about you read a book? A book with no educational qualities. One full of shooting spies and heated romance and fun. Go bake a pie.  Make a margarita and drink it while sitting in the shade. Listen to an album that you loved in high school.  Give your brain a rest.

And if none of that works, go buy a puppy. Then you’ll know misery, when he eats your shoes and pees on the leather couch.