Wierdest Spring Break

If you had told me two weeks ago that I would be compiling a list of online teaching resources and trying to teach myself Zoom, Padlet, FlipGrid so that I can do my job from home, I would have said you were over-reacting.  Part of my brain’s protective strategy is under-reacting to danger.  When my principal asked everyone to bring their laptops home “just in case we aren’t allowed back in the classroom after Spring Break”, I chose to leave it there.  I figured it was more likely to get stepped on or spilled on in my house, and I never dreamed I would need a laptop with camera to teach my class from home, while trying to home school my own kids, because the global influenza pandemic came right up to our door.

It’s freaky how quickly those words have become part of our everyday language: influenza, corona virus, quarantine, self-isolation, social distancing.  “Stay home”, “stay safe”, “corona care” and many other hashtags and slogans are popping up.  The virus started in China (so far away!), then was discovered in Iran and Italy.  We told ourselves it wasn’t in Canada, then it wasn’t in B.C., then not on Vancouver Island, then not in our town.  Then news got out that people at a dental conference in Vancouver had contracted the virus, and several people I know had been to the conference, or been to see their dentist since they got back from the conference.  Soon there were cases in our town, and in a matter of weeks everyone has been affected by the virus in some way or another.  My husband’s friend got it (and survived).  My siblings are indefinitely laid off of work.  Many of  my friends do not have an income but are still trying to pay mortgages and other monthly bills.  Schools are closed indefinitely, so parents are trying to go to work, or work from home and juggle kids’ needs.  We are all isolated from face to face contact with our support system, except by phone/internet.

Meanwhile, since the virus is highly contagious, and in some cases deadly, we’ve become afraid of each other.  My family arranged to meet my husband’s parents for a walk in the forest, so that they could at least see their grandchildren, if only from a distance.  It was heartbreaking to prep the kids beforehand, “When you see grandma you can’t hug her, and you have to stay far enough away that your arms can’t touch her arms stretched out.”  We dance awkwardly around others, even if we aren’t sick, because we’re trying to respect this new protocol, to avoid being a link in the transmission chain.

Last week we decided to pack up and go to the family cottage, on an even more remote island, with no phone or internet, to try to ease some of our pervasive anxiety.  I have been waking in the night with nightmares that one of my kids is sick, or lying awake worrying about my siblings or parents.  During the day I wonder at every cough or sneeze (it’s allergy season), sore throat or headache.  Countless times a day I have to hold back tears for no apparent reason, or relax my shoulder when I realize they’re up around my ears. My husband’s brother and his two kids had decamped to the family property as soon as schools closed, to stay in their own cabin there.    My husband is a first responder, and has been going to tons of extra medical calls since the pandemic broke out, responding to people who thought they might have the coronavirus, but are probably experiencing the same psychosomatic symptoms we all are.   There was a tense conversation between the brothers about whether to let the kids play together, since in theory my husband could have been infected but not know it yet, and could have transmitted it to us.  In theory we could all have been carriers, viral bombs just waiting to detonate this whole branch of the family tree.  We traded “even if’s…” for a while, and decided to risk letting the kids play together, as long as they stayed outside.  But the risk made us all wary, and aware they there is no escaping the coronavirus now.  We are all trying to manage the risks with no precedent.  Worse, the risks we take affect not just our own health, but potentially the health of the whole community.  So while it’s tempting to justify going out, or visiting family, we are risking our lives, and the lives of others, when we do.