Calm Amidst the Storm

Covid drive-through testing tent at Riverton Hospital

The only thing constant about life is change.

Three weeks ago on March 1st--before all the insanity of Covid-19 hit the United States, before the shut-downs and social distancing, before the hoarding of toilet paper, water, and hand sanitizer--we took Kai into the ER at Primary Childrens. He had two different infections running through his body. One in his ear and another on the hardware of his MAGEC rods. They kept him at the hospital for a week. 

While everyone was starting to hoard supplies, we were working out schedules to take care of our children and spending most of our time in and out of the hospital. We didn't have time to panic or worry about some virus across the world that we thought would end up being more hype than anything. 

feeling better at the hospital

Friday, March 6th, Kai came home from the hospital. By the following Friday, all schools had cancelled school for a minimum of two weeks. All extracurricular activities cancelled, all church services suspended, and social distancing became a thing. 

Wednesday morning, the 18th, Utah experienced its biggest earthquake since 1992--magnitude 5.7--and the epicenter was about ten miles from our home. Thankfully, the damage was minimal: two small map tubes rolled from my bookshelf, and a package of diapers and a notebook fell off Kai's shelf. We have continued to feel aftershocks throughout the week, including one this very evening.

Yet, through all this upheaval, we remain optimistic. The pandemic is very real and we are doing our part to flatten the curve, but it is also giving us time that we wouldn't otherwise have in our busy lives. We laugh, play, take walks, watch movies, and do online schooling together. My girls are in year-round school and as of Friday, they are officially off-track until April 20th, so thus far they are only missing one week of school instruction.

chatting with friends

The girls have handled all the changes with the adaptability and spunk of youth. They love not having school, and hate not being able to play with friends. They are more worried about another earthquake than the virus. With the awesomeness of modern technology, Zuri spends much of her time video chatting with her friends. She is able to continue her karate through live video streaming through zoom, and for volleyball they have videos prerecorded to help the kids with technique. The girls' dance hasn't done anything yet, but they will put the girls' individual dance choreography online for them to practice in the next week or so. 

Kai even has homework along with school check-ups via email. We need to continue going to the hospital for weekly labs to make sure the infection in his rods is kept at bay. It's all a whole new temporary normal that we're navigating, and it hasn't always gone smoothly, but we're figuring it out as we go. 

With all that's happening right now it's really easy to get caught up in the anxiety of it all, and we are not immune. Most of the time covid-19 is just something in the back of my mind. But in the cracks between moments, fear of what's inevitably coming sets in. I've done the research. I've seen the graphs. I've watched the recordings coming from the overcrowded intensive care units in Italy. I've read the reports of doctors and nurses having to choose who has the most chance of recovering and treating those people, dooming the others because there are too many people and not enough resources.

working on school work

That could be us. It could be a choice between my grandparents or my son. We need to do our part to slow the curve so that our healthcare system is not over capacity. No, it doesn't stop the infection or the number of people who contract it, but it slows the rate so that everyone who needs care can get it. Thousands of lives can be saved if we slow the curve. But it will only work if the majority of people comply, and I know people--good, decent people--who won't, because their family is not "at risk," and they don't see anything wrong with socializing if everyone's "healthy." They don't understand--you can be a carrier for up to two weeks and not have any symptoms. It both infuriates me and breaks my heart. 

Then there is the other part of this that not many people are talking about. The virus is mutating. To my knowledge are at least two different strains, and younger people are starting to get sicker. An otherwise healthy woman in New Orleans died of covid-19, and she wasn't much older than me.

This is real. This is coming. And there is nothing I can do except hunker down and do my part in protecting not only my family, but my friends and neighbors, and all others around me. 

And that is some of the good that I have seen come out of this. I've noticed people have been friendlier--they'll smile and wave as we pass each other (at a respectable distance of course) on my daily walks. We appreciate everyone who has reached out to check on us; friends and family who live both near and far. We are very blessed to live in a community that truly cares, and be surrounded by so many wonderful people. We're all in this together, and I think we feel it. 

There's a sense of peace, and it calms the storm of fear that wants to rage.

I don't know what the coming weeks will look like. In many ways it feels like when Kai was first born--all we could do was manage one day at a time, until we realized a month had passed, then two, then a year. We are all going to need to support one another in the coming months, especially in the aftermath of the virus, as we pick up the pieces of our lives, our economy, and our dreams and start to put it all together again. May we all be a little kinder and lift one another through this.

As for me, I'm going to hold my little ones close and weather the days ahead. 

One at a time.