Public health officials are telling us that, in the face of the COVID omicron variant, we need to go back to earlier pandemic protocols for a bit. Omicron appears to be both more contagious and kinder to human lungs (“appears to be” because this is science, and we’re still learning, and if you’re uncomfortable with uncertainty I feel a little sorry for you) than previous variants.
I can count the people I know who’ve contracted COVID since Christmas, but I’d need both hands. All of them wore masks in public, and all were vaccinated and boosted. Most of them caught the virus from asymptomatic loved ones at family gatherings. None of them are foolhardy.
(If you spent New Year’s Eve on your couch in your pajamas, come sit by me. Funny thing is, the evening wasn’t much different than previous NYE’s, other than we treated ourselves to shrimp and watch Andy Cohen be overserved on CNN. Whee!)
Here in dreary New England, I do not look forward to shutting down. I hate the isolation and the repetitive nature of the days, but you know what? I’ve done it before. I can do it again. I bet you can, too.
I’m back to hunkering down. Studying birds online via Cornell. Daily walks with our dog. Yesterday my spouse woke up feeling lousy and developed a fever which broke at 11 pm. Grateful we have space for quarantine. Lonely but surviving. Hoping if enough of us stay involved we come out of this with a functioning democracy. We can do this.
Who could know after 50 years of marriage, we were confined to the same air.
I breathed it in and fell in love again.