The Pandemic – A Year Later

One year ago today, I’m pretty sure I was doing what I am doing right now.  Lounging in my Day Pajamas, feet up on the recliner, cat and husband nearby, staring out the window, pondering a pretty empty calendar. 

But a year ago, I was staring out the window riddled with fear and confusion.  Today I’m merely weary and mentally exhausted from a Year of Pandemic.

It is bizarre how normal “pandemic life” can feel these days.  Life of wearing masks and dousing hand sanitizer and stepping back from people and eating restaurant food in the car.  Life of not seeing family or being in an airport or hugging people outside my bubble (aka Rob).  All this weirdness seems normal now, automatic, routine.

Looking at my friends…whose unmasked smiles I desperately miss…there seems to be a shared weariness.  There is still laughter, but it is tired.  There is still joy, but it is cautious.  There is still life, but it is muted.

But slowly…thanks to astounding advances in the development and distribution of vaccines…some of “normal” is returning here in the Pacific Northwest.

Kids are back in school…sort of.  Restaurants have indoor dining…sort of.  Outdoor sports are allowing spectators…sort of.  Airports are getting busier…sort of.

Rob and I are seeing all of these changes from a distance.  For the past year, we have been very careful about not putting ourselves or others at risk of unknowingly transmitting COVID-19.  We have stayed away.  We have missed family celebrations.  We have declined invitations.  We have hermitted like introverted pros.  So until we both get vaccinated, Rob and I remain spectators of the rebirth of “normal” around us.

Early 50s is a very strange age to be right now.  It is old enough to acutely grasp the mortality of a pandemic yet young enough not to have any conditions granting vaccine eligibility.  Gen-X gets short shrifted yet again.  Rad.

When the vaccines first came out in January, I literally teared up with shared joy when I saw photos of healthcare worker friends getting their first doses of hope.  I remained relieved and celebratory as elderly friends and family got in line.  But over the past several weeks, as eligibility has expanded and backdoors have been discovered, I have struggled.

I have struggled not to feel left out.  I have struggled not to feel jealous.  I have struggled not to be judgmental.  I have struggled to celebrate with my newly vaccinated friends.  I have struggled to enjoy their social media posts of travel and family visits.  I have struggled to be a 53 year old and not a 5.3 year old.

I read an op-ed article a few days ago written by a 40-something Seattle Times writer who is feeling similarly.  He assured me I am not alone.  In fact, millions are right there with me experiencing what has even been given a name:  vaccine envy.  Even the fancy people at Harvard Medical School have it.  (Check out this article).  I guess that makes me feel better?

When the day finally comes – the glorious day of freedom and hope and hugging my parents and eating in a restaurant…the day I finally get that highly coveted shot in the arm – I will absolutely write about it.  I expect it to be emotional and unquestionably blog-worthy. 

However, sensitive to others still forced to press their noses against the pharmacy window, I won’t post my musings until we are firmly in the All-Skate Phase of vaccines.  That triumphant phase when anyone who wants a vaccine can get one.  That phase when everyone is finally invited to the party.  That phase when life really truly might start returning to something resembling normal.  That phase that I have every hope and expectation is only matter of weeks or a few months away.