Day 52

At 3 p.m. I checked nytimes.com and saw this: “Privately, administration projects daily deaths to nearly double in May.” “3,000 deaths per day are forecast as some states reopen.”

I read this, and I think of the medical staff who will need to care for these people and who will not be able to save them.

I think of the family members of people who are sick and dying. Of families who have more than one member sick or dying.

I think of my own extended family, of when we might be able to see each other in person. My siblings, my mom. Cousins, and grandparents.

Every day I can get through. I focus on what I am doing. Work, cooking, reading. But when I think of what is next, and for how long, and the unknowns, I feel angry. And sad. And frustrated. And scared. And bereft. Any one of these emotions swallows me up. Sometimes they all swarm at once.

Day 53

It is only Tuesday. This has been a long work week already. I’ve been a day ahead each day. And yet. It’s only Tuesday. I’ve been very short tempered the past few days. And feeling less optimistic than my usual. The news is grim. Yes, I can find encouraging news: Doctors are beginning to understand how to treat patients more successfully. There are many vaccine trials. The weather seems to have settled on spring. But I am having trouble living simultaneously with the knowledge that this new reality may last for years. Just typing those words is clunky. My fingers are resisting the truth.

I made tofu for dinner. That should be a mark of optimism. That I have tofu, because I friend bought some for me on Saturday.

I made cookies after dinner. I have eaten two.

I ordered more flour from a local coffee shop/bakery and can pick it up on Thursday.

I went for a walk this afternoon. My usual 4.5 miles. My legs felt heavy. My feet felt draggy. I walked very slowly.

It’s nearly 9 p.m. I’m almost finished with a book. I will try to recline in bed and read, sinking into a behavior so second-nature to me it might just belie the truth of the world we all are living in now.

One that has resulted in 3.7 million cases worldwide. 1.2 million cases in the U.S. States that are reopening or planning to reopen. Not enough tests available. Errors in antibody testing. News broadcasts full of reporters wearing masks, reporting nothing but pandemic-related stories. Relief, as I receive an email notification that my package (toilet paper) has shipped. A near-daily question that rises from within around lunchtime: Did I brush my teeth yet today?

Today I did. And then I did again. Also, I put in earrings for the first time in nearly eight weeks. These are the details I wanted to try to capture when I started writing here.

These are not the details I want to dwell on.

Stay safe, everyone.