Facing pandemic persistence, I’ll spend where safety dictates policy

We have made it to August 2021. Sadly, the pandemic is not over, though the most vulnerable people in America have been tricked into behaving as if it is.

Decisions were made to re-open all venues while simultaneously dropping every protective precaution. Some of us believe that choice was precipitous, even reckless. I feel vindicated as my logic proves sound… but also so deeply disappointed.

I know I like redundancies more than most, but this seemed so obvious. “Better safe than sorry” may be trite, but it’s also wise where human lives are on the line.

How ’bout making one change at a time? After each change, observe the effect. It works for scientists, after all.

Oh, right, science is a tool for the liberal elite! Yet fools parroting such nonsense do it gasping through their fluid-filled lungs, crowding into our hospitals—institutions steeped in modern medical knowledge derived via the scientific method.

Some feel their lives aren’t worth living if they have to wear a mask to go shopping. Safety goggles, cloth face mask, and disposable gloves

I wonder how those precious snowflakes would hold up under conditions of true adversity. I imagine the oppressed population of Myanmar—or the people in Haiti or Tunisia, watching their fragile governments wobble under anti-democratic onslaughts—could offer lessons on what really constitutes a hardship to pampered American crybabies.

I would recognize that wearing a mask pales in comparison to being the target of genocide even had I never visited Auschwitz.

What a summer we could have had! If only we’d been cautious enough to resume access to theaters and restaurants, but with our masks in place for crowded, indoor conditions from the outset. It might have been the joyful reunion we all dreamed of during 2020’s isolation, loneliness, and despair.Woman hugs child

Hugging my grandma with a mask on didn’t lessen the joy of it. Visiting with my aunt over coffee on the patio instead of in the kitchen offered equal satisfaction. Espresso in demitasse cup on cafe table

Watching as my father’s “elective”—yet quality of life preserving—joint replacement surgery was postponed once, and then a second time, because no hospital bed was available was yet one more cost of the pandemic, but, this time, caused directly by bad actors, not a novel disease with unknown characteristics.

Now that stung.Analog wall clock showing 12:06

Frankly, I believe libertarian freedoms should be available… but only at a reasonable price. Partakers in those freedoms must give up the right to extort payment from the sensible majority.

Refusing vaccines? Fine, but wear a mask in public settings. Also, public funds—and even private insurance—should eventually cease to pay treatment costs incurred by those rejecting approved vaccines for endemic disease sufficient to be flagged by public health authorities.

The price of ignoring experts when an entire society experiences extreme events should be borne by those who choose to heed only their own counsel. That’s a fair trade off.

During outbreaks of any vaccine-preventable, endemic illness, refusniks must also give up the freedom to enjoy entertainment venues and public conveyances for all but essential purposes. Take your bus across town to work—while masked—sure, but recreational jaunts and all air travel unless, say, to receive urgent medical care out of state ought to be curtailed for those likely to spread disease.

NZ Chch bus MetroUnvaccinated kids should learn remotely unless masks are shown to be sufficient in preventing the spread of measles, chickenpox, the equally transmissible delta variant of COVID-19, and any future outbreak of similarly easily spread viruses.

If masks prove to work as well as that, I am 100% fine with unvaccinated kids—wearing masks—in schools forever. The point is to keep vaccine-preventable germs contained, not to dictate personal decisions that affect only oneself.

It should go without saying that the vaccinated should always be prioritized over the voluntarily unvaccinated when medical treatment becomes a scarce commodity that must be rationed. I hope and pray it doesn’t come to that, but, today, I fear for the people of Florida, Louisiana, and Arkansas. Mississippi and Alabama look pretty terrible, too.

Pandemic illness currently strains the pathetically insufficient “just in time” commercial hospitals in these and other states. An August 5th AP news story describes one Broward County hospital cramming beds into auditorium, cafeteria, and conference rooms to accommodate surging COVID-19 caseloads.

How pathetic that we allowed ourselves to fall back to this point more than a year after learning how and where this virus spreads!

Speaking to business owners and service providers, I reiterate that my personal spending will be concentrated in locations with high rates of vaccination. Pile of money

I will preferentially patronize restaurants and stores that demand proof of vaccination before letting anyone remove her mask.

It shouldn’t fall to commercial interests to manage a public health crisis, but dysfunctional politics brought us to that point. Re-opening—with precautions—allows for increased economic activity without excessive deaths. That’s the course I’ll vote for with my wallet.

Here’s hoping leadership by accounting departments can make up for the inadequacies of incompetent elected officials.

Satisfaction derived from one (novel) work in progress

Five weeks in, I’ve written 39,645 words. I’m working on a novel.

If I ever finish it, and then publish it, you should definitely read it.

39,645 ÷ 5 = 7929 words per week

7929 ÷ 7 ≅ 1133 words per day

Truthfully, I don’t know whether to crow about this rate of progress, or if I should be mildly—or wildly—embarrassed by my sloth. Remember, I’m a dilettante who hasn’t published much more than a blog.

Then again, the world can—and will—think what it wants. In the meantime, I shall carry on developing the imaginary universe I can’t help myself from inhabiting, trying to do justice to a scientific concept that my celebrated husband offered as a plot device.

I think it is working. The fact is ridiculously exciting.

On the evening of day 35, around page 170, I got to the good part. You know, that moment where a handful of threads are woven together, and one suddenly understands why we heard about this, then that, then the other thing… ?

Truthfully, I didn’t, myself, see all of it coming. My takeaway: writing fiction can be weird.

If I were a different kind of creature, perhaps I could keep up with regular installments for a diverting blog while crafting a novel clever people would feel compelled to read. My reality defies this notion. The same pool of energy feeds both projects.

Alas, poor readers! The novel wins.

Lately, the novel also encourages me to imbibe a glass of wine alongside the lighting of a five-armed, silver-plated candelabra from my parents’ 25th wedding anniversary, so it’s kind of a strange beast. Either that, or I am the odd one, but don’t you like knowing you are reading a work composed on a laptop by candlelight? That’s not just me, is it?

I’d love to share the recent story of “My First Flight in the Era of the Novel Coronavirus” (hint: uneventful) or “Flying vs. Amtrak Reality for Those Who Take Delta Variant Seriously” (hint: airlines impose mask regulations more seriously than train conductors), but I am forced to choose.

Happily, the kids and I have made it across the USA and back into the physical presence of my father. He needs an elective-yet-function-improving surgery, he was waiting to have family around to get the thing done, and it’s a Really Wonderful Thing that we are here to support him through the process.

Today we had to change the bed sheets prior to surgery and he started bathing with the special, sticky, infection-defying soap. Now, how do we keep the dog off his bed until the incisions heal?

It’s also downright bizarre to be anywhere other than where we’ve been for the past 17 months or so. How often are the rest of you realizing how definitely we are living through Interesting Times? How often do you give thanks for the fact that you’re still around to notice said fact?

My personal answer to that last one: at least once daily.

It’s almost definitely good for my family to have its paradigm shifted at this point. I know that I have become a creature who might just as well never leave the house at all, if left to my own devices. That could likely earn me some kind of diagnosis from the DSM if I were inclined to seek professional opinions on the subject.

I’m not.

Lacking that kind of openness to criticism, I still know I benefit from noticing what’s different here (time zone, state, county, population density) vs. what’s the same. The part where the kids and I are living with Dad’s pandemic puppy is a learning experience.

While I grew up with pets, the last time I lived full time with any was a pair of cats in the 1990’s.

I was really worried that Dad wasn’t training his dog, but the pup is much better behaved than Dad’s most comedic text messages suggested. Phew!

Fear not, blog-reading friends. I am alive, healthy, and grateful for both of these things to be true. Here’s hoping that soon I’ll be begging you, my favorite audience, for beta readers for a dys-/utopian novel. Is anyone game?

May you all remain healthier than the arborvitae my dad put in his yard right before temps topped 116º F here. He’ll be lucky if 2/5 survive the summer, I’d guess. God willing, the delta variant will remain less deadly than that ratio.

Celebrating full vaccination against SARS-CoV-2… with a mask on

Today, I celebrate the fact that I’m officially fully vaccinated against the novel coronavirus responsible for the pandemic and all of its miserable restrictions. It’s been 14 days since my second Moderna jab.

I encourage everyone eligible and not medically contraindicated to pursue the same happy state.Person celebrating by blowing into unfurling pink butterfly party toy

The uncomfortable side effects weren’t the greatest thing ever, but they are long gone. My confidence, on the other hand, only grows stronger that I won’t catch or spread COVID-19 to those I love or innocent strangers.

My commitment to protecting others is a product of both my patriotismand my Jewish faith’s teachings on the inherent dignity and value of human life.

My behavior won’t change too much, however, given that I’m only the second person in our household of six people to achieve this milestone. My father-in-law, at a venerable age ≥75, was part of our state’s Phase II, given access to scarce vaccine appointments back in February.Patients during mandatory observation for side effects after coronavirus vaccination jab

Two thirds of us* have had second shots, and my youngest got his first jab within days of his cohort becoming eligible. The others in our household will reach full immunity over the course of the next four and a half weeks.

Knowing that even just the first dose of Pfizer vaccine reduces my youngest’s odds of symptomatic coronavirus infection by more than half, he will be able to rejoin his class for in person learning for at least the final couple of weeks of the school year.

What a blessing!School tents for COVID-19 - 1

It is especially poignant given my son’s love for this special school, which has been his academic home for more than half of his life, added to the fact that he’s moving on to his next level of education at a different institution in the fall.

Schools here rightly are still required by law to enforce masks for pupils indoors; my child will continue to wear a face covering at all times on campus, exceeding state regulations. He will continue to take care to keep social distance inside as well.

Because a frail, ill, elderly member of our family—and household—has a history of severe anaphylaxis triggered by medications and vaccine components, protecting ourselves from suffering severe COVID-19 is great, but not sufficient. She remains at elevated personal risk if she catches the coronavirus, yet unprotected by anything except her family’s caution.Safety goggles, cloth face mask, and disposable gloves

We will continue to guard against even mild infection, practicing indoor masking and social distancing in all public places, because no one knows yet exactly how contagious a vaccinated, asymptomatic or mildly symptomatic carrier really is.

Breakthrough infections after vaccination are rare and not usually severe, but they definitively exist and have caused some to suffer for prolonged periods of time.

I’m thrilled and grateful to live in a wealthy, powerful nation wherein my family enjoys the fruits of stupendous work on the part of scientists and clinicians fighting a novel disease. I understand and agree with the conclusion that a majority of fully vaccinated people can safely modify some behaviors at this point in the pandemic.

I also offer our situation as a cautionary tale to all those mocking and minimizing maintained vigilance even as rates of infection, hospitalization, and death improve. We aren’t just paranoid hypocrites who doubt or misunderstand science.

We are multi-generational households. We are people with allergies and other uncommon health conditions causing variable responses to vaccines. We are concerned parents, children, and grandchildren. We are traumatized family members of victims who lost lives to the pandemic.Woman hugs child

By most measures, COVID-19 is retreating. I celebrate that fact, too! My gaiety is merely tempered by the facts of my personal situation.

People of goodwill must continue to support each other—and everyone else in our communities—as each family negotiates the tail end of their own version of the pandemic. That’s how we recover, as a society.

I know of no greater way to honor those who’ve suffered, and those we’ve lost, than to carry on leading a joyful life including generous quantities of service and gratitude.

That process will look different from house to house, and community to community.

That’s not just okay, it’s a magnificent reflection of the vibrant diversity of modern America. Getting back to normal isn’t the best we can do; let’s move forward together to an even better future.

Respecting that others may do so differently from you is a powerful step in that direction.

Functional democracy—or effective government in a democratic republic such as the United States of America—depends upon civic virtue. Failing to protect others within my community would undermine everything I believe to be right, just, and good.

* i.e., us = my household

Teenagers such as my kids already have lower rates of severe or even symptomatic infection with this virus. In a population aged 65+, the first dose of either mRNA vaccine was protective against COVID-19 serious enough to require hospitalization at a rate of 64%. Subsequent studies show 12-15 year old adolescents mounting greater antibody responses to these vaccines than even young adults 16-25—who responded more vigorously than elders—likely due to the more robust immune system of youth.

COVID vaccination: appointment & liberation

Add me to the ranks of the partially vaccinated in America. Today, I received dose one of two of the COVID-19 vaccine available at a location convenient to my suburban home. Within three miles, which is “reasonably close” even by my auto-phobic standards.

Redacted official CDC COVID-19 Vaccination Record CardMy state redefined its list of eligible health conditions the day before my turn would have been due anyway. I don’t believe that the state knew* I went from one to two eligible conditions overnight—the system asked one to confirm only from the original list of “certain medical conditions” as I pre-registered—but that change moved me up one “priority group” within the current phase of eligible citizens.

I pre-registered with the state’s mass vaccination system on Sunday, receiving notification three days later that my chance at snagging an appointment would open up within 24 hours. I was offered a turn to register for a mass vaccination site appointment at 09:49 on Thursday. I had until Friday at noon to take advantage of the option.

As it turns out, the state system only offered me appointments over 20 miles away. Given my continuing ability to shelter at home, I almost left it at that, planning to wait for my next invitation and hope it would be for a local site. Our state doesn’t have truly centralizing vaccination booking, however; the state system only books one in to seven major centers churning out thousands of doses per day.

I tried “the other way” of booking Thursday evening, i.e., last night. A local physician’s group had three appointments open for this morning. I took that as a sign that it really was my turn to book. Screen shot of COVID vaccine appointments confirmed at CVS PharmacySomeone else I know with one underlying medical condition was able to book via the CVS Pharmacy website. That screen grab makes a prettier picture than the black and white, all text shot from the doctor’s office where I went, so here is a CVS vaccine jab appointment confirmation. In both cases, the second, follow up appointment was automatically scheduled by the computer for the correct (3-4 week) wait after dose one, but the doctor’s office only shared my next appointment time with me after I’d arrived in person.

To be honest, I agonized a bit over whether it was really fair for me to take my place in line for the shot. There are many people who are more exposed than I am due to their working or living conditions. There are many people older, sicker, and at greater risk of dying from COVID-19 than I am. Those realities were reflected, however—if, perhaps imperfectly—by the state’s eligibility phase system.

I did not wangle, finagle, lie, cheat, or even fudge to make my appointment. I read and re-read the eligibility criteria, looking for any reason to find against the evidence that my government thinks I’m at higher than average risk from COVID.

I’m grateful to the reporting I’ve read in a variety of newspapers and magazines about the ethical considerations of “taking a shot from someone who needs it more.” The consensus is: if you meet the qualifications for the shot for which you’re signing up, it is your turn, and it is just and right to take it. To date, about a quarter of adults in my state have had their first shot, and closer to one third are fully immunized, similar to the national average.

No amount of logic erases the tendency to worry from those of us who are anxious, but I do fret less when I can ease the factual side of the equation. My worries on this issue are also alleviated by living with my frail, elderly mother-in-law. Her history of reacting to multiple vaccines and medications combined with a specific diagnosis she’s dealing with now makes her vaccination perhaps more risky than doing nothing.

It helps that my father-in-law has been fully vaccinated for awhile, reducing the threat that her closest companion could unwittingly expose her to the virus, but the kids’ gradual return to public life is already beginning. We’re scheduling dental cleanings again after a year of neglect, and some of DS1’s summer courses seem likely to include in person labs. We hope that DS2 will be get to finish out the year back with his friends at school.

With case rates coming down and vaccination ramping up, it no longer feels fully fair to expect my kids to give up all outside activities due to the adults’ choice to live in a multi-generational household. Even my introvert has confessed to missing the act of going somewhere to attend a class; my extrovert seems quite eager to start at a bigger, busier, fully “in person” school next fall.

Alaska Air account view showing trips in December 2021It may have been premature, but one of the first things I did, after booking my vaccine appointment, was to jump right onto Alaska Airlines’ website. I booked tickets—based upon DS2’s new school calendar—for us to spend Christmas 2021 with my dad in the state where I grew up.

Dad’s latest favorite joke is that he’ll “be immortal in just x more days,” where x stands for his distance from reaching a full two weeks after his second dose of the Moderna vaccine.

“I’m not sure that’s quite the right word, Dad,” I tease him. “Maybe don’t take up skydiving.”

“I-m-m… something!” he responds. “I’m pretty sure they said immortal.”

Somehow, he didn’t appreciate it when I suggested the word he was looking for could be “immature!” Not at his age, he retorts.

God and the pandemic willing, we will be heading west to see Dad over the summer, but I’m not quite ready to book an airline ticket for June just yet.

December, though?

I’ve got high hopes for December. And now I’ve got some airline tickets to go with them.

* I did add a comment to my submission stating that I was unclear whether to use their provided list vs. the new one the governor had just announced. It is possible that a human “corrected” my data after the fact, nudging me closer to the head of the line. I suspect that this comment box exists primarily to help the software developers improve the system, however. A newspaper article I read today suggests to me that availability is simply opening up across my state.

Here I must acknowledging that those rates have remained stubbornly higher than everyone had hoped due to the emerging COVID-19 variants, and that cases are currently kind of level in our own community. I speak more to the overall trend from the winter peak. We remain a “more cautious than average” household, I believe, even with 1/6 of our number fully immunized and 1/6 of us partially so.

The fact that many airlines have moved to discontinue the practice of charging exorbitant change fees to modify tickets helped tremendously in my decision to book now.

Sending “filthy” photos to my kids when their chores demand attention

My kids have chores. They are both old enough now to lend a hand that’s actually useful. They ought to be able—and feel obligated—to assist in the smooth running of our household.

And, for the most part, they do. With some nagging required, absolutely, but they are good kids and reasonably helpful.Boy holding stick vacuum as if cleaning the floor

I’ve posted before about the best option I’ve found for keeping the kids on track with relatively less nagging: a chore checklist. Where I used to have one master list for the whole family, the enforced togetherness of the pandemic—and our loss of our usual paid help for the heavy cleaning—has prompted me to print a separate list for each kid, and even a new list* to remind my husband of the jobs I need him to cover.

For your reading pleasure, here are copies of my teen’s daily chore list and the middle schooler’s version. By all means, use them to prove to your own kids that they are not, in fact, the only children forced to help out around the house. Or, if your kids work much harder than mine, please let me know in the comments so I can educate my own wee punks the next time they complain about sweeping the kitchen.

And speaking of crumbs…

Visible dirt, crumbs and spills on white tile floorAm I the only mom in America whose family seems oblivious to visible schmutz on the floor?

If you peeked at the chore chart PDFs, you may have noticed that both kids are assigned to sweeping the kitchen tile once per day, and that it’s a totally separate job from plain old vacuuming which is also meant to include the kitchen. This isn’t because my standards are all that high; it reflects the reality that the dust bunnies threaten to outweigh we mere humans on a regular basis.

NZ Brush Co bannister brush used for sweeping up kitchen crumbsThe floors really are pretty filthy in spite of all of these assignments and my own quick swipes with broom, brush, or hand vac a few times each day. This fact leads inexorably to my new habit of sending the kids “filthy” photos via text message with disturbing regularity. Here are a few examples:

There’s hardwood with dust bunnies

dust, hair, and an old price tag on hardwood floor near chair leg

Corners with cobwebs very tricky to photograph spider silk, by the way

Cobweb formed in corner near door jamb over tile floor

And the supposedly “dusted” windowsill covered in not just pollen, but also an unused alcohol wipe still in its package that left a visible outline when shifted! Can that even be a mere week’s accumulation?Topical wipe covered in pollen on pollen-coated windowsill near outline from the shifted packet

I’ll spare you the picture of the toilet visibly in need of scrubbing. Even the teen objected to that disturbing image, asking me if sending it was really necessary.

“Do your chores,” I replied. “Believe me, I wish I hadn’t had to see it either!”

The word "dust" scraped onto a dusty black surfacePerhaps it is an extreme reaction on my part. Should I stop sending them the filthy photos?

Then again, here’s a squeaky clean picture that still led to nagging:

Bright blue plastic USB drive housing in pile of suds viewed through washing machine door

That turquoise blue plastic visible in the suds inside my washing machine is a thumb drive someone forgot to remove from his pocket before dumping clothes in the laundry.

Not sure that’s what’s scrubbing your files is supposed to look like…

A persistent, unequal distribution of household labor has pounded the mental and physical health of mothers during the COVID pandemic. The demands I place on my kids to shoulder their share of the load are my reaction to that. I think it is a rational one.

Sometimes, I give in to the urge to take over a job myself, unable to stand literally! on that sticky spot on the tile any longer, but, mostly, I squawk at the kids instead. It’s for my own benefit, of course, but it’s for their own good, too. Children who pitch in at home are going to become more useful adults. Printed instructions titled Housework is Hard! describing how to wipe kitchen counters and clean the microwave

Perhaps these boys I’m raising will grow up to be more equitable partners to their own spouses someday. That’s my hope. For the time being, I will keep nagging, provide clear instructions on how tasks can be done effectively, and remind my kids that they are valuable, contributing members of our family and household.

I’ll probably keep doing that via lots of dirty pictures.

* My husband’s list is pretty short as he already works something-teen hours per day in his full time job while also running a side hustle as a self-employed scientific consultant. I do need his help with the physically demanding tasks, such as vacuuming multiple floors with the full-size machine. (The kids just use the lightweight Dyson hand vacuum which doesn’t have the same power to tackle the *sigh* wall-to-wall carpeting as our plugged in, full sized Miele canister vac.) I’m not quite ready to watch the boys bash the woodwork with the machine, either.

DH’s new list does also include the task I need help with most: reminding the kids to do their own damn chores before he gives in to all of their demands for attention and snacks in the evening! It’s only fair that Dad take on his share of the nagging duties, though he’s better at science than he is at disciplining his own children.

For anyone who’d like to piggy-back on my step-by-step approach to getting effective assistance from older kids who might do a job half-heartedly without definitive instructions, here are links to PDF documents describing How to Clean the Microwave OvenHow to Wipe Clean the Kitchen Counter, and How to Clean the Bathroom. Inflict them on your own hapless helpers with my blessing!