Crying at the store, and sudden thoughts of mortality
To the best of my knowledge, I do not have Covid-19. I’ve been practicing social distancing, following hygienic practices and have no symptoms. I’m a type 1 diabetic, which is considered an underlying condition, and I’m older, so I must be especially careful in my efforts to stay healthy. If I’m a non-symptomatic Covid-19 carrier--there’s no way to know due to current testing rules--I want to keep others safe.
March 15th was the last time my husband Ken and I went to the grocery store, and we wore gloves and wiped down all the food when we got home. After that we decided to order groceries online, and either pick them up or have them delivered.
Outings considered the norm two months ago are out of the question. No trips to the YMCA to do Zumba Gold, but fortunately, YouTube provides some exercise videos that suffice. Ken rides his bike, weather permitting. Frequently we Facetime with our son Zach, who lives in the Midwest. I feel like a nag telling him how to be careful and what worrisome news I’ve read, usually things he already knows. But he indulges me saying, “Thanks Mom.”
The Zoom app, which I’d never heard of before, has allowed me to “attend” church services. It is deeply comforting to see my fellow parishioners and listen to our pastor’s timely messages. We’ve also “met up” with friends for Happy Hour chats. We show each other our beverages and snacks, check in to make sure everyone is doing okay. We talk about the news, and the staggering statistics of those infected and dying around the world. And we express gratitude for our health and for each other.
I’d been doing well coping until we did our first grocery pick up at Safeway. We parked in one of the designated pick-up spots and called the phone number on the parking sign. A young man answered and said he’d be right out. We popped the trunk and he appeared, put the groceries in the car, rapped twice and waved goodbye. As we drove away I cried. It was an odd moment to cry, but inexplicably shopping that way made the reality of the pandemic sink in.
A few nights later I woke up with a little cough. My throat felt scratchy, and I was sweating. Immediately my mind went to the worst-case scenario. Could this be the beginning of the end? I thought of all the things I wanted to say to the people I’ve known throughout my life. I wanted to tell Ken and Zach not to worry and that I would watch over them if I didn’t make it. I wanted to tell my sister, brothers, their spouses and their children that I was so glad they had been a part of my life. I wanted to tell friends that I love them and appreciate their acceptance of me. And to the whole world I felt like hollering, “I love you and I ’m sorry you have to go through so much pain and misery. To any of you that I have hurt in my lifetime I ask your forgiveness.”
There was so much I wanted to express, but it was the middle of the night. I got up, drank some water and eventually went back to sleep. The next morning, I woke up and felt fine, but the feelings I’d experienced haunted me.
Facing our eventual mortality is something we all must do. And this pandemic has forced that awareness upon all of us. In that process I hope we learn to be kinder to both ourselves and others. There’s really no better alternative.
Reach Columnist Mary Magee at marymagee@harbornet.com
This story was originally published May 6, 2020 at 9:37 PM.