Just like anyone with any access to the Internet, my awareness of the coronavirus started early this year. With talk of the virus spreading like crazy and the complete shutdown of whole cities in China, it was evident that this was a big deal. Yet the perceived physical distance between myself, in Lexington, Kentucky, and the virus, in Wuhan, China, made my concern more sympathetic than empathetic. It wasn’t until the shutdown of schools in my own state, and eventually in my own county, that the reality of the situation finally hit me.
I remember sitting in the bus on the ride home from a debate tournament, closely following both the news outlets and group chats discussing the chances of school closures. The news evolved quickly. Less than twenty-four hours later, I was walking through the halls, attending the final class of all my subjects until our return to school — though when that would be exactly, no one knew. Teachers discussed their plans for the next two weeks in shortened thirty-minute classes. The day went by rather quickly, with everyone, including the frantic teachers, promising to keep in touch. But what stuck with me more than my teachers’ instructions were the voices of my peers as they planned to meet up during this break from school.
What stuck with me more than my teachers’ instructions were the voices of my peers as they planned to meet up during this break from school.
Staying at home was relaxing at first, allowing me more time than I knew what to do with. I spent my days attending calls on COVID-19, completing assigned work as teachers figured out how best to shift to non-traditional instruction, catching up on sleep, and exploring new hobbies, namely embroidery. On the Thursday of the first week off school, however, my mother fell ill. My brother and I didn’t think much of it, assuming it was just a cold, and did all we could do to help out. We cleaned the house, cooked meals, and encouraged her to eat, though she had no appetite. We helped her take the medication she thought she needed, and assisted with physical pain in any way we knew how: heating pads, massages, Vicks VapoRub. Yet she continued to get worse and lay in bed throughout the next day. And the next. And the next. It was on Sunday that my mom raised concerns about this being something more than a cold.
We looked into all avenues to see what we could do to confirm her suspicion. In our search, we stumbled upon an NPR episode talking about a drive-through testing facility being set up in Beaumont, a nearby neighborhood, to test people for COVID-19. I wrote and sent an email detailing my mother’s symptoms. On Tuesday, we went in for testing. On Friday, we got the results. Positive.
As all this occurred, the three of us were cooped up in our apartment, taking care of each other. We went about our days as if all was normal, yet there was an unspoken feeling of uncertainty. Though food was still eaten, homework still done, and jokes still shared, our quarantined state remained at the back of our minds. I started to show symptoms on that Wednesday. When we got the results, we were not surprised.
Going through the next two weeks in quarantine was not something I was prepared for. The intense feeling of exhaustion, lack of appetite, and warm, sweaty evenings were things I could take. It was the tightness around the chest that would linger, not always intense but ever-present, that I would never want to repeat. Not only was there the physical discomfort from the virus itself, but also the psychological worry as more and more information from various sources kept pouring in. For the first few days of quarantine, a negative energy could be felt throughout our home. I still had schoolwork that I tried to get done, yet my mom needed us to help her. Balancing the two, whilst also feeling worse myself as the days went by, made me feel overwhelmed. To add on to all that, well-intentioned family members and friends would rattle off the latest statistics about case numbers, death tolls, and recovery figures, which only served to worsen our worry.
It was the tightness around the chest that would linger, not always intense but ever-present, that I would never want to repeat.
But it was those exact people that also had the most profoundly positive impact on my whole experience. This virus has revealed fundamental problems within many of the systems we view as permanent in our day to day lives, and the feeling of uncertainty as to what will happen after this is all over can easily drag one down emotionally. Everything feels very sudden with routines cast askew. There is no longer school every Monday, speech practice every Thursday, or meetings every Sunday. Staying home is no longer a choice, but a requirement. As a junior, senior year is no longer guaranteed. Neither is college nor anything else I had planned for. However, the strength of relationships within communities has also been highlighted. During our quarantine, we were met with a helping spirit from all corners. From the friends who would drop off food at our door when we needed it (including delicious sweet treats), to the congregation sending words of encouragement and regularly checking in on us, the love we experienced was profound.
As I got better and worked to write this article, I could not help but think back to those students planning to meet up during this break. I am at once both understanding of them (Who doesn’t want to spend time with friends?) and highly concerned. There is a narrative that teens around my age are not taking this virus seriously as it “doesn’t affect us”. Sadly, there are multiple examples showing this. Yet it must be understood that this virus is something that does affect us. Plans for this school year and what is to come are uncertain. Friends we see regularly are out of reach. Teens are not invincible when concerning COVID-19. We can suffer from this virus. I have done so.
It is easy to dwell on your own wants when you spend so much time alone, but it is best for us all to remember others who don’t have a choice, who still must go out and work in the front lines. The clerks at the grocery stores, caregivers within nursing homes, police men, firefighters, and doctors and medical professionals working hard with limited resources.
To support them best, we must follow what we have been instructed to do and maintain social distancing. Doing this not only protects you, but also those who you love. Simply put: “Stay home for those who can’t.”
