The story of one of us: Will our brain ever forget coronavirus?
2020-04-14 21:30:51
TiranaPost
According to some reports, coronavirus lasts "up to three hours in the air, up to four hours in copper, up to 24 hours in cardboard, and up to 72 hours in plastic." But no one seems to have studied another important aspect: how long COVID-19 is planning to live in our brains.
Assumptions are: forever.
I remember the week I realized that coronavirus had become the only thing I could think of. It was around March 8th. I had been informed by the American Conservative Union that a participant in his annual conference had tested positive for the virus. The CPAC, for knowledge, is a gathering of devout Trumpists; I participated as a journalist. March 8 was also when I started keeping my kids at home after they were asked not to go to school. After that it happened quickly that there was no talk of anything other than coronavirus. On March 13, the coronavirus was everything I read, although it still felt unreal. I remember a special part of a page about coronavirus testing in South Korea, and it looked like something out of a science fiction movie, with nurses wearing protective gear standing next to people's cars while made tamptons. Now I’m just jealous of their approach to testing and it’s just one of the images that constantly went through my mind, like a repeat montage.
I live in New York, Wuhan, USA, so it makes sense to think only about coronavirus now. The death toll is in the thousands. Our roads are empty except for occasional ambulances. Restaurants have been closed since March 17; schools have been closed since March 15. The things used to make our lives great - good food, music and theater - now reach through transportation or screens. Here we are getting used to coronavirus.
The coronavirus is eclipsing everything else that would have our attention. Social media is full of people documenting their experiences with it, and even giving recommendations for the movies we should watch. It seems like 9 out of 10 titles start or end with "In the Coronavirus Era." We can see an infinite number of games and documentaries again, but our brain is turned into a single channel: pandemic.
The coronavirus is different from anything we have ever experienced. The closest similar outbreak of the disease to the masses was the 1918 flu pandemic, which was 102 years ago and in an era before it was possible to have Twitter. Most of the people who have lived it have died. So far, the biggest disaster I had ever experienced was 9/11, which was 20 years ago. And even that was different. We refer to it as 9/11 because it happened in a single day; the effects are still being felt, but no one is talking about 9/12 or 9/13. The coronavirus will never have a day on the calendar. We have no idea when it will end.
I think that’s what my brain is looking for: an end. I can’t think of anything else until I know when this will end or even what “this” is. So, instead, I’m surfing Twitter, reading instructions on how to buy groceries or the number of dead. There is no room for another topic, there is no room for another opinion. Not until I understand how to find the meaning of something that has never happened to me or someone else I know. Not until I learn how to live in a world that is largely closed. It’s like being in love or like a terrible separation - your mind is drawn back to that one thing, killing the mind of how it’s possible for one moment to feel one way, and another, life was different. Most of us will change forever, as this pandemic progresses by burning life and work, like a slow-moving forest fire or an explosive car crash. How can we not see each other?
Our government estimates that about 100,000 - 250,000 people will die from coronavirus. As of this weekend, the state of New York counted 4,376 lost lives. It is difficult to gather the mind after this loss. It is difficult for any of us to process this kind of loss. Even if you don’t lose any relatives or a friend, a loss like this is collective.
So I keep thinking about it, hoping it will somehow start to make sense to me. I read that people who have lost loved ones have to wait up to two weeks to bury them.
In 12 or 18 months, we hope there will be a vaccine. When that happens, we will have time to mourn. Then, we’ll wait one more time in dense queues at Starbucks and complain about the mail. We think about the things we need to do. An hour will pass and then two and then a week, and we will realize that with a shake that we have time without thinking about it. Until then, everything is just for coronavirus, all the time.
* Written by Molly Jong-Fast, editor of The Daily Beast. Translated by Glamor
