What If We're Done With COVID-19 But It Isn't Done With US?

Being sick of the virus doesn't mean it's going to magically disappear

A week-and-a-half after testing positive for COVID-19, I’m sorta/kinda/maybe beginning to feel something close to human again. I’m no longer positive, but I’m not out of the woods. I still have a sore throat, the fatigue is epic, the dizziness comes and goes, and I’m sleeping as I’ve never slept before.

Erin was filling in at a hospital in Seaside for a couple of weeks, so I was home by myself for the week I was ill. Unable to concentrate on anything long enough to do any reading, I watched television for 14-16 hours a day. I watched six soccer games one day, which, as much as I love the game, was a bit much even for me.

By Friday, I was feeling well enough to drive down to Seaside to join Erin for a long weekend. This morning, I took Magnus for a very slow walk that was all of a mile- and that felt like tremendous progress.

For two-and-a-half years, I managed to avoid COVID-19, and then, just as I was beginning to feel as if I might be bulletproof, it caught up with me. And when it did, it kicked my ass. I’m not ashamed to admit to thinking that if this had happened to me pre-vaccine, it might have killed me. I don’t know that for sure, but if this virus can knock me down after four vaccinations, I hate to think what it might have done if I’d refused them.

I don’t want to be dramatic about my experience, but this was serious. I haven’t been in the best physical condition for the past few months, and I still have my 40 pounds of COVID lockdown weight hanging around. Oh, and I’m not getting any younger. Put all that together, and it hasn’t helped me bounce back quickly.

Erin and I took Magnus for a walk on the beach on Friday afternoon. I lasted maybe half a mile before I had to stop. I was exhausted, dizzy, and felt as if I’d run a 10k. Saturday and Sunday afternoons were slight improvements, and this morning I got my mile in. It doesn’t feel like much, and it isn’t, but it’s progress.

I just have to keep working my way back.

What fascinates me now is how we as a society have chosen to deal with COVID-19. We’ve essentially decided to pretend that it no longer exists, even though whatever strain that’s out there now is at least as and probably far more contagious than anything that’s come before. People are still infected with COVID-19 and dying from it, but how much do we hear about it? Since home testing kits diagnose most cases, and few of them make it to a hospital, we can’t know the actual numbers.

So does a pandemic disappear if we pretend it’s no longer a threat? Does it cease to endanger public health if we stop the practices drilled into us pre-vaccines (wear a mask, maintain social distancing)? And if we don’t test for COVID-19, can we call it a bad cold and be done with it?

I went to an indoor concert about a month ago. There were probably 2-3,000 people jammed into a tiny club for three hours or more, with almost no one wearing masks. That was more than I could handle, so I wore a mask during the show. It just didn’t seem to make sense to be in that environment when the Multnomah County Health Department declared the county a high-risk area for COVID-19.

Ah, the denial, it is strong….

Sure, I get it; at some point, people get tired of precautions and fearing something they can’t see. So they want to get on with living their lives. But what happens when people decide to get on with life but the threat is everpresent? What happens when people are done with COVID-19 but COVID-19 is far from done with them?

The problem, of course, is that COVID-19 is far from being over. It’s not done with us. I’ve heard rumblings about a third booster coming down the pipeline, perhaps as early as this fall. Eventually, the protection we’re receiving from the two shots and two boosters will fade, and we’ll be close to returning to where we were in early 2020.

Sometimes I question whether we’ve learned anything- and I include myself in that. It’s easy to get lazy, to lose sight of what it is we’ve been fighting since February 2020. It’s easy because our adversary is invisible and, to many, imaginary. There are those among us openly hostile to those wearing masks and others who bully those who mourn loved ones lost to COVID-19.

This pandemic has, in many respects, brought out the best in us. Unfortunately, it’s also brought out the worst and enabled those who take enjoyment from the pain and suffering of others. We can lay part of that to the political climate extant in America over the past few years, but some people have decided to allow their dark side free reign over their impulses.

We’ve lost over one million of our fellow compatriots to COVID-19, which should be a universal cause for sadness and mourning. Yet, despite this, some refuse to believe that COVID-19 has killed that many people. Instead, they think they died of other causes and that COVID-19 wasn’t a factor.

The skepticism of the public health Ph. D.- wannabes aside, the past two-and-a-half years have been a terrible time for Americans from all walks of life. COVID-19 hasn’t discriminated against anyone, but it loves people who don’t believe in it and refuse to get vaccinated. Call it natural selection or what you will, but disbelief does not protect those who scoff at the virus, making them easy and deserving targets.

I’m grateful for those I know and love who’ve had the sense to get vaccinated and boosted. But I’m also frightened for those in my family who’ve refused to get vaccinated. I worry about what might happen to them if they become infected, and I’m concerned about the impacts on their families.

I feel incredibly fortunate. I’ll eventually recover and hopefully be back to where I was and hopefully even better. Will those who haven’t been vaccinated be able to do the same?

When COVID-19 finally goes away, will we have learned anything?