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Nobody knows what day it is anymore. I woke up Thursday morning disappointed that it was only Tuesday. Today, a colleague tried to schedule a meeting for yesterday. There is so much happening right now — and so little at the same time, as we all find ourselves confined to our homes — that it’s hard to keep track.
I only figured out what day it was this morning when my phone’s calendar alerted shortly after I woke up to remind me to leave some cash out for the housekeeper. The notification gave me a jolt: it was a time machine back to life before… this.
Just a few weeks ago, I found it perfectly acceptable — necessary, even — to welcome a person from a different household in a different neighborhood into my home to spend a few hours putting their bare hands on my things. Sometimes at the start, we’d stand a couple of feet from each other, and chat. Occasionally, if one of us was having a particularly hard day, we’d hug at the end of our conversation. And, after all of that, we would blithely go about our respective activities, neither of us wondering even once if a subsequent face touch might send one of us — or one of our loved ones — to the hospital with a deadly virus.
It sounds absurd when I write it out like that, but that’s how it is now.
Of course my housekeeper isn’t coming today. It’s too risky. I asked her last week if she wouldn’t mind staying home during this time, for her safety and mine. And today I set up a biweekly electronic deposit of her regular pay to help her through all of this until the time comes when I can welcome her back to work.
Here’s a whip-saw of news headlines from the past couple of days:
On Tuesday, the Olympics were cancelled. It’s only the fourth time that’s happened since the launch of the modern games in 1896. The first time was in 1916 during the first World War, and then it happened twice during second (1940, 1944). And now this.
Meanwhile, America’s president won’t stop talking about re-opening for business. Despite all the medical advisors in the world (literally) arguing to the contrary, he has decided that all will be back to normal by Easter. TBC, obviously. While I appreciate the power of optimism, I’m not sure that’s going to be enough here. The USA now leads the worldwide count, officially on Thursday becoming the nation with the highest number of the confirmed cases of the virus. By evening, that was 81,321 cases and more than 1,000 deaths.
The situation in New York is becoming increasingly desperate. Governor Andrew Cuomo was on television this week pleading for more ventilators. Red-faced, he implored the federal government to help him, saying his latest virus modeling indicates he is going to need 30,000 ventilators to keep the sickest patients people alive through the worst of this, which is predicted to hit right around Easter weekend. He has received 400 of the breathing devices from federal government agencies, which evidently have a stockpile in the tens of thousands. “What am I going to do with 400 ventilators when I need 30,000?” he told news cameras two days ago. “You pick the 26,000 people who are going to die because you only sent 400 ventilators.” He was so angry he got the math wrong by a “0.” He should have asked the president which 29,600 patients he would choose.
Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti last night warned that this city’s outbreak is on a similar trajectory to New York’s, only lagging by about six days. While Cuomo gets the Javits Center ready to receive a thousand Covid-19 patients, Los Angeles officials are identifying venues like Staples Center for this city’s temporary mass care facilities.
Elsewhere, medical professionals are planning for the worst. Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago revealed Wednesday that it has been discussing a do-not-resuscitate policy for infected patients — regardless of the wishes of the patient or their family members. This, in an effort to streamline impossible end-of-life decisions for staff.
In Canada, they’re doubling down on social distancing, with fines now threatened for people flouting social isolation measures (which I think we might as well start calling quarantine). Last weekend, the Ontario Provincial Police pointed to provisions under the Emergency Management and Civil Protection Act that is now in force in the region, and said individuals could face fines of up to $1,000, while corporations are subject to $500,000 penalties for breaking the rules.
And finally, in Mexico, government officials have been lagging far behind other regions in implementing protective measures. As recently as Sunday, President Andrés Manuel López Obrador, was urging people to continue going out and spending their money to keep the wheels of the economy turning. On Tuesday this week, the state finally delivered the guidance to close schools and limit gatherings to fewer than 100 people. (And if you’ve been following along for awhile, here’s a late-breaking newsflash: I talked to my Boomer mom yesterday and, after being tucked into her home now for 10 days of her two-week quarantine, she finally thanked me for convincing her to cut short her vacation in Mexico. Until now, she’s mostly been irritated that she was missing the last two weeks of her months-long winter trip.)
It’s a lot. No wonder none of us can remember what day it is. TGI… whatever.