Twelfth Entry

Sunday, March 29th, 2020

A lone New York Times perched on a ledge in what could generously be called the lobby of my building. An oversized photograph of the interior of Calatrava’s Oculus was “above the fold,” as people used to say. Apparently, I am not the only one drawn to it.

Being in the hospital, which is never pretty, must be horrific right now — first-world horrific. These days you need to be very sick to be admitted to a hospital. There is a high bar for acceptance like at elite colleges. If you don’t meet the requirements, you are sent home – without advice or medication. “Come back when you cannot breathe,” they say – an odd twist on the Hippocratic Oath. Once you’re in, there are no visitors, no allies in that not-quite-sterile world. There’s no human contact, no walking down the hall. Your doctors and nurses are so suited up that the only way to read their expressions is through their eyes.

The conditions for medical staff inside hospitals sound unimaginable, even to doctors and nurses. During wartime, medics do their work far from home. Now, they return nightly to their spouses and kids, adding peril to their relentless dangerous work. This virus has put a hard stop to a lot of human interactions.

Healthy or sick, it is significantly easier to navigate days or months of uncertainty when you have some savings. But saving money has not been a trend in recent years—at least not in the U.S. During the most recent financial crisis, people started talking about frugality and savings. But, like those who swore they would never eat meat again during the mad-cow disease days, things change. We easily revert to what we are used to, to our old ways.

One of the bright spots in this mess, for me, has been witnessing “the unknown” magically creeping into everyone’s lives. Uncertainty is increasingly apparent between the haves and the have-nots, the young and the old, the left and the right, the gay and the straight; it is impressively inclusive. The lingering residue of this pandemic will not be so blind.

With decent health, a roof, and food, it could be considered a privilege to be able to witness a 100-year event unfold in your home, town, nation, and world.