A year ago today COVID-19 was declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization.
A year and one week ago, I wrote on this blog wondering why I don’t write more often. One week later — so, a year ago today — I was in the hospital having emergency gallbladder surgery about 12 hours after coming home from a trip to Chicago to see our not-a-child-anymore Sophie during Spring Break. Another not-a-child-anymore Daniel was also on Spring Break and came with us.
We did crazy things like go to museums and ride on public transportation and go out in public without masks. On the trip up to Chicago, O’Hare was business as usual. On the trip home, all international travel had been stopped and it was eerily empty. There were no lines anywhere; we walked up to every counter or kiosk we needed and went straight through security. We got home on Tuesday night and about 8 hours later, I was in the emergency room with the highest level of pain I’ve ever experienced.
Note to everyone I know who is contemplating a future in medicine: When a 50-something-year-old woman looks at you and says, “I had four babies without any pain medication and this hurts more than anything I have ever experience and my regular doctor has said I will need to get my gallbladder out,” please believe her. Do not make her sit through several hours of tests before offering her more-than-childbirth-worthy pain meds and do not — I repeat DO NOT tell her she needs to go home because you can’t find anything wrong.
(Two rounds of morphine followed by dilaudid was what it finally took to keep the pain at bay, by the way.)
Doogie Howser intern to me when morphine is not working and dilaudid has not kicked in yet: Well, I don’t really see anything conclusive on the tests so you can either go home and see what happens or you can go upstairs and they may schedule an exploratory surgery.
Me to Doogie Howser: Going home is not an option unless you’re going to send me home with a morphine pump or a prescription for dilaudid because I think it might be working.
Doogie Howser: So you would rather go upstairs and be checked in for more tests than go home?
Me: I am telling you that going home is not an option so yes — I will go upstairs.
Doogie: Ok, I’ll make arrangements, but the tests don’t show it’s your gallbladder.
It’s a very good thing that there were doctors beyond the interns working. When the surgery consult saw the films, he immediately knew that my gallbladder needed to come out and I had surgery about an hour later.
Something I’ve not talked about much is how scary that night was for me. Only a few months before, my dear friend Lis had also gone to the ER with what she believed to be gallbladder issues. The tests didn’t show gallbladder problems, though. In time, Lis learned that she had cancer; an aggressive cancer that took her life a few short months later. All night as test after test was inconclusive and pain med after pain med did not work, I kept thinking of Lis, who had come to this same hospital with her concerns. I kept thinking, “please, God, not cancer.” It was a very scary night for me and for my sweet daughters who had all loved Lis as much as I did.
Surgery went well and I expected to be off work for a week, but while I was home, all Harding employees were sent home and students were told to stay home rather than returning after Spring Break.
In the last year, I’ve recovered from surgery, maintained a home yoga practice, returned to teach yoga in a studio with limited numbers, increased disinfecting measure, streaming to clients at home, and checking temperatures of people who come into the studio. My full time job shifted tremendously because finances required a coworker to be let go and I absorbed a time consuming part of his job. When we re-opened the library to students in the fall, we had to maintain space between students and ensure everyone was wearing a mask. This Spring, I received both rounds of the Moderna COVID vaccine (thank you, Dolly Parton). The world is beginning to move forward but it is still a very different place than it was March 11, 2020.
This week is the beginning of the “one year ago” markers. One year ago, COVID was called a pandemic. Soon, it will be one year since Breonna Taylor’s killing, then George Floyd’s and the protests that followed. We’ve seen conspiracy theories fuel an attempted takeover of our nation’s government by its own people. It has been a year that very few of us would ever choose to repeat and as we bump into these one-year markers, we need to be aware that we may feel restless . . . sad . . .uncertain. It will be a time for personal and community kindness and grace as we hit these year markers together.
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
In the past 12 months, we have experienced each of these times and due to the nature of communication and information, much of it has played out in front of our eyes. My hope is that we will take what we have learned about ourselves — the good, bad, and the ugly — and move forward with our strengths and set aside our weaknesses.
There is a time for everything,
and I choose to use my time and this season for some things, but not everything.
I choose to be reborn each day
and plant new life where old is uprooted.
I choose to seek healing
and rebuild the parts of me that have been battered by fatigue and worry.
I choose to weep when I need to and always remember to laugh
I choose to mourn with those who mourn and dance with those who dance
I choose to gather, but not stones.
I choose to gather my people and embrace them
I will give up what does not suit me
and quit searching beyond myself for what I know to be true.
I will keep and mend and speak and love and always, always, always
Seek peace.