COVID Isn’t Over

How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?

For most of the world, COVID is a distant memory. A bad one, with recollections of mobile morgues on wheels, lockdowns, and mask mandates in all public places.

This is an interesting prompt, to be sure. For most of the world, COVID is a distant memory. A bad one, with recollections of mobile morgues on wheels, lockdowns, and mask mandates in all public places. The urge to “return to normal”, spurred on by the restless cog in the machine of capitalism, was too strong for most to resist. Governments, local, state, and federal (I’m speaking in the context of the United States, which is the only context I feel comfortable speaking in), at the urging of powerful business interests, were quick to drop even the most rudimentary of precautions.

The normalcy bias spread faster than even COVID-19 itself, for people don’t like to confront or accept changes to the established design, especially not for extended periods of time.

The normalcy bias spread faster than even COVID-19 itself, for people don’t like to confront or accept changes to the established design, especially not for extended periods of time. But here’s the harsh truth: Nothing will ever be the same. Most people have not made the connection between the return (resurgence?) of illnesses like tuberculosis and measles and the immune dysregulation that can result from just one COVID infection, let alone multiple infections. Almost everyone I know is sick now multiple times a year, often multiple times a month. And this constant illness has been normalized. People think it’s totally normal now for their kids to have COVID, RSV, flu, and colds right back-to-back. Someone I know in my own family has three elementary school age children who had all four of the above mentioned in January and February of this year alone.

Almost everyone I know is sick now multiple times a year, often multiple times a month. And this constant illness has been normalized.

I personally have only been sick one time with a communicable disease caused by airborne pathogens since 2020. In 2022, I became sick with COVID and proceeded to have an onslaught of new medical conditions in the aftermath of the initial infection. Asthma, which I never had before. High blood pressure, which I had never had before. In fact, prior to my COVID infection, my blood pressure always stayed within 5 points of normal. After COVID, my blood pressure got so high that I was in danger of having a stroke. A lot of people, in fact I would venture to guess that the majority of people, don’t know that COVID is a vascular disease. It’s also oncogenic, meaning that it can cause people who get it to develop various cancers later down the road. It’s not just a cold. It’s a BSL (Biosafety Level) 3 pathogen, which means that it is classified, along with tuberculosis, Yellow fever virus, and others, as a microorganism capable of causing serious and potentially lethal disease in human beings.

After COVID, my blood pressure got so high that I was in danger of having a stroke.

So what have I done to avoid becoming sick? Masking. N95 masks don’t fit the shape of my face well, so even though those are among the best particulate respirators, I wear KN95 masks whenever I’m in public settings. I work in the public, and as a bookseller, not in the medical field, so this means I am masked almost all of the time. I also use antiviral nose sprays and CPC mouthwashes.

Now, I’m not perfect. For almost four years, I went largely without dining indoors or socializing any at all. I did it to keep myself and my family safe, to keep from becoming further disabled by another infection. I can’t tell you the mental toll it takes or that it took being the only person willing to do something as simple as covering my face for that long, and I’m still doing it most of the time. I occasionally eat out with friends now, in lower risk situations where it’s not as busy and I’m fairly certain they’ve not been exposed to any airborne illnesses.

Some people might judge me for that, and that’s okay. I know that with the world we live in now, every time I go unmasked in a public place is a risk I’m taking. I hate that I have to frame it that way. I hate that to people who gave up any and all precautions years ago, I’m seen as hysterical and a hypochondriac. I hate that to people who haven’t taken any risks at all, who have remained completely steadfast in their anti-infection controls, I am seen as a hypocrite and a coward for making the decision to occasionally go unmasked now. As a pathological people pleaser, there’s no way for me to win. And that’s okay.

For my part, I’m going to continue to mask 99% of the time, but I’m going to try not to judge myself for that 1% when I don’t. I’m going to continue using antiviral nose sprays and CPC mouthwashes when I do have possible exposures. When at all possible, I’m going to avoid large indoor gatherings even when I am masked because one-way masking, while it has been effective for me, is not completely foolproof if there’s a high enough viral load in the air.

The life we had prior to 2020 isn’t coming back, and if some people would mask at least some of the time, at the very least in healthcare settings and in grocery stores, I believe we would see far fewer people being constantly sick. What I guess I’m saying is we need more participation from the general public, because the number of people who are still taking COVID seriously are fewer and fewer as time goes on. It would also help if businesses and governments would commit resources to cleaner indoor air, with next-generation filtration and ventilation systems that would reduce the amount of respiratory droplets and pathogens in the air.

Your health is a precious thing, and so much more fragile than people realize.

Everything we do or don’t do has consequences, and I can only hope that my efforts have made a difference. I know they have in my own life, because no one in my household has had a viral infection of any kind, at least to my knowledge, in more than three years. Your health is a precious thing, and so much more fragile than people realize. Take care of yourselves. You only get one life.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

Tweet of the Week: John Bracey (@MagisterBracey)

“It’s time to end restrictions on smoking in schools. It’s should be on each individual to choose their level of comfort and to make the best decision for themselves. If you don’t feel comfortable smoking, that’s fine. You don’t have to smoke! But some of us have gone long enough”

COVID satire is the best satire, am I right? I don’t know if I’ll make Tweet of the Week a regular thing but this one was too good not to share. I was talking with a coworker the other day about mask mandates (I hate that they’re called that) expiring and how it was similar to people not wearing their seatbelts anymore just because they haven’t been in an accident yet. It’s myopic and moronic and it’s exactly how we went from Delta to Omicron. Positivity rates go down. Public officials publicly decree that COVID has been evicted. People stop taking precautions (if in fact they were taking them to begin with). Herd immunity is not reached because of vaccine hesitancy and obstinacy. A new variant arises. Positivity rates rise. The same public officials who rolled back mask mandates reinstate them. Ad infinitum.

Choke on your penne, Karen.

Meanwhile, I haven’t been to an Olive Garden in more than two years while others are getting to enjoy it and it’s starting to turn me into an embittered old cow. Choke on your penne, Karen. Choke on it.

You Know Who Wears a Mask to Protect the People He Loves? Batman.

James Baldwin once said that he was “terrified at the moral apathy, the death of the heart” that he witnessed from his own countrymen. Being a Black gay man born in 1924 certainly guaranteed for Baldwin that he would experience a two-pronged prejudice, a hatred of an insidious and endemic sort, a hatred woven into the fabric of the American ideal. This ideal disenfranchises, stigmatizes, ostracizes, redlines, segregates, colonizes, abuses, rapes, and murders all that deviates from it; all that is not lily-white, heterosexual, capitalistic, and Christian is hewn down and cast into the fire. James Baldwin saw the truth, and he also saw his isolation within that truth. I cannot help but imagine that he must have been an incredibly lonely man.

James Baldwin saw the truth, and he also saw his isolation within that truth. I cannot help but imagine that he must have been an incredibly lonely man.

We still have systemic racism and homophobia, but there’s a new beast in town rearing its ugly head to expose our inequalities: COVID-19. The COVID-19 pandemic is now in its third year of ravaging the world. Because we’ve not reached herd immunity, we’ve cycled through two known variants of the disease, Delta and now Omicron. Don’t misread me: I am not comparing social ills to a global pandemic. However, there is a stark similarity between the former and the latter in terms of the lack of care shown to marginalized groups.

Because we’ve not reached herd immunity, we’ve cycled through two known variants of the disease, Delta and now Omicron.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard someone say something along the lines of, “Well, they were elderly, they probably didn’t have long to live anyway.” Or: “They had underlying conditions, so it wasn’t just COVID that killed them.” Or: “I’m not wearing a mask because I’m vaccinated and I’m not high-risk anyway.” These sentiments reach across political and socioeconomic lines. I’ve seen sentiments like these from both Republicans and Democrats, older people and younger people, well-to-do and poor people, etc. The apathy extended toward the immunocompromised, toward the disabled and sick and otherwise vulnerable, is appalling to me. I am disgusted by it. And I cannot condone it. I can’t stay silent about it any longer.

The apathy extended toward the immunocompromised, toward the disabled and sick and otherwise vulnerable, is appalling to me.

I mean, what is it about taking basic precautions that causes people to be so cavalier with not only their own lives but the lives of countless strangers? Wear a mask. Get vaccinated. Practice social distancing. Wash your hands. Are we really, as a society, so heart-deadened as to not be willing to do these simple things? The evidence tells me yes.

Are we really, as a society, so heart-deadened as to not be willing to do these simple things? The evidence tells me yes.

I understand that part of it is the lack of centralized and non-contradictory guidance from public health authorities, yes, but a larger part of it stems from a bootstraps ethos which prioritizes the needs and wants of the self above the common good. There has to be something wrong with a country, with a world, in which the majority of people can’t be bothered to so much as cover their face to protect an unknown stranger from an agonizing death, alone and isolated from their loved ones. Like Baldwin, I am terrified at the moral apathy and the death of the heart I have seen since this pandemic started.

There has to be something wrong with a country, with a world, in which the majority of people can’t be bothered to so much as cover their face to protect an unknown stranger from an agonizing death, alone and isolated from their loved ones.

Those of you who keep up with my blog know that I recently contracted COVID-19. I tested positive on January 15th. I gave it to both of my parents, who live with me and are disabled. We live in a small two-bedroom apartment so infection was a foregone conclusion. I cannot put in words the terror I’ve experienced wondering if I might kill them by proxy. For more than two years now, I have taken every possible precaution. I’m vaccinated (as are both of my parents). I always wear a mask when I’m around people I don’t live with. I sanitize and wash and disinfect. All of that wasn’t enough to protect me because so many other people failed to do their part. So many other people failed to practice a baseline level of care to keep me safe, to keep my family safe. I don’t know if I am capable of forgiving them for that.

All of that wasn’t enough to protect me because so many other people failed to do their part. So many other people failed to practice a baseline level of care to keep me safe, to keep my family safe. I don’t know if I am capable of forgiving them for that.

The old adage says that it takes a village. Usually it refers to child-rearing, but I think it can equally apply to stopping the spread of a deadly disease. In this case, the majority of the other villagers are off enjoying a feast until they’re plucked into the woods and tied to a tree to die like the rest of us. Forgive me my labored metaphor, but if you’ve been with me here for long, you know how I love to labor my metaphors.

In this case, the majority of the other villagers are off enjoying a feast until they’re plucked into the woods and tied to a tree to die like the rest of us.

After writing the preceding paragraph, I left this post in my drafts for several days before I was emotionally capable of returning to it. After writing the preceding sentence, I stopped to watch a couple of films with my mother. You see, I am hesitant to finish a piece with an unhappy conclusion. I feel like a positive quip here would be disingenuous if not rude and unfeeling. Perhaps it is those of us who feel such palpable rage during this time that are the only ones who are truly living in the world as we know it. Everyone else, it would seem, is floating in a dream.

Everyone else, it would seem, is floating in a dream.

I want everyone to do the right thing. I want everyone to perform a series of correct actions which would render the pandemic all but null. But unfortunately, I cannot make people care who do not. I cannot bully someone into having empathy for other people, inconvenient though that fact may be. The only thing I can do is bear witness—stay awake. We owe the dead our consciousness if nothing else.

The only thing I can do is bear witness—stay awake. We owe the dead our consciousness if nothing else.

Shot Twice (But I Survived)

I tried to go to work today. In fact, I made it nearly six hours. But I just couldn’t swing it. Yesterday I received my second dose of the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine and it has really wiped me out. I ran a fever for a few hours, and I’ve been experiencing body aches, congestion, and lethargy all day long.

But I don’t regret getting it. I’d much rather deal with (temporary) side effects from getting vaccinated as opposed to potentially contracting the virus and risking having life-long ailments stemming from it.

The truth is, I’m just a big crybaby and I always have been. I don’t deal well with any sort of ache or ailment, and I don’t think I’ll ever develop the long-suffering fortitude of my ancestors. I’ll just take a long, healthy life with a very brief demise, thank you very much. No protracted battles for life for me, if you please. I don’t have the constitution for it.

No protracted battles for life for me, if you please. I don’t have the constitution for it.

So, I said all of that so I could say this: if you haven’t already been vaccinated, there’s no better time than the present. Just maybe make sure you have a day or so afterward to recover so you don’t put yourself in the predicament of begging God to kill you in front of all your coworkers (not lying). Bye for now!

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please follow, like, comment, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at thevoraciousbibliophile@yahoo.com or catch me on Twitter @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

First Shot

On Wednesday, I got the first shot of my COVID-19 vaccine. Pfizer, of course. I’m not going to lie, with as much hysteria, confusion, and proliferation of false information surrounding the vaccine, I was a little nervous about getting it.

I believe the science. I have always believed the science. But I also know it is impossible to live in a world with so many unknowns and be certain about anything.

I thought about it a lot before I made my decision. My final impetus was my dad going to get his first shot on Tuesday. So on Wednesday, I called and made my appointment, and they had an opening for 5:30 that day.

When I got to Walgreens, I had to pee really bad. Their bathrooms were out of order and I didn’t want to miss my appointment, so I held it. There’s something about having to hold yourself that makes anxiety worse. I can’t really explain it, but anyone with generalized anxiety disorder like myself can affirm the truth of that statement.

Then my brain went into overdrive. I actually thought to myself, What if holding urine in my bladder can actually make the vaccine ineffective or cause some weird side effect? Is this something I can ask Google or WebMD about?

Luckily, my phone gets terrible service so I was unable to use the Internet to perpetuate my growing paranoia. So what do I do to pass the time? Judge other people, of course. If the pandemic has given us one thing, it has helped to shed all guilt involved in basking in one’s own self-righteousness.

I love judging other people. And if you want to judge me for that, tell your minister or your higher power or a stranger at the grocery store, because while I am myself self-righteous, I do not condone other people being self-righteous about my self-righteousness. Does that make sense?

I love judging other people.

Back to Walgreens. As I’m waiting to get shot (poor choice of words?), I look around at all the other people in Walgreens and allow myself to loathe the ones I see who are unmasked. Now, I know the CDC has said that people who are fully vaccinated don’t have to wear masks anymore. However, no one is monitoring this. You just have to take people at their word when they say they’ve been vaccinated and want to breathe near (or even on) you. And I don’t know if you know this or not, but people are liars. They lie.

After what felt like an eternity of condemning my fellow community members for their selfishness, I was finally called back for my shot. The gentleman who penetrated…umm…vaccinated me was very nice and assured me that I would not in fact die. He was wearing a mask but he had kind eyes, and at least half of all human evil can be detected through eyes, so I felt momentarily reassured.

When the Moment of Truth finally came, I braced myself for an Experience. Now, I wasn’t sure if it would be akin to taking a nightmarish ride down a river of chocolate with Gene Wilder and some snakes, or more like when Dorothy realized she always had the power to go back to Kansas and became nearly catatonic with joy and irritation that Glinda the Good Witch didn’t bother telling her that before she was nearly murdered.

Now, I wasn’t sure if it would be akin to taking a nightmarish ride down a river of chocolate with Gene Wilder and some snakes, or more like when Dorothy realized she always had the power to go back to Kansas and became nearly catatonic with joy and irritation that Glinda the Good Witch didn’t bother telling her that before she was nearly murdered.

Friends and readers, it was painless. While I had expected Excalibur or Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber, in truth I barely even felt it. In fact, when it was over I was unsure if anything had happened at all. And now I’m looking forward to my second shot.

Long story short: go get vaccinated!