Last week, Y and I had planned on swimming, but she felt exhausted with a sore throat. The at-home COVID antigen test showed a pale line—so faint that I wondered if I had just imagined it. The repeat test was similar, so Y went to the clinic for a lab test. The result came back a few hours later. “ABNORMAL,” the email read in prominent red font. After staying unscathed for the last few years, the time had come: “COVID DETECTED.” We scrambled to isolate at home.
I went on a walk around the house the same day. If it weren’t for COVID, I would not have developed the walking habit. The shelter-in-place order was initially a hard adjustment. While it sounded great to go unshaven and wear pajamas all day, I was going stir-crazy at home. All my regular routines were off. I felt like a caged lion: The more I stayed indoors, the more anxious I was. I knew I had to leave the house and do something. But even the basketball court was closed; walking was the only choice.
The streets were eerily quiet at the onset of the pandemic. Most of the traffic was gone. Many of my walks were filled with questions, ranging from less consequential ones like, “Does working remotely work?” and “Should I buy the scented toilet paper from the Mexican supermarket since nothing else was in stock?” to the more serious ones like “How many people will die?” and “What if my family back home becomes ill?”
Perhaps the biggest question was, “When will the pandemic end?” The prevailing narrative in March 2020 was that it might last a few months, like regular flu season. I took a more conservative approach and predicted the end of summer. Of course, everyone was profoundly wrong.
I strolled down the streets I had walked over hundreds of times. It struck me how quickly I’d moved on from those worrying thoughts. Over the last year, I have barely thought about the most significant pandemic I would likely encounter in my lifetime. The last time I seriously thought about COVID was probably November 2022. But this week, the families who have lost their loved ones came to mind—they wouldn’t have forgotten about the pandemic. The scars will stay with them for as long as they live.
Another reflection was on the availability of knowledge: If Y had contracted COVID in 2020, our experience would have been entirely different. We feel okay because we know what we are dealing with and have tools: Vaccination has proven to mitigate risks. In contrast, humanity was in the dark not long ago when there were no tests, usable data, or established protocols. We only had disturbing news stories and charts that looked like hockey sticks. The situation was terrible. Now, we are in a different place. Vaccination is widely available. Most people now shrug about COVID. Knowledge, data, and science do make a difference. Visibility comes with peace of mind.
Thankfully, Y is recovering well. Some symptoms remain, but they look like the end of it. I’m grateful.