March 19, 2020

Ever since my brilliant nephew Trevor sent an email on January 25th warning family and friends about the dangers of the novel coronavirus, I have been worried and anxious. I took Trevor’s warning to heart and shopped at Costco on January 31st, for shelf staples and freezer foods, and made sure that I had enough prescription meds to last a month. 

I kept up with the news of the virus sweeping through China. Gradually the red dots on the Hopkins global map of the outbreak grew larger in China and cases started emerging in other parts of the world, including Italy and Iran.

In the United States, the virus reached the states of Washington and California first. Trevor had predicted that the virus would reach the East Coast in mid-February to early March. It was as though a sword of Damocles was hanging over our heads, and we were waiting for it to fall. Very few friends took my warnings seriously. One told me that we had to stay sane. 

I made no attempts to cut down my busy schedule in February and my  calendar was very full, with a long list of activities—a ballet at the Kennedy Center, Cherish the Ladies concert, a play, potlucks, and open mics for me to read my poetry and tell stories.

On March 1st, I made a short trip to North Carolina with a friend, where I told stories to six classes in an elementary school. On the way home the first case of Covid-19 in North Carolina was announced. The next day March 5th I took the Metro into DC with a friend to see the special Jane Goodall exhibit at the National Geographic. The first confirmed case in nearby Maryland was announced that day. 

Two days later on March 7th the first case in Virginia was announced; the patient had returned from a cruise on the Nile.

 Exponential growth was predicted, and with not enough testing kits in the United States, we did not have a count of the true numbers. But like listening to the sounds of popcorn kernels popping in the microwave bag first slowly and then faster and faster, the numbers in my area were starting to explode.

Our annual church auction—always great fun and jam-packed with people— was held on March 7th, but I didn’t go. I didn’t go to church the next morning either, but I did go to a memorial service for a friend that afternoon and tried to sit well away from others. Some friends sat down next to me, and one reached over and patted my hand. 

On Monday I asked my lit group chair to cancel the meeting that I was supposed to lead the following week. 

Then in a week that saw a full moon and Friday the 13th came the wave of cancellations of events including my AAUW branch meeting and the Friday evening worship service I was leading at my church.

On Saturday March 14th the first person died from Covid-19 in Virginia.

Social distancing measures now are increasing to try to slow down the spread of the virus—first limiting events to 250, then 150, 100. Now ten. More and more Americans realize the need to flatten the peak of the Covid-19 outbreak so that our health system is not overwhelmed, but it may be too late. One danger is that the virus can be spread by the asymptomatic. The other problem is the continued lack of testing kits.

The mortality rate is highest for the elderly or those with compromised immune systems so we are being told to stay at home. I tick both those boxes. I ran three short errands on Tuesday, March 17, and received a scolding from both my two adult children who have begged me to stay home.

One estimate from UK experts is 2.2 million deaths in the United States if we do not take drastic measures.  

I am here on my hilltop alone, with spring unfolding.