I've seen some of the funniest memes of all time over the past few weeks. I mean really funny. The first several versions of this blog featured many of those memes. I truly enjoyed the laughs. I enjoyed the creativity, the distraction, the wit, the banter.... everything.
The issue is that what's funny this minute isn't funny the next. From toilet paper hoarding to a lying Cheeto, it was funny until it wasn't. I hate when that happens. I still find the memes really funny but it's hard to justify posting the memes here when there are doctors making decisions who is going to live and who is not going to live because they don't have enough ventilators. It's hard to share snarky jokes when there is so much misinformation, confusion and anxiety.
I've taken to calling the COVID-19 committee at work "The Beer Committee." It gives me a slight chuckle every time I call it that. Although the beer has nothing to do with this serious situation, it is forever tied to the name of this virus; hence, I humorously dubbed the group with that moniker. I don't enjoy attending the meetings. It's impossible to keep up, despite our best efforts. Information changes several times a day. It's tough to make decisions when there is so much change. I make a form, distribute it... and, the next thing I know, it's obsolete or incorrect.
This is such a bizarre time of our lives. It's hard to know what to believe and what to let go in one ear and out the other. Why are the scientists so freaked out? Why are people hoarding toilet paper? Why didn't we feel the need to hoard toilet paper? What are we going to do with staff stealing toilet paper from work? I feel like I walk around with my head tipped to the side--you know, like in wonderment or confusion. Everything is bizarre.
I have no idea how the CEO isn't a puddle by now. Maybe we should serve her beer during the committee. That couldn't hurt at this point. I'll be the designated note taker and I'll drive her home. She can sit in the back, opposite side of me. If I drive her SUV, there's enough distance between us to qualify for social distancing. (And yes, we sit six feet apart while in the conference room. If anyone took a photo, it'd be one bizarre photo.)
Because I work with people in a 24-hour residential setting, we don't "close" or have the ability to have employees stay home. Because the clients are free to leave the site, we can't lock the doors and keep them in. We can educate them, we can ask them, we can beg them to stay home but we can't stand in the doorway. Because some of the clients tend to have poor judgement and limited insight, they take risks they might if they understood why they were being asked to stay home. Because of this, it may just be a matter of time.
Our state happens to be following the "shelter in place" directive. I totally get it and when possible, I'll work from home. I'm afforded that gift because a lot of my job involves computer work and not direct care. I'm kind of a "second wave" kind of employee--if staff start getting sick and can't come to work or if they've been exposed to the virus and have to self-isolate, I'll provide direct care. I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about those who no longer have an income, about those who work in fields of which have the most exposure, about those most at risk. I'm worried about the clients who don't (or can't) understand how their behavior impacts others, potentially in a very negative way. Worrying, of course, won't change any of that. All I can do it shelter in place, make posters, stay updated and yes, laugh at memes.
For the record, I'm stymied how the Cheeto's ratings continue to soar, despite blatant lying, gross misrepresentation and refusal to even remotely follow the recommendations of medical professionals. I can't even. What am I missing?
The wife is an educator of the collegiate type. She teaches classes that are experiential... the kind that aren't conducive to on-line learning. I've watched her spend countless hours (and, I do mean countless) trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. I've watched her teach herself about distance learning, how to use technology to do something of which isn't designed, to provide the highest quality education in such a weird time. I am proud of her. Very proud. Yes, she has to shelter in place, but that won't keep her from being a rock star professor.
I focus on how the weirdness is temporary. There is no point in going any "bigger" than that. There is no point fretting that this might be a "new normal." I'm going to keep washing my hands, staying home when possible, turning off the news more often than not while staying informed as best I can. I am not going to believe a word that falls out of the Cheeto's mouth. I'm going to watch funny movies, listen to favorite music, take the dogs for walks, social distance at all costs (get away from me!), snack on chocolate of all kinds, laugh at funny memes and stay home as much as possible.
I won't hoard toilet paper but I am thinking I may need to hoard ice cream. I'm stunned by the fact we have no ice cream in the house. I'm feeling a teeny, tiny panicked. What kind of doomsday preparation is this? I may have to make my own using almond milk and driveway salt.
You know I'm serious, right? Don't worry. I'll take photos if I resort to making my own ice cream. I promise to post photos of the blessed event, if it should occur.
Until then, be safe. Be strong. Have faith. Turn off the TV. Thank a healthcare worker with an air hug. Thank a teacher (from six feet away). Wash your friggin' hands--AGAIN.
And, be kind. Always be kind.
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