coronavirus – Nelsonia

April 10, 2021April 11, 2021

Full Circle

A year ago, on Friday, April 10th, 2020, I came off the ventilator in Covid ICU. Last night, one of our patients came off the ventilator in Covid ICU.

I lived. She died. And I don’t know what to make of that.

I was her chaplain. I had just finished praying the rosary for her when I learned she was going on comfort care. Life support would be stopped. Pain and anxiety relief would stay. Very soon, the order came through.

The nurse, the nurse assistant, the respiratory therapist and myself were with her when the breathing tube was removed. The nurse assistant and I held her hands while the respiratory therapist tended to the necessary tasks of extubation. The nurse stroked the patient’s hair.

She had no chance of survival. She couldn’t breathe on her own. I watched as the light faded from her face. I told her, “You’re going to heaven now.” I said a prayer of commendation as the life left her eyes.

Covid patients don’t die alone. They die with us, their healthcare workers. We were her family in the final hours and minutes of life. That was a blessing—of a kind. And yet the language of blessing fails in this pandemic time.

I am blessed to be alive. Or am I merely fortunate? After all, I lived and she died. I don’t know what to make of that, and doubt I ever will.

— Nelsonia

July 19, 2020July 20, 2020

When public health agencies disappoint

Some of you may have noticed the inconsistency of advice coming from official agencies regarding the coronavirus. (We don’t need to mask, we do need to mask. There aren’t many asymptomatic transmissions, there are lots of asymptomatic transmissions. The death rate is 5%, now 1%, finally 0.5%.)

This might make us think that these organizations are incompetent. Some would even say dishonest. Perhaps they are reporting inaccurate information to gain advantage for themselves or other people they are beholden to. This is how conspiracy theories start. As soon as we lose trust in information sources, we want to know why, and generally we find an explanation however unlikely.

I’d like to offer another explanation for changing advice and statistics about the virus. It’s in the nature of science that findings change. There are more mask studies, and so we discover the usefulness of masks in tamping down the epidemic. We discover lots of asymptomatic infections, and this drives down the overall death rate. This is normal science. Yet this cycle of change can feel deeply unsatisfying. Can’t we just have some reliable information on how to keep safe from this deadly virus?

We all want absolutes, especially in matters of health. If a recommended treatment for our illness changes, we can feel that we’ve wasted time, energy and money on something worthless. This feeling is understandable. But science doesn’t offer us absolute truths, only provisional ones. And for those truths to be of any use, they have to be applied promptly. With heart attacks or pandemics, doctors and policy makers don’t have the luxury of waiting for perfect knowledge. They have to act with the information at hand.

In the war against Covid-19, provisional truth is the only intelligence we have. The sooner we accept this the less upset we will be with new policies, changing treatments, and updated statistics. Better knowledge leads to better interventions. The virus is suppressed. Fewer people die. And society is enabled to safely reopen — an outcome we all want.

Know and remember this: Science is provisional. If we want absolutes we should turn to our faith traditions which provide revealed rather than experimental truth. Religion — or faith, spirituality, use the word that works for you — gives us the unchanging security we long for. It doesn’t hurt to pray for a miraculous end to the COVID-19 pandemic. God knows, we need one. And if we are people of faith let’s believe in a good and hopeful future. But let’s not expect of public health agencies what they can’t give. Their information and advice will always be changing. For the unchanging turn toward the Sacred and Divine. We’ll all be a lot less disappointed.

May 30, 2020May 30, 2020

Pandemic Birthday

This year I had a very special birthday. A birthday I almost didn’t have. This was the birthday that COVID-19 almost stole from me. Were it not for the heroic efforts of my doctors and nurses, my birth date would be inscribed on a tombstone, rather than marking a day of celebration.

This year I celebrated my birthday at home. I was given a sushi dinner and an angel food cake decorated with whipped cream frosting and fresh berries. Balloons and streamers hung from the fan blades in the kitchen, the handiwork of my youngest daughter.

I got homemade cards from both my daughters with sweet sentiments. I opened gifts. I smiled often. I walked the dog with my wife. I drove my car up and down a nearby avenue studded with traffic circles, making for an entertaining tour. Then, I went home.

This is where the pandemic has placed me. At home. With those I love. Home is where the heart is. It’s a cliche, but like many cliches, it conveys truth. Where is your heart? There you will find your home.

I know that home is not always a happy place. I know that some homes are homes of one. I know some have no physical home at all. But I hope that, whatever our circumstances, we have some people who count as family, and some place that feels like home–where the heart is.

March 20, 2020March 20, 2020

The narcissist

Viruses don’t care about us. They are the ultimate selfish person, the malignant narcissist. Viruses only want to use us.

Viruses don’t care if they make us sick. They don’t care if we die. They care about one thing — making as many copies of themselves as possible. Moving from one body to another to do so. One household to another. One city, state, or country to another. They are relentlessly self-centered and mindlessly mobile in pursuit of their objective.

Viruses don’t care about our plans, desires or motivations. All that matters to them is that another body is nearby when they force its host to cough or sneeze. They prey on our desire for connection. They hunt us down as we peacefully enjoy a concert or worship God in his many sanctuaries. These are merely opportunities for narcissistic reproduction.

Viruses don’t care about our values. They have no compassion or compunction. They live without regret. They are alive only in the sense that zombies are — to mindlessly consume people. They are the adversary who must be killed before they kill us. This is war.

We can win this war.

We already know how to defeat this enemy. Isolate the sick. Quarantine the infected. Keep distance from strangers. Shun crowds. Stay home.

These methods are repellent to our human nature. We want to congregate, we enjoy gathering with friends. It’s natural to shake the hand of a new acquaintance or hug an old friend. But these are dangerous impulses now, motivated by our yearning to connect with others, yet co-opted by the virus to further its self-centered objectives.

But it is precisely these antisocial tactics that will ultimately overcome the virus. Because the quarantines and self isolation, the travel bans and shut downs of social gatherings are not antisocial at all. They are how we love our neighbor during these dangerous times. Keeping distance from our neighbor actually helps our neighbor, because it protects them from us, and us from them.

Social distancing is social. It’s an expression of love. For love sacrifices. Love does the hard but right thing. Love thinks of others, before it thinks of itself.

In the battle between the coronavirus and humans, love is going to win. Because like any narcissist, the coronavirus has a weakness. It lives for itself. But human beings live for love.