To Know or Not to Know…
IT’S A waiting game.
Ten days ago, I spent an hour with a friend in his basement shop routing some boards for a home project. He’d gotten a Covid test that morning because it was required by his job, not because he’d been exposed. Or so he thought. His test came back positive a week later, although fortunately he remains asymptomatic. Consequently, I’ve had to quarantine while I wait for my test results—in yet another week.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I was surprised to notice a difference, since I/we have been mostly hunkered down since April as it is. Maybe this was just that last turn of the screw, last nudge to the edge of the abyss. I now feel a bit listless, purposeless, adrift, floating on an ocean of depression—not in it, but on it; conscious of it. I keep busy, but am aware I’m keeping myself busy; not quite the same as being engrossed. It’s an effort.
We are social animals. Zoom helps, but isn’t the same as being together. I wonder about prisoners in solitary confinement, how they cope or don’t cope. Compared to them, I’m living in splendor and yet still feel like I’m slowly sinking.
Unless I test positive, my confinement ends Thursday (otherwise, the following Thursday). Odds are I’ll survive my mini ordeal, but it has been a profound reminder of how we are all connected, all needing the ebb and flow of human interaction to thrive.
The American myth of rugged individualism is neither true nor life affirming. Not that it’s going to change anytime soon; myths run deep. But truth, it seems, runs even deeper.