Post #19 — Dispatches From New Jersey and New York

Mary Ann Giordano writes from New Jersey: My son is an intern in a hospital in a big US city, assigned exclusively to diagnose and treat patients with Covid. Everyone -- from janitors to admissions people -- in the hospital is using surgical masks all day, and his team is switching to the N95s when they see patients. Even with reusing those masks, they have one week's supply left. They still don't have enough tests and when they do test people, it can take as many as eight days to get results. They have an emergency room doctor in their care, gravely ill. He said he's hearing rumors from other hospitals that they are pulling elderly, very sick people off ventilators and closing the door -- which essentially means they will suffocate slowly, and usually alone, as family members are not allowed in. I am so proud of my son, but also, of course, worried. I'm noticing that I am short of breath and I'm not sick at all. It's just anxiety. Luckily my son's hospital is not deluged yet. But they know it's coming.And when I hear/see this idiot in the White House -- again thinking facts are going to bend to his beliefs -- I am beyond angry. I am sick over this. Please be safe because if you get ill, chances are you won't be able to get the level of care you need to get well.

Glynnis O'Connor writes from Manhattan: From what I've seen in Manhattan, traffic is so light, I barely have to look to cross an avenue. Central Park is populated with shuttered gym refugees in their workout clothes, using patches of grass as their floor mats.  Not too many joggers, many walkers, dog walkers, lots of dog walkers.  More face masks, resigned grocery clerks, a sign on Joe & The Juice reads: "For our worker safety, please wait outside and text us your order and we'll let you know when it is ready, so you can just come in and pick it up."

CVS checkout has blue strips feet feet apart at the checkout; the young guys behind the counter seem limp and a bit shell shocked. A sign outside one independent drug store on 3rd Ave reads: WE HAVE TOILET PAPER.

Doug and I are being as diligent as we're able. I haven't washed my hands this much since Hana was a baby. When I venture out to the street, or store, I arm myself for the battlefield, and on return, I detox as though returning from Chernobyl. I watch and listen to too much news.  I turn it off.  After two hours I turn it on again.

Most days I've drifted about the apartment, second guessing myself on what I may have missed, or am missing, around protection and preparation for dealing with this new normal...this pause.

Seems fitting that after three and a half horrendous years of this disastrous administration, the last months are a crushing conflagration. What more evidence is needed for the implementation of the 25th amendment?!