About nine months ago I wrote a piece titled, “No return to normal for the most vulnerable,” in which I predicted that the quality of the lives of the disabled population would be overlooked as the world continued to open up and people resumed living their lives. While I was brainstorming ideas to write about in my column for this month, I thought this prediction was one that was worth revisiting — not only because of the sheer weight of the concept (anyone who knows me is well-aware of how much I love to sink my teeth into writing about heavy topics)–but because of its accuracy.
When my mom, grandma and I received our COVID-19 vaccinations in February, I was hopeful that I might’ve been wrong. Upon seeing in the news the large numbers of people rushing to vaccination clinics throughout the spring, I thought that the worst of the pandemic might be behind us. Even my doctors in Boston advised my mom and me to trust the vaccine and to get back to living as normally as possible, understanding that I have always spent my entire life living cautiously, regardless of the COVID risk.
And for a period of time, we were comfortable doing that. I was able to attend my graduation along with thousands of my classmates, go on a first date, actually hold hands with a boy, see friends again and go on a vacation with family members that I hadn’t seen in more than two years. The connections that were rekindled were akin to taking a gulp of fresh air after being underwater for so long. It was beautiful. It was needed.
And I know I’m not the only one who has experienced these types of precious moments. But then again, my situation doesn’t compare to most.
About halfway through the summer, the delta variant decreased my comfort level going inside to places, such as church, because of potential exposure.
The first concern was the deplorable way that many people wear their masks. When my mom and I first ventured back into church during the Fourth of July weekend, the first thing that I noticed was how few people were wearing masks and among the select few, who were, fewer than a handful were wearing them properly. The majority of them had the piece of paper fabric either resting under their nose, chin or, my personal favorite, with only one strap looped around the ear. To make matters worse, amongst the unmasked it is nearly impossible to determine if they are vaccinated or not. Because while the vaccination numbers in the state look promising, recent articles have indicated that western Massachusetts has the least amount of vaccinated people in the state.
To help put this in perspective, for the entirety of my life I have risked potential exposure to germs that could put me in the Intensive Care Unit every time I have gone inside anywhere — hence why I was wearing a mask before it was cool and why I will wear one for the rest of my life. And because the variant is so contagious, it only makes the risk for me to catch it that much higher. Therefore, after only attending church less than a handful of times, my mom and I made the decision to stop going because the potential for exposure was just too great.
This decision was further validated in conversations that I’ve had with my doctors in Boston via telehealth the past three weeks. My neurologist suggested that my mom and I go into full-blown lockdown again, with no one coming within six feet of me even if the person is wearing a mask, which does not allow for a nursing staff or really any outside help of any kind.
My pulmonary team took a slightly less conservative approach. They advised us not go inside places without proper ventilation, and they said that we could allow one or two people at a time in the largest area of the house, as long as they are vaccinated and we could have windows open. But they agreed with my neurologist that it is best to visit with people outside, which is fine as long as the weather is nice. However, winter is quickly approaching and anyone who lives with an underlying health condition, who lives in perpetual fear of getting sick, knows that illnesses spread like wildfire that much more during the winter months.
I had hope that over the past 18 months we had somehow seen the worst of it, but this whole pandemic is far from being in the past. The current state of things now has led me to question if the lives of individuals like me will ever return to “normal?” Or is this just what our lives are going to be like from now on? One where we get a taste of living during the warmer months, only to spend the winters in a new degree of isolation.
And all because certain people don’t take health precautions seriously, so that they can have their freedom while we are left behind — once again.
Gazette columnist Joanna Buoniconti is a recent graduate from UMass Amherst. She can be reached at columnist@gazettenet.com.