Years ago my younger son famously shouted to his brother from the other room, “Don’t ask her for help with your math. Mom’s more of a walking dictionary than a calculator.”
And don’t get me started on the religion major jokes around here.
But even I can do simple arithmetic. Way down in this very long post, this guy presents a word problem. I did not triple check to see if he’s legit, but I trust my source. Let’s assume he’s correct.
My county, with 26 confirmed COVID-19 cases yesterday, can expect to have, I’m not kidding, 29,000 cases in 30 days. And 15% of those folks would be about 3,000—and they will need hospitalization.
I don’t know how many beds we have in Pierce County, but the large hospital where I was treated during my own Mortal Peril has something like 380. The other large hospital in town, the one where that same number one son was born, and which he called “my hosisputtal,” has 374 beds.
So 754 beds, plus, let’s say a hundred more in the surrounding area plus 3,000 sick people equals… a lot of death.
I fervently hope the school closures and whatnot will be adequate to flatten that curve.
Now, I don’t love the term “social distancing.” I heard it suggested that we should call it “physical distancing,” because we need to be socially close, especially now. And, shoot, we already have more than enough social distancing in this country. I get that. But my preferred term is “hunkering.”
Although I saw a meme suggesting “saving the realm” or some such. Also good.
As of last Friday, the staff at my university are still expected to report to work, while students and faculty will continue classes virtually. “The message is clear about whose health matters.”
But I also heard on Friday from three decision-makers, in three different departments, that important decisions were, in fact, being made. I just had to be patient.
“You’ll hear something on Monday.”
Sure. Okay. We’ll all keep checking the website.
And, yes, of course I feel for all these people deliberating and having to make hard choices. But the uncertainty is difficult. The slow eking-out of information is difficult.
Years ago I was on some damn committee or other—and very bad at it, I might add—and I heard a lot of talk about mitigation and liability and emergency whatnots. I could be wrong, but my sense is that the university was prepared for a sudden disaster, but not this slowly unfolding apocalypse.
Are any of us ready?
Well, maybe the TP hoarders are. Maybe.
This much change in a short period of time is hard to metabolize. I notice odd thoughts crossing my mind.
I need to turn down the heat.
More hours in the house will mean a higher utility bill. That put me in mind of our homeschool days, when we all wore down vests and fingerless gloves inside, and I kept the thermostat at 62 degrees. Before homeschooling, I kept the temperature low enough that the boys would keep their clothes on, but not so low that their lips turned blue.
What is everyone doing with all those frozen vegetables?
My ex-husband called the other night just as I was falling asleep. He’d been to the grocery store that day, and all the frozen food bins were empty. My honorary daughter had just sent a photo earlier in the day documenting this. My mind drifted to the garden, where I still have some broccoli shoots and kale and chard. The next morning I took an inventory of seeds I’ve bought but not yet planted.
This will be the first springtime in twenty years that I do not have to work like a dog all through April. I’ve lost count of the cancellations, but typically we present eighty-some concerts in the spring semester. We’re currently down to four, with the possibility of one lecture. I’m not hopeful that these will happen.
The garden went all to heck in the last years, and, presumably, depending on what the university decides, I’ll have plenty of time to bring it back.
Yesterday on my run I met a car at an intersection, and the driver waved me across. I waved back to thank her, and just as I moved in front of her car, she began to roll forward. Very close, but I was not in danger.
She rolled down her window to say, “I’m so sorry! I haven’t had coffee yet today!”
“Coffee is important!”
“Have a great day!”
We laughed and went on our way.
It was a poignant moment, that small interaction. A good reminder that we are not alone, even in our empty houses, and that we can still take care of one another, even at a distance of six feet or more.
1. Asking about the situation of hourly staff who are not “necessary” and therefore not working at all currently does not meet the criteria for faculty communications and earns one a smackdown from the provost. 2. I am amazed yet not surprised how many of the current “top 10” on Netflix are plague-related. 3. Two rumors: a) the National Guard will be called in to quarantine Western Washington; b) the dorms are being emptied to make room for plague victims (for a fee, one can only imagine). Share or quash these rumors as you will–I have absolutely NO RELIABLE INFORMATION about either.
1. You area good pal. Thank you for asking the question, if that was you, and I’m sorry, regardless of who asked, about the smackdown. Rude. Also discouraging. (But I recall that Brett said the faculty would rally if “they” go after the staff. A wood chipper was mentioned, I believe.) I was inclined to like the provost, as she was previously at my son’s college, which is an awesome place.
2. I noticed the same with Amazon Prime movies. I’m sticking with Jane Austen, but I was not terribly impressed with the Sense & Sensibility I just watched. Trying to ration my screen time. HA!
3. Are you shitting me? Not about the National Guard, but monetizing the plague?! Sinister. But maybe that could save the ship from sinking. Admins must be terrified about retention and hemorrhaging funds. My pal, Professor Personality, whom you met in the cafe last week or last month or whenever that was—who knew the apocalypse could break time itself?!—mentioned a FB group for students, to help them find rides, etc. Evidently it’s full of rumors, most of which, he reports, “are sequentially proving accurate.” I wish that profiting from the plague seemed a more outrageous and less likely rumor. UGH.
Yeah, you’re right: it’s really weird that the students should go away but the staff needs to show up for work. At the very least, let’s give it 10 days to let the viruses lying in wait on various surfaces have a chance to die!
We had a meeting that ended 3 hours ago and I have been numb with trying to process all the changes, but at least the priority was clearly our safety! I can’t imagine this sloooooooow unrolling. . .