My Year At Home
Saturday March 14, 2020, entertaining an incomplete notion about the possibility of self -isolation, I got a call from my division leader at the clinic where I work- I am thinking why are they calling on a Saturday?
That can’t be good. He says- “ we want you to work from home due to your high-risk status-do you think you can switch everything to telemedicine?”. A couple of hours later, my supervisor at the medical school calls me with a similar request regarding the courses I supervise. By the next Wednesday, I am up and running as a physician and a professor completely online.
There is no doubt about my risk status. Type 1 diabetes, history of 2 strokes, cardiac disease, chronic lung disease. I just cannot get this virus; my outcome almost certainly would be bad. Furthermore, I would be taking up valuable space and using up resources in the hospital where I work- maybe even in the ICU. My year at home started when community spread was just beginning.
My wife had a job that required being with clients. This required that she sit in the same room with the client, or sometimes the same desk for hours at a time. They cannot always wear a mask and she couldn’t socially distance. Even with the eventual use of plastic barriers, it is at least moderate risk. We believed in masks and social distancing in the community-that is a very good low risk strategy, but not zero. Her mother lives with us too, she has her own space, but she also needs zero risk. The same weekend I went online, we made the difficult decision to have my wife go stay with our youngest son and his husband-the chances of her bringing home the virus just seemed too high. At the time, we thought it would be for several weeks, or maybe a few months. Not too surprisingly, they quickly discovered an apartment was too small for the three of them, so this led them to buy a house!
North Dakota ended up being a state with one of the highest number of cases per capita by summer, and I was still at home. We got creative about seeing each other with social distance walks and social distance driveway dates. Every evening, we did a facetime call. By this time, I had not gone anywhere or done anything except for riding my bike, walking in the neighborhood, or mostly aimless drives. Sometimes, these were familiar routes, such as retracing to my commute to work. This took on new detail- things I stopped noticing before due to the complete routine of it all. Checking out newer neighborhoods, revisiting old. Eventually, When the lease was up on my pickup, I didn’t replace it, because this was all I was using it for(yes, a pickup is a must in North Dakota). With the harsh North Dakota winter approaching, I would certainly stop my recreational driving then.
I knew I needed to find things that would keep me oriented. It seemed that it would be easy to sleep in, work late, lose my schedule, maybe start forgetting what day it was. So, I put on a dress shirt everyday whether I was on zoom for the medical school or clinic or not. Many days, a tie- I made sure all of my Jerry Garcia ties got into the “rotation”. Of course, I wore sweatpants, but I did buy a few pairs of some “really nice” sweatpants (is there such a thing?). I “went to work” about 8 am most days. I took lunch breaks, often looking out our floor to ceiling windows in our living room. Facing our back yard with mature pines and deciduous trees, this took on more significance- and companionship. I rarely worked after 5 pm or on a weekend. I more or less got used to zoom or teams’ meetings (“Dr. Johnson, you’re muted”- I still hear that a lot-tagged as a boomer again!) and classes. Students, other faculty, and patients adapted.
An unexpected “anchor” has been following the changes in daylight hours ever so subtly every day, but significant in their summer to winter cycle. In Northeastern North Dakota, that means about 7 hours difference, a few minutes a day. I wrote more- I did several revisions to a book I am completing. I kept on with my daily journal, staying more in the moment. I read more, I followed columnists every day. I subscribed to a couple of additional newspapers. I watched less television. Our son bought me a turntable and some records- The Who-Who’s Next remained a favorite. I had more quiet time. I have not been to the grocery store; I receive all by delivery. Eventually, delivery from restaurants appeared to be safe, so that was added for a little more variety to the days. Nevertheless, I followed what was happening in the world, mostly bad it seemed. As long as I was home, I was not going to get COVID-19. Regular zoom calls with extended family and friends became a welcome commitment- maybe more contact than I was having before.
After several months, I had only been to a destination and interacted with people once- I needed to have some routine lab tests for my diabetes in April. That was, until Friday, January 8, 2021, when I received my first COVID-19 vaccination. Somewhat anxiety provoking, I interacted with several people at the hospital. Out in public, I became more aware that I had not had a haircut in almost a year and now had a ponytail. Speaking to a couple of people I knew while waiting for vaccination, it seemed like a breach, but upon returning home, it was somewhat emotional. Crying a couple of times over the rest of the day, it seemed more like a breakpoint. The vaccine would eventually give me another layer of protection, maybe some more freedom. It will be into fall before I will need to go to the medical school, and clinic is going very well as telemedicine- I know some patients will want to switch to this medium at least frequently. My clinic job or my medical school job likely will not ever be “normal” again.
Some we know think this has all been overkill, but every move we made and so far, continue to make, is still with the idea of zero risk. My wife eventually quit her job, which she loved. Putting in a final 2-week quarantine at her our son’s place (he got COVID-19 and had a complete recovery), she came home. We discovered a new depth to our relationship. Oddly, perhaps, it never seemed like a huge burden, although we had our moments. Military families have burdens of separation, including my own as a kid. I am aware of my privilege and grateful that I have employers that would work with me, and that I have steady employment. Both situations served as very different perspective builders.
In January, our first grandchild was born. Reflective of the times, I have only seen him on zoom until recently, following vaccination. This has caused us to assess how I will start interacting with the world away from home again. We didn’t see my adult disabled daughter in months- we did, but only after all of us (and her) were fully vaccinated. Beyond that, what is the end game? Right now, I do not know.
Most importantly, I have journaled every day. Every day took on a uniqueness, no matter how slow or similar- more than when things were “normal”. Some days were long, moody psychological journeys or reflecting on times past and maybe not particularly productive. That is what led me here, wondering what the next year will look like. For certain, “normal” will be something different. Our country is entering a new era for a lot of things. I am sure I will look at the world differently.
Monday, March 16, 2020, my wife drove away down the driveway. Now, a year later, we still think it was the right decision- but we really had no idea at the time what would be next.
Maybe I will go buy another pickup.
Standing At The Gates Of The West 