We took a vacation. Nothing major, but we had to get away. We did it in the safest way we could figure. We took our camping trailer and headed to the Oregon Coast. We brought our own food to reduce the need to interact with people indoors once we got to our destination. We spent a lot of time playing on the beach and hiking. It was vacation hermit-crab-style.
We did one indoor thing; we watched the process of cheese being made at the locally famous Tillamook creamery. I am still feeling the reverberation of anxiety days later even though we were inside for a total of 25 minutes. We all wore masks (properly), kept our distance, and hand sanitized compulsively, but I still dreamt that we took a trip overseas and I was walking in an enormous crowd with my five year old who was not wearing a mask. I woke up breathing hard and in a panic at my imagined dereliction. The sense of risk crept into my psyche and made itself at home.
No one in my household has gotten Covid. My husband and I work in education and are now fully vaccinated; however, we have been cautious about keeping our children safe. While children seem to fair better than adults, they still carry the possibility of chronic issues resulting from the peculiarities of Covid. We love the notion that kids are resilient and bounce back to full health. We want more than anything to believe what they believe about themselves: kids are indestructible. Thankfully, we are removed by a couple generations from pervasive child mortality and debilitating side effects from disease, but modern kids are still not ten feet tall or bullet-proof. We are keenly aware of conditions that leave lifelong indelible marks.
For us, cancer possesses the lingering fallout in a similar way Covid does. Even when Addy was “well” we could not skip merrily back to our old life. A true fix is and continues to be a mirage. For now, she wrestles with the neurological side effects. She has issues with retaining information especially things that don’t follow rules (sight words be damned) as well as executive function obstacles related to emotions. From the days of high dose steroids she has a deep groove in her brain that relies on the comfort of snack food. She’s like that one puppy in 101 Dalmatians that’s always asking for something to eat. Cancer lurks in the periphery and while it’s not lethal right now, she won’t be considered cured until 10 years after achieving remission (May of 2026). That’s a long time to hold space for something that is constantly smoldering in the background.
Logically Covid brings back a similar racing pulse to that of Addy’s cancer days. Covid has consequences that may alter the course of lives akin to what Addy has to deal with. While I felt compelled to see beautiful ocean-scapes and hike trails in dappled sunlight, the residual effects have been guilt and anxiety and not the deep exhale I hoped for. And so this week I am in a state of watchfulness even though no one is showing signs of illness in my family. Covid, like cancer, is a thief. It has robbed me of peace of mind and innocence. I had a wonderful time, but intermingled in the rejuvenation of visiting the sea is the the possibility that we may have sacrificed something too great for a brief diversion. That doesn’t feel worth it.