36 hours on egg shells

Charlie has been sick for the past four days. It began on Sunday with a high fever.

In the Land of Coronavirus, this was unsettling.

It was unsettling enough for the doctor to advise us to get Charlie tested for COVID-19, so after an aborted attempt at a testing center with too many patients and not enough testing, Elysha brought him through an efficient, safe drive-thru testing center about a mile from our home. A quick nasal swab from the comfort of his carseat, and he was home within he hour.

Then we waited.

About 36 hours later, we received the negative result.

Honestly, we expected him to test negative. It looked like nothing more than a cold. Our bubble of contact is fairly small, and we are careful. We spend most of our time with people outdoors and socially distant. We wear our masks. We wash our hands constantly.

But here’s the thing:

Charlie got a cold. You don’t get a cold unless someone passes that virus onto you. A virus not too unlike the coronavirus.

Somewhere along the way, another human being penetrated our bubble and passed on a virus to my son. A weak, easily defeated virus, but still.

My guess is that Charlie picked this virus up by touching something, since unlike the coronavirus, which is almost never transmitted from object to human, the common cold virus is often passed via fomites. No one in the house has caught Charlie’s cold, leading me to believe that it’s not a respiratory version of the cold virus.

Still, he got sick.

As we waited for his COVID-19 test, I thought about the implications of a positive test. It meant that one or more of our family members were likely positive, too, since we had already been in constant contact with Charlie. The entire family could be positive. Knowing this, I cancelled golf with friends. Avoided coming even within six feet of the neighbors. Rescheduled an outdoor BBQ with friends. Avoided shopping until we knew for sure.

I also started riding my bike longer and faster than ever before. I herniated a disk in my back two weeks ago while swinging a golf club, so my biking had been limited due to the pain. My physical therapist gave me the okay to return to the bike just before Charlie got sick, so I started riding relentlessly, rationalizing that if I could peddle like hell for long distances and up steep hills, I wasn’t sick.

I could’ve simply gone for my own COVID-19 test, but somehow, that would’ve made the possibility too real.

It’s just one of the many frightening things about the disease. You could be sick, battling a virus on the inside, infecting others, and never know it.

I consult with the CEO of a large corporation in Connecticut who operates one of the few businesses that tests its employees daily. Before you can enter the factory, you are tested. On the first day that they reopened, their onsite testing identified ten asymptomatic employees.

He explained to me that he has employees with heart conditions. Other underlying medical concerns. Aging employees. Had those ten asymptomatic employees entered the factory, it’s probable, even with their social distancing and other mitigation strategies, that the virus would have been passed along, and someone may have died.

In two weeks, I will be entering a similar environment. Returning to a school filled with adults and children. Except no one will be tested at the door. Asymptomatic adults and children may pass through the schoolhouse doors, as happens every day in grocery stores, convenience stores, and every other public space.

At the moment, one in three children who test positive for COVID-19 end up in intensive care. More than one thousand Americans are dying every day of the disease. We experience a loss of life equal to the terrorist attacks of 9/11 every 2-3 days.

It’s no joke. Scary stuff.

I’m not proposing the closure of schools. I happen to live in the state with one of the lowest rates of infection in the nation, with less than 1% of tests returning a positive result. This is not by accident. Connecticut residents were masked by order of the state on April 21, long before any other state mandated masks. Bars remain closed. Restaurants are operating with limited capacity. Large gatherings are banned. A travel ban required Americans from 34 states traveling to Connecticut to quarantine for 10 days.

If every state in America has responded like Connecticut, which sits on the doorstep of New York, once the epicenter of the pandemic but now enjoys infection rates almost as low as Connecticut, this pandemic would be under control. Our economy would be more fully reopen. Students would likely be returning to a more traditional form of learning throughout the country.

An absence of leadership, a denial of science, and abject stupidity has led to rising infection rates throughout the country, but thankfully, this is not the case where I reside.

Still, despite all of this, Charlie caught a cold. Infected, asymptomatic employees are returning to work.

The dangers remain real.

The thought that I will keep close to my heart in the coming days, weeks, and months is to be kind and gentle whenever I can. For 36 hours, I was walking on egg shells, wondering if my son and my family had been infected with a disease that has killed 173,000 Americans already. I was nervous, worried, and fragile. Somewhere along the way, our bubble had been pierced. A virus of some kind had penetrated our defenses. Charlie had fallen ill.

Others will experience similar moments of fear and worry. Probably far worse. I am an oppressively optimistic person who is very capable of placing my worries in a box and closing it up tight for a while. I don’t perseverate. I don’t spin. I rarely worry. I can be annoyingly, frustratingly, ridiculously calm in calculating in the face of trouble.

Yet for 36 hours, I was fragile.

Many, many people are fragile these days. Understandably so.  I will seek to be kind, patient, and understanding. As long as they are wearing their a mask when necessary, I will seek to accommodate their needs in any way I can.

It’s impossible to know what someone is going through during these frightening times, so I will simply assume that everyone is awaiting a COVID-19 test result. Everyone is on egg shells. Everyone could use an extra helping of kindness, patience, and support.

Also, when in doubt, get tested. In my home state, it’s easy, fast, and free.