Editor’s Note: Rose Rubin Rivera is a writer living in Brooklyn, New York. The views expressed here are her own. Read more opinion at CNN.
Covid-19 has changed me. No, I’m not suffering the effects of long Covid. In fact, I’m among a shrinking minority of Americans who hasn’t, as far as I know, contracted any of the alphanumeric soup variants associated with the SARS-CoV-2 virus.
By the end of last year, 3 in 4 Americans had been infected with Covid-19 or one of its variants, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. That figure is probably higher by now. I’m the rare person in my circle of acquaintances not to have fallen ill — I’m hoping to be able to keep it that way.
As the BA.2.86 subvariant begins to spread, I continue to do the things that have worked thus far. I still wear a mask when I get on the subway and when I enter stores in my neighborhood. I refrain from going to the gym and instead do all my Zumba, yoga and hula classes online in my living room.
My 87-year-old mother, who lives downstairs from me, wears her mask every time she leaves the house, even when taking a brief stroll. In the early days of the virus, my mother and I formed a “bubble,” along with the care workers who tend to her in my home while I work.
The truth is, I can’t be completely sure about what has kept me and my mom healthy, but I’m not inclined to change what has worked so far. I’ve minimized my time in public indoor space and kept my distance from people. I continue to mask up when I have to be around others.
Some would call our precautions hyper-vigilance; I call it common sense. My mother is increasingly frail as she gets older and I am a heavy-set woman in my 60s with chronic conditions. I know I am more susceptible to falling ill and to having a negative health outcome if I do get Covid. I haven’t let my guard down, because I can’t afford to.
I’m aware that many (if not most) people choose not to mask, and in fact CDC guidance for most people in most places doesn’t recommend it. But masking is a harmless attempt to protect myself and others, so I do. Fewer and fewer people — at least those around me — seem to be taking any precautions. My local food co-op recently stopped requiring that members wear masks. People in my social circle begin their sentences with, “During the pandemic…,” even though it sure doesn’t feel to me as if Covid’s over and done with.
My quest to remain Covid-free has drastically altered the way I see myself, the people around me and the institutions I’d like to be able to rely on. Several weeks ago, I heard on the radio that Covid cases were once again on the rise. I looked to the CDC website for advice: Should I get another vaccine booster for my mother and me? But the site at the time was still promoting the bivalent vaccine that my mom and I received back in November — our fifth anti-Covid jab.
In the absence of specific guidance, I resorted to back-of-the-envelope calculations: If past shots were any indication, ours would have lost efficacy in May or June, by my reckoning, since immunity starts declining about six months after getting a vaccine. I resolved to find a booster source, but learned that a newer vaccine won’t be available until later in September.
And in the meantime? Take the usual precautions, the doctor on the radio advised. Wash your hands, keep your distance indoors, wear a mask when you can. The things I’ve been doing all along.
As I wait for the latest vaccine to become available at my local pharmacy, I’ve seen evidence of the Covid resurgence. My therapist canceled our Zoom session after she and her husband both came down with the virus — their second go-round with Covid which was made worse when they got a rebound case after taking Paxlovid.
It seems as if everyone is getting Covid. A friend in my neighborhood contracted her second case a couple of weeks ago. Last month, my sister-in-law, a teacher in San Francisco, said several students came down with Covid and that some teachers had as well. She and my brother, also a teacher, had Covid in the spring. Both of their grown children have had it, as has my younger son. It sometimes feels as if the virus is picking off the people in my world, one by one. My loved ones are all better now, thank goodness, but each time someone I love has a brush with the virus, I can’t help but worry.
Those of us who didn’t have to brave daily exposure to the virus — who were fortunate enough to be able to work from home — learned how to use Zoom to continue to earn a living, and contented ourselves with chatting with friends and family remotely. We gained a new-found appreciation for the UPS and FedEx delivery people, as well as those who brought us carry-out meals.
We all had to change how we navigate our lives. And not all the changes I’ve seen since the emergence of the virus have been for the better. In the beginning, at least in the community where I live, we were all in it together. I thought if we could just go for a couple of weeks or months without socializing we might deprive the virus of the opportunity to propagate.
I was wrong, of course: The virus raged on for much longer than some of us thought would be the case. Three-and-a-half-years later, it still hovers like a specter over our lives, and it’s unclear to me how much of that is inevitable and how much is our own fault.
The race and class inequities that plague our country were also evident with respect to Covid infections and death rates. Then-President Donald Trump waged what felt like a war on truth, railing on about injecting disinfectants and unproven treatments (remember hydroxychloroquine?)
And he’s doing it again, condemning mask recommendations and insisting that the federal government response to combatting the virus is being politicized. But it’s not just unproven Covid information from the right that’s unsettling to me. Some people I know refused vaccines based on left-wing conspiracy theories as well. I don’t think we’ll ever know how many people got sick because of all the misinformation they’ve been exposed to.
There have been other hitches in our Covid response. Early on, states and cities rolled out vaccine and testing programs that sometimes were not well coordinated. Over time, I saw selfishness and carelessness set in, as when some New Yorkers flouted the subway masking requirements or refused to cover their noses along with their mouths.
Now we’re seeing a Covid uptick, but thankfully, access to vaccines and testing is substantially better and reliable information has greatly improved even as the virus has mutated. The vaccines have been helping keep people from getting seriously ill, and that’s something to celebrate.
But after everything I’ve been through to get to this point, I’m not eager to let my guard down. For those who have had Covid — and those of us fortunate enough not to have fallen ill with the virus — I can only hope that it all goes better this time.
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