Cascade of Unfortunate Events
Christina
A lot has happened. And truthfully, much of it has been hard to put into words because it’s been hard to fathom altogether but here goes.
Towards the end of January and the beginning of February, the disease emerged, dampening Chinese New Year celebrations overseas. It was barely important enough to make American headlines. But it was there, lurking and festering, waiting for the opportune moment to attack. Until one day, the waiting was over. Coronavirus strikes in Wuhan.
Still, my life proceeded as normal, and today, just thinking about the number of high fives that I’ve shared and the number of times that I involuntarily touched my face is enough to make me wince. Students joked about it at school while unbeknownst to us, this virus wasn’t the flu, and it was taking things that didn’t belong to it: lives, souls, hope.
Oh, the irony. Approximately a month later, the effects of globalism were becoming apparent, and once the bystanders of this disease and the insensitive, ignorant jokers, overnight, we became the victims.
“Had we been more prepared…,” the people cried as they flocked towards the grocery stores in panic, transforming toilet paper into an invaluable commodity and emptying shelves in the stores, just to replenish the ones at home. Sure, preparedness would have been ideal, yet prepared, we weren’t.
Drenching ourselves in hand sanitizer at school and scrubbing our hands intensely at home wasn’t enough to halt the paranoia and fear that was spreading exponentially faster than the disease itself.
Then school closed. Temporarily? Indefinitely? Who knows? And what now?
We are fighting an invisible killer, and the only way to combat this enemy is by social distancing and watching videos on how to wash our hands properly (20 seconds under running water, soap on the back of your hands, under the fingernails, and even on the wrist?!) Suddenly, I’m feeling quite vulnerable.
The experts seem forlorn as well. “Flatten the curve,” they say so we can alleviate the burden on our healthcare infrastructure.
They say it as if it’s our last resort.
So will I get to graduate high school or attend prom? I think it’s irrelevant now that there’s more pressing matters of life and death on our hands. And while hindsight is 20-20 and I sit here at my computer criticizing our tendency to joke, to panic, to dictate, in all seriousness, this pandemic is unexpected, unprecedented, and lethal. Stay safe (preferably six feet apart) as we endure through this cascade of unfortunate events. 2020 is not the year I expected it to be.
A lot has happened. And truthfully, much of it has been hard to put into words because it’s been hard to fathom altogether but here goes.
Towards the end of January and the beginning of February, the disease emerged, dampening Chinese New Year celebrations overseas. It was barely important enough to make American headlines. But it was there, lurking and festering, waiting for the opportune moment to attack. Until one day, the waiting was over. Coronavirus strikes in Wuhan.
Still, my life proceeded as normal, and today, just thinking about the number of high fives that I’ve shared and the number of times that I involuntarily touched my face is enough to make me wince. Students joked about it at school while unbeknownst to us, this virus wasn’t the flu, and it was taking things that didn’t belong to it: lives, souls, hope.
Oh, the irony. Approximately a month later, the effects of globalism were becoming apparent, and once the bystanders of this disease and the insensitive, ignorant jokers, overnight, we became the victims.
“Had we been more prepared…,” the people cried as they flocked towards the grocery stores in panic, transforming toilet paper into an invaluable commodity and emptying shelves in the stores, just to replenish the ones at home. Sure, preparedness would have been ideal, yet prepared, we weren’t.
Drenching ourselves in hand sanitizer at school and scrubbing our hands intensely at home wasn’t enough to halt the paranoia and fear that was spreading exponentially faster than the disease itself.
Then school closed. Temporarily? Indefinitely? Who knows? And what now?
We are fighting an invisible killer, and the only way to combat this enemy is by social distancing and watching videos on how to wash our hands properly (20 seconds under running water, soap on the back of your hands, under the fingernails, and even on the wrist?!) Suddenly, I’m feeling quite vulnerable.
The experts seem forlorn as well. “Flatten the curve,” they say so we can alleviate the burden on our healthcare infrastructure.
They say it as if it’s our last resort.
So will I get to graduate high school or attend prom? I think it’s irrelevant now that there’s more pressing matters of life and death on our hands. And while hindsight is 20-20 and I sit here at my computer criticizing our tendency to joke, to panic, to dictate, in all seriousness, this pandemic is unexpected, unprecedented, and lethal. Stay safe (preferably six feet apart) as we endure through this cascade of unfortunate events. 2020 is not the year I expected it to be.
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