(C) Minnesota Reformer
This unaltered story was originally published on MinnesotaReformer.com [1]
Licensed under Creative Commons License CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 [2]
------------------
Remember the immunocomprised, who remain at home
By: ['More From Author', 'March', 'Steve Romenesko'], Minnesota Reformer
Date: 2022-03-10 00:00:00
March 11th is circled on my calendar. It’s a date that looms large in our household.
It marks two years since I was last in person at my job, two years of Zoom calls and distanced driveway hangouts with friends and family, and two years since I was able to move freely in the world.
The actual date may vary a bit from person to person, but March 11, 2020 was the day that COVID-19 hit home. It was the day I walked into work and said I needed to stay home for the next week or two — oof, how misguided I was on my estimate. I called my parents in Wisconsin to tell them it might be a bit until we are able to travel. I checked in with my doctors on what I should be doing.
As a two time liver transplant patient with an ostomy, the past two years have been a nightmare scenario for me and people like me.
Due to the immunosuppressive drugs I’m on to ensure my liver isn’t rejected, I’m at high risk of severe case of COVID-19 and related complications. Even before March 11, 2020, I was keeping an eye on the news of COVID-19 as it slowly — then very quickly — spread across the world. I have learned to monitor the path of epidemics, including maladies like Swine Flu, Bird Flu, the West Nile Virus, etc;
This is a survival strategy I’ve developed after two decades of being immunocompromised.
With COVID-19, there has been a roller coaster of ups and downs, my hopes fueled and then dashed at different stages of the pandemic. First few months? Terrible fear. Vaccine rollout? Hope! Then we found out the vaccine was ineffective in immunosuppressed populations: Sorrow. I could go on and on.
With the lifting of masking and vaccination requirements in most places in the Twin Cities, restrictions feel like they’re closing in on me again.
Lately, while many others are feeling hope and declaring the end of the pandemic right around the corner, I’m again fearful. Convoys of truckers and hangers-on are protesting so-called infringements on their freedom. Some politicians are calling for an end the alleged “tyranny” of COVID-19 precautions. People in my neighborhood proudly display signs calling for “medical freedom” to push away precautions that could help to save my life. Taken together, I worry what the future holds for me and those like me.
I find it hard to put into words the great heartbreak and deep despair I feel at the proliferation of vaccine and COVID-19 misinformation — and the callous ways in which people have treated the chronic illness and disability community.
Anti-vaccine activists and their opportunistic enablers in politics and media are working against my ability to keep living and moving freely about the world without worry of catching a disease from which I am 485 times more likely to be hospitalized and die.
Elected officials and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention are now rolling back preventive measures like mask and vaccine requirements. Though less overtly sinister than anti-vaccine activists, this callous surrender can be just as painful to me.
The past two years have been the most restrictive of my life — for over a year I didn’t go into a building that wasn’t a doctor’s office or my own home. In two years I haven’t hugged my parents, held my once newborn — and now toddler — niece. Or sat down at a restaurant to enjoy a meal with friends.
Most of my energy has been spent vigilantly evading death, knowing that it could catch up with me at any moment if I let my guard down.
At this moment, I feel the prospect of catching COVID-19 is as strong as ever. With the lifting of masking and vaccination requirements in most places in the Twin Cities and surrounding suburbs, restrictions feel like they’re closing in on me again.
As many celebrate the return to “freedom” and “normalcy,” my days are becoming cemented into forms that couldn’t be further from what I experienced pre-COVID.
With the CDC changing their definition of community spread and what constitutes high and low risk areas, much of Minnesota went from high to low risk almost overnight. This gave those in power free reign to lift mask requirements and other COVID-19 precautions. As a result, the disabled and chronically ill population — anywhere from 7 to 10 million Americans — is forced into a time of real restrictions in order to protect our lives.
I don’t know long it will be before I’m able to hug my family, go back into work, or hold my niece. That future is being pushed further and further away, all because simple measures like wearing a mask are viewed as too burdensome to keep me safe.
[END]
[1] Url:
https://minnesotareformer.com/2022/03/10/remember-the-immunocomprised-who-remain-at-home-opinion/
[2] Url:
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/4.0/
Minnesota Reformer via Magical Fish Gopher News Feeds:
gopher://magical.fish/1/feeds/news/MnReformer/
