In 2017, as Hurricane Irma was about about to make landfall near my home in Florida, the governor came on TV and said, “All emergency personnel will now shelter in place until the storm has passed. You are on your own.”
For the first time in my fairly sheltered and comfortable middle class life, I suddenly realized that the government wouldn’t help or protect me.
After 24 long hours of wind, storms and tornados, the hurricane passed. For the next 10 days, we lived without power, fresh food, information, cell service and creature comforts. Roads were blocked for weeks by downed trees. Power was out in some places for months. Fortunately for us, once our power was restored we just had to deal with cleanup, yardwork and replacing a fence.
I learned something significant. I learned that there is no conceivable way for there to be sufficient numbers of police, emergency rescue, firefighters or even municipal crews to help everyone when there is a natural disaster.
Two and a half years later, my wife died and I left the suburbs to live in the remote wilderness in a camper with my dog. In the national forests, the deserts and on public lands I was truly on my own. If there was danger from man or animal, it was my problem to solve. When I got stuck in the mud, I had to work my way out. When my dog stepped on a jumping cactus, I had to find an emergency vet and drive 4 hours while she screamed, whimpered and bled on my backseat.
Out there, I was on my own. I knew it and I was as prepared as I could be.
For the past 9 months, I’ve been back in civilization, living a comfortable life of convenience in a suburban Raleigh neighborhood.
Everything was great until a few weeks ago, when the Covid 19 Coronavirus hit the United States.
Suddenly, a lot has changed.
- First, there was a lot of skepticism that this whole thing was overblown by the media in its incessant drive for clicks and eyeballs.
- Then, as we learned about outbreaks in Italy and the UK, panic buying and stockpiling resulted in shortages of toilet paper, meat, cleaning products, dry goods and other staples at our local grocery stores.
- Finally, as outbreaks in Washington and NYC grew, reality set in. Workplaces began shutting down, the government declared a state of emergency,”social distancing” and “stay at home” rules were enacted and the economy shut down.
People are afraid.
They are afraid of getting the virus.
They are afraid our hospitals will be overrun.
They are afraid that we do not have sufficient hospital beds, ventilators or protective gear.
Underneath the anxiety and fear, I detect, an underlying thought from many people: “Why isn’t the government protecting me? Why aren’t they doing more?”
I do not share that sentiment.
The government cannot protect us from this pandemic. The pandemic is too big. The supply chain is global and every country is competing for the same resources – much of which are made in China, where the outbreak started.
If the projections are correct, most health care systems in the US will eventually be overwhelmed. We simply will not have enough hospitals, staff or equipment to take care of everyone.
Because we don’t, people will die. But even if we did, many people will die.
This is reality.
I have and will continue to do my best to self-isolate so that I do not become an inadvertent “virus spreader”. I understand the logic in flattering the curve to spread out the number of hospitalizations over a longer period of time and will do my part.
But with no treatments and no vaccines available, I believe we will all eventually be exposed to this virus before we are able to move forward.
Many people will get sick. Many people are projected to die. Many more will suffer physically, emotionally, financially and socially.
Even with public health initiatives and financial stimulus programs, there will be pain and loss.
The government will not protect you. You are on your own.
And yet, we are not entirely alone. We have each other. Neighbors will help neighbors. Friends will help friends. Families will come together. Total strangers will step up in unimaginable ways to contribute, to volunteer and to sacrifice for others.
It won’t be enough to provide 100% protection, but it is enough for us to move forward no matter what is yet to come.
Some of us will die. Some of us will become more resilient. Some will develop character. Some will find new meaning and purpose.
And so, we march onward. I hope we see each other on the other side.