Tents of Different Sizes
As a child I was always in the hospital. I was born with acute scoliosis and acute asthma. For every holiday ever invented, I was a patient at the local children's hospital. Birthday's, christmas', Valentine's, Easter, the first day of summer; it didn't matter, I was a patient at the hospital. Most times during those stays, I had to live in an oxygen tent; especially when I was really young. Remember that movie, "The Boy in the Plastic Bubble" (1976) who lived in a bubble because he had a compromised immune system? Well, tents are more practical. Who can get a little kid to keep a sphere to stay a sphere?
Even my earliest memory takes place in a hospital. I was probably around four years old and in my oxygen tent. I wasn't really allowed to leave the tent and I had all my meals in that tent. I remember asking people to join me in my tent and usually no one would. I was in the room with other people, but there was always a barrier between me and the outside world. I felt as though I was inevitably going to be separate from me and my classmates, me and the others in the hospital room, and me and the living. But there was always one person who never saw the tent and met me where I was; my Godmother. She would climb in the tent with me and genuinely treated me like a human instead of a sick kid. We would play Barbies while eating McDonald's french fries and sipping on Mott's Apple Juice. (It HAD to be Mott's or I wouldn't drink it)
Although I am an introvert by nature (maybe nurture), I hate to be confined to small spaces; not the claustrophobic kind of spaces that are tight, but spaces where I am not allowed to leave. I need to be able to get out and about at least every other day. I don't need to interact with people, I just needed out of the tent. The coronavirus is going around right now and people are losing their ever loving minds. Yes, it is serious, but totally, in the world population only about 5,000 people have died. Twelve thousand people die every year from falling down the stairs. Most cases of the coronavirus are mild... but there are those who are more sensitive to the virus. I happen to be one of those persons.
I know that my lung capacity is already functioning well below standard. For example, a person my size and weight is supposed to breath in approximately 5 liters of air. I breath in .72 liters on a good day (did I tell you I recently had the flu and pneumonia? I'm not having good days lately). The doctors have told me in the past (circa 1994) that I cannot have any more major surgeries because it inherently decreases your lung capacity. I believe them. In 2014 I had to have a tumor removed. The anesthesiologist kept paying EXTRA attention to me because he had a hard time waking me up. My lungs were not working properly. I know if I am ever in a major car accident, I probably won't survive it. Similarly, people recovering from the coronavirus have a decreased lung capacity of 20-30%. A decrease of that amount for me would not be survivable.
One year ago I scheduled my physical; who knew I would be going to the doctor among the corona-chaos! So I am having my physical and I ask my doctor her thoughts on the virus going around. She then looks at me and I can start to see her process me. She says, "I'm going to write you a letter for your job, you need to telecommute for work. It would be disastrous if you caught it."
I was apprehensive about turning in the letter to my employer. This coming week is only the third week on the new job. And I thought about my this, my larger tent, to which I would be confined for an indefinite amount of time. I have anxiety about working from home. I have anxiety about the need to telecommute. Those old feelings about missing school so much and not having friends. Those old feelings about being alone give me anxiety. I went out to eat with my little brother today and we were out longer than he planned, I'm sure. But leaving our lunch meant going back to my tent, and I don't know how long I am going to be confined here. I know there are people in this world who would love to be able to telecommute everyday, but for me, this is torture. But it seems as though I don't have a choice. My job is having us telecommute for at least one week. I just wish I knew when this would be over. I don't want to be here forever. I want to remove the barrier of the tent.
I wish my lungs were not so vulnerable. I guess my lungs are a different kind of tent.