A Shift in Rhythm

I stayed at home all day today. The world outside is changing as the country begins to shut down -- although not fast enough, for my liking. I also suspended my DOK discernment process, via email. It felt like the right thing to do, especially since our discernment meetings are happening in a tiny little room without a ton of ventilation from the outside.

In lieu of readings, I have been focusing on setting my apartment in order

As I packed and scrubbed, my sister A. -- who lives in an upstairs unit in my building -- came down to keep me company and talk. I cooked us dinner, and she vented.

A. has many of the same health issues I do. If anything, her asthma is worse than mine. Her lungs stay persistently inflamed, for big swaths of the year. A tele-doctor told her a few days ago to stay away from urgent care or ERs right now. She told me afterward that the look on his face -- and the sudden shift in his voice/tone -- gave her chills, as if he knew something she didn't.

"That's probably where he's been referring people," she mused. "He knows who and what is at urgent care right now."

On the other hand,  A.'s boyfriend has not stopped going out around the city. (He was pressuring her to eat out in a restaurant with another couple this weekend.) He also has a small son who touches everything in sight, and who he doesn't correct or teach good flu-season (or pandemic) hygiene to. This has been a source of tension between A. and her boyfriend, for the past week.

"It's like he doesn't get that this could kill me," she said, sadly. "He keeps saying 'I won't get sick,' or 'My son won't get that sick, if he catches it. It isn't killing kids.' And I keep repeating, 'but you will bring it home to me.' It makes me wonder what kind of partner I really have. He isn't listening."

At the end -- as I was packing to go to J.'s for indefinite quarantine together -- A. looked progressively sadder. Then, she said she was going to go back to her apartment. "Let's... hug. Since we may not have human contact for a while."

It was an odd request. Our family doesn't hug. But I leaned in, and she gave me one of her stiff, strange, fluttery embraces -- the ones that come out at holidays and funerals.

It didn't really occur to me until after she left that it might be the last time we see each other for a long time, even though we are in the same city.  When J. and I made plans to hunker down in the suburbs together -- where I won't be navigating public shared spaces or door handles to walk my dog each day -- I thought that A. and her partner would do the same.

Now, I'm not even sure if she'll be able to continue seeing him or his son, in person. She faces some tough conversations, and possibly decisions.

I want us both to be as safe as possible. I also don't want her to be lonely.
My heart is heavy and torn, tonight.