PANDEMIC FATIGUE 8/14/22

 

Self-Portrait in Isolation, oil/alkyd/wood, 48x36in. 2020

The pandemic is not over. I am still isolating in my literal brick “temple,“ and yet the world outside is fatigued by the fear of getting ill, the fear of infecting others, or the ferment of callousness. My life, my appearance, and my trusted routines have been strikingly altered since March 2020.

In the early days before the word “pandemic” was ever mentioned, I attended gallery openings and the Armory show where I caught a very mild, asymptomatic  (at the time) case of what turned out to be Covid 19. One week later, in mid-March of 2020, I started to complain that food tasted very bland - and one night soon after, I read an article in the NY Times claiming that lack of taste and smell were  

symptoms of Covid. I frantically ran around the studio grabbing and opening up the most pungent of my art-making chemicals - turpentine, varnishes, etc. sniffing while inhaling deeply and not smelling anything. I got intensely anxious and since it was too late to call a Dr. I went to bed, had a very low fever, and ended up shivering violently throughout the night. The shakiness had as much to do with the dread and uncertainty of a virus that we all slowly began to realize was rapidly engulfing the planet.

When I called my Dr. and told him I had a temperature of 100.3 another symptom of this disease - he said do NOT go to the ER to be tested - stay home - Hospitals were too dangerous. Covid’s unknowns were like a shroud covering our usual havens of refuge and healing. Within a week I was feeling better - no respiratory symptoms, or tiredness so I mistakenly thought it was over.

Three months later I began to get what is now termed Long Haul symptoms. My full curly hair got very thin dismantling my narcissistic sense of self more — and to this day never grew back; not for lack of trying every new hair serum that I could search for online. My heart was skipping beats, my blood pressure was erratic and I would feel enervated at one moment and then slowly regain strength. I had spells of light-headedness and dizziness particularly after eating (post-prandial hypotension) and I lost about 18 lbs in two weeks. 

I filled up spray bottles with diluted bleach and water to protect my husband from Covid; we both did not go outside very much, except to my cardiologist who prescribed every possible cardiac test which all turned out to be “normal.” I did not go into NYC or see good friends and did not teach since the facility was closed.  One of my students bought me groceries every week - a kindness that I will never forget as I vigorously scrubbed down every item. Since I was never officially tested for Covid, I finally went 8 months later and had an antibody test and the results were positive and then had 2 more tests to make sure - all turned out positive for Covid-19 antibodies. It felt good to be vindicated from all those Doctors who lifted their eyebrows skeptically when  I mentioned “long haul” syndrome.

And then strangely in 2021, my husband got very ill from unknown causes with severe weakness, diarrhea, and eventually kidney failure (which was resolved) and was hospitalized 7 times in the past 2 years including one for a mild heart attack. I learned to deal with the medical establishment and one time it ended up with me yelling, gesticulating - hands flying around my face -  at one particular Doctor while a group of astonished nurses surrounded us in the dull green hallway as if we were in the midst of a boxing ring. One good thing came out of the hospitalizations -  I am no longer afraid of going to the Emergency Room or calling 9-11.

This year was my turn to be sick and I am still recuperating from an aberrant bout with early onset sepsis and then a month of an antibiotic-induced malady.  There have been other medical scares but I finally feel that my life as lived -which seems so long ago - might be viable and the experience of looking at art and going to galleries - a profound imperative filling up the gash of emptiness of my being is a real possibility. 

By the way, throughout these months I have always painted; the process being my deliverance from deep despair.