What I’ve Noticed the Third Time Around

If COVID-19 is a litmus test for community care in times of societal collapse, how are we stacking up?

Author

Nat Gurba
January 09, 2025

Leo keeps me company while I recover from COVID-19, again

I’m out of breath when I reach the top of the stairs - today, that’s all that’s left of my most recent COVID infection (my third, that I know of). Based on rounds one and two, I expect this fatigue might last a month or two. I try to not fall into an anxious spiral over this quite yet, or over worse outcomes, and focus on catching up on the things I missed in my life while isolating for a week. I’m doing my laundry and filling out my planner. 

One of my partners recently remarked that people don’t need more facts about COVID. It’s year five. To put it bluntly, we know this shit. We’ve already adjusted our behaviour to the extent we are willing to in order to account for the “facts.” I do think that in my circles - perhaps in your circles, if you’re reading this - we know to take care of one another fiercely and question all messaging from neoliberal capitalist authority, including when they effectively say, “this virus isn’t a big deal, feel free to drop precautions.” We know to do our own research and share information that will keep us safe.

I certainly think there’s also a wider discussion about the ways the population at large has been failed by horrid government negligence (which in my estimation amounts to mass violence) when it comes to information availability, preventative measures, and accessibility to prophylactics - tests, masks, vaccinations, paid sick days, housing, food, childcare, and so on. The heartbreak of this leadership failure is palpable, even devastating, but predictable. The heartbreak of community indifference and inaction, however, isn’t something I’m truthfully yet able to process fully. 

I don’t think sharing facts or using persuasive tactics is the right thing for me to do anymore when it comes to COVID advocacy. Other folks do this better (I offer a short list of such people and resources at the end), and I’m not sure my attempts have been very effective before. 

What I’d like to do instead is offer some observations and tell you what I noticed. I am partial to the literary theories that implicate both author and reader in the meaning making of a text. Maybe these messages can meet you where you’re at, and I’ll offer you a role in shaping what, if anything, they can be for you.

I noticed that many of the get-well-soon messages I received expressed surprise that I got sick even though I was “so careful.” This was conversely surprising to me, actually, because I assumed we all understood that I got sick because we have collectively decided what level of virus circulation is acceptable to us. Many friends and neighbours of all risk profiles were sick at the same time. I can’t one-way mask out of catching a highly transmissible virus. I suppose I could have theoretically done this by erasing myself further from public life. But I think we all know that people who don’t want to get sick can’t simply opt out of being sick. This is a group project. All of your choices affect me, and all my choices affect you. 

I noticed that I still thought about dying while I was sick, even though the acute phase of the virus was mild this time. As I’ve written about in other places before, COVID has always made me remember how much of a wildcard my body is. I was quite lucky to survive a severe autoimmune episode twenty years ago, a flare of a chronic illness that is now in remission for many years, but lacking enough research to render it fully “gone” from my system. I also noticed that by now I have more or less resigned myself to the idea of eventual disability from Long COVID. It’s early days, but knowing the stats we know now, I feel the need to be prepared. I noticed myself wondering if other able-bodied folks are as prepared for their own disability from repeat infection. 

I noticed that I spent time indoors and unmasked with four other people in the 24 hours leading up to my positive test. (Yes, I am more risk averse than most folks I know, but I’m not as risk averse as one can be.)  I am the only one out of the five of us that got sick. While anecdotes are not data, I continue to wonder how much more compromised my body’s defences are than the average person’s. I remember having two summer colds this year, unusual for me (and unwelcome as an hourly wage worker), and I wonder what kinds of health developments future infections have in store.

I noticed also that overall, my focus shifted away from my own illness this time. I tested positive before I had symptoms, on a routine, just-in-case test in the evening of December 31, 2024. I was about to head to my sister’s house for a New Year’s Eve celebration. As a kid raised in post-Soviet Ukraine, New Year’s Eve was our family’s primary winter holiday - the remnants of cultural and religious USSR suppression rendering Christmas the quiet runner-up. I was going to spend the evening with family and ended up staying home alone. I generally don’t mind skipping out on ceremonially important days and rescheduling celebrations, but this one stung. My dad was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer six weeks ago. My first thought after testing positive that evening was the realization that my absence constitutes a big loss. It shouldn’t have come to that. 

I am one of the caregivers for my dad, and I notice myself adjusting my patience and risk tolerance for COVID exposure day by day, in ways I didn’t when I was worried only about my own immunocompromised self. I mentally prepare to begin declining social invites, or adjust the ways I participate in social events I do want to attend, or make asks of people to behave differently in their personal lives so that people like me can engage with them more safely. I’m very tired, and my autistic rejection sensitive dysphoria is very strong, so I generally fold myself around the existing habits of folks around me. I notice myself wishing I could stand to hibernate and live alone and far from everyone I know until spring, when I can socialize outdoors again. 

I notice that when I suggest COVID risk mitigation protocols be included for community events, I’m asked how stringent they should be. When I say that I’m not immediately sure, and would need to think about it, I’m told I should have an answer because I’ve had five years to think about it. I notice that everyone around me, including event organizers, have also had the same five years to think about it.  

I noticed how much love and care was sent my way as I isolated and recovered. Offers and deliveries of frozen soup and grocery runs and small treats and daily check ins and remote movie marathons that made me feel less alone. My partner cooked every meal for me and delivered it to my room. I myself was dropping off a COVID related care package on a porch the morning of the day I tested positive. Where I live now, we are so good at opting into community care. 

I notice myself greedily and optimistically, rightfully, wishing for the types of community care that are more proactive, radical, queer, divergent, uncomfortable, brave, demanding, long-term, holistic, inclusive, evolving. I can name many specific examples of such types of care, because I’ve had five years to think of them, but most importantly, I believe that you can too.

Resources

Instagram Account: Covid Safe TO

Instagram Account: Long Hauler Haven