Category: Musings

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Managing Pandemic Stress

Do The Thing SMALLER
To order: mybook.to/DoTheThing

Someone once asked me what my books were about. 

“What? You mean…all of them?”

“Yeah. Like, is there a central theme to all your work?”

That put me back on my heels for a moment, but I came up with something. It’s this:

Whether I’m writing science fiction, apocalyptic novels, or crime thrillers, it’s always about the drama of closing the space between how things are and how they ought to be.

This, my friends, is why fiction is better than non-fiction. Fiction has to make more sense than reality. Looking around, much of our new reality fails to make sense. The entire world is under quarantine and the economy is unplugged. Mismanagement abounds. Some policy failures seem indistinguishable from actively trying to kill the disenfranchised. Nope, not kidding. If you count yourself among the disadvantaged, you feel that punch in your heart, head, and guts.

Okay, okay! We get it, Rob! Things are bad. What’s your point?

My dad will turn 94 this year. He often says, “I’ve never seen anything like this.” I understand his culture shock, but our existential dread is not unique. The difference now is that more people face existential dread of the same thing simultaneously.

If you’ve ever waited by the phone for test results from a doctor, you recognize this awful sensation. If you’re feeling bored, unproductive, overstimulated, under-stimulated, sad, angry or depressed, you’re not alone. The poor or differently-abled often feel trapped and frustrated, much like this. Many people feel as you do and this is not new to them. Even under normal circumstances, many have difficulty leaving their homes and moving about freely for a variety of reasons. Want to take a ride just to get out of the house? Okay. Lots of people can’t afford cars. A ride on a bus, if there is public transport, can be dangerous.

My point is not that you shouldn’t complain.

Vent if you need to do so. Your feelings are valid. Your broken toe doesn’t feel better because someone else gets their leg amputated. I spread my sympathy around everywhere without holding back.

I want to make a more subtle point:


For all of us, each day dealing with COVID-19 is one more straw atop the camel’s back (and that poor camel’s knees are trembling). For me, it’s the helplessness that gets to me. If you aren’t classified as an essential worker, your job in the pandemic is to do nothing but stay home. Doing nothing is very much akin to helplessness. I want it fixed. I want to fix it. I want people to survive and thrive. I’m sure you do, too. For most of us, we are playing a waiting game. Failing to wait can be deadly, so this is a game we don’t want to lose. The stakes are high and, like you, I’m feeling that nervy pain daily.

So it’s time to revisit something from Do the Thing.

In stressful situations, we’re biologically programmed to flee, fight or freeze. Those could be more useful responses when our species was hunted by evil clowns riding Bengal tigers through primordial jungles.* That’s probably less helpful here.

To better cope with our stress, we want choices, not automatic and autonomic responses.

Here are your choices using 3A Stress Management

In any stressful situation, you choose from the Alter/Avoid/Accept Triad. 

  1. Alter: Change the frame and circumstance if and where you can. Make isolation more pleasant. Find helpful, happy and healthy distractions.

    And ask for support.

  2. Avoid: Get away from threats to your physical and mental health where possible (i.e. masks, physical distancing, isolation, etc.)

    And ask for support.

  3. Accept: Don’t try to control that which is beyond your control.

    And ask for support.

    I hope you find 3A stress management helpful. This is me, still trying to close the distance between an Ought and an Is, even in non-fiction. If you’re searching for more stress management ideas, check out Do the Thing.

Much love and be well!

Rob

* What? Nobody ever told you about the evil clowns riding Bengal tigers through primordial jungles? Jeez. Read a science book, will ya?!

Mental note: Silly jokes can help, too.

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My Movie Moments

I’ve been in isolation for weeks. To deal with a problem with a prescription, I had to go out yesterday. What a surreal trip. After writing extensively about what it was like to live in the middle of a pandemic, here I was, venturing out beyond the wall and into the Badlands, a voyage of three blocks.

I made a few paranoid purchases years ago. I had young kids and I worried for their safety. The main threat in my area is tornadoes. I stocked up on canned goods and got a portable toilet (really just the seat with a plastic bag under it). Gross, but that’s a luxury when you’ve lost everything and you’re waiting for an insurance adjuster to show up.

There were go-bags miscellaneous other items in my tickle trunk of disaster preparedness: a headlamp, batteries, glow sticks, tarps, waterproof matches, etc.,… I picked up most of my end-of-the-world gear from an Army Surplus store cheaply. Since I was also researching pandemics for a book (This Plague of Days) I got masks, too.

Because I used to own a clinic, I had latex gloves, Lysol wipes and masks, anyway. My special purchase was an N99 mask. Most medical masks you see are N95s. N99 is a step up from the norm (and one step down from a HAZMAT or SCUBA gear). With my medical history, I finally had to break out the N99 for the trip to the store. I am very glad to have it.

First movie moment: concrete blocks. The mall is closed and only the pharmacy is open. Concrete blocks were placed in front of the pharmacy’s windows at tight intervals so a vehicle couldn’t ram the place and loot it at night. Clever. Hadn’t thought of that wrinkle myself. Perhaps they did it because it did happen to the next nearest pharmacy a few years ago. That time, the window crash sale was to rob a bank machine. This time, it’s to stop anyone from getting any clever ideas about draining all the stock at midnight.

I found it a bit unnerving seeing the number of people who wore no protection. Especially strange to me was seeing the pharmacy staff with no masks. However, I get it. Maybe they don’t have the same health concerns I do as long as they keep two meters away. Hard to do in narrow store aisles, but any medico will tell you, wearing a mask all day is a pain in the ass. My sister-in-law served as a hospital pharmacist during Toronto’s horrific SARS outbreak. She drank more coffee then than ever because it was a break from the heat and claustrophobia of wearing a mask for hours on end. I had to go to the ER as a patient during SARS and everyone was great. Then I spotted four nurses in a huddle pulling down their masks for a quick consult. [Insert heavy sigh here.]

A staffer in a safety vest greeted me at the door to the pharmacy. She didn’t seem to have much to do but kept an eye on me. Perhaps the mask threw her. She couldn’t see my winning smile. When I spoke to the pharmacist, she asked me how I was. “Peachy!” I said. “How could things be any better!” I got a laugh.

With the nosepiece in place, the N99 is tight and hot. It makes it a little harder to breathe and I began to sweat. I got through my purchases as quickly as I could. dodging those confident bastards who wore no masks. They were a danger to me and to each other in the narrow aisles but we’re Canadian. Except for the young staffer stocking shelves, everybody kept their distance quite well.

Second movie moment: I felt like I was in the movie Contagion. As I buzzed down the aisles, a calm recorded voice reminded everyone about social distancing to keep everyone safe. Several signs were posted warning that we couldn’t buy cigarettes and the lottery was canceled. Oh, also, guy in the N99 mask with the cart? Don’t buy more than you need. I didn’t.

Third movie moment: I picked up a bottle of Dawn dish detergent. As I placed it in the cart, my glove broke open. I’ve got big hands. The latex was stretched tight and I cut it on the side of the bottle cap. I froze for a moment. I don’t have that many gloves so I didn’t double up as if I was going down into the bio-weapons vault in AFTER Life. Still, I had to chuckle. Was this a scene from Outbreak?

Yes, I know. Ultimately, hand-washing is more important than masks. It’s just that over the course of isolation, my OCD tendencies have intensified. I wash my hands constantly and use paper towels and Lysol wipes to avoid cross-contamination. Upon my return from the Badlands, I discovered I’d got She Who Must Be Obeyed conditioner instead of shampoo. Shit! While SWMBO used Lysol wipes on my purchases on the front step, I headed straight to the shower.

Before I left, I’d laid out fresh clothes in the bathroom. A towel and a plastic bag for the clothing I wore on my trip was also ready. After a thorough scrubbing, getting everything in order feels like trying to get out of an escape room. Have I wiped down everything I’ve touched? Did I accidentally touch my jacket again when I picked up the bag with the outside clothes? Wash the hands again. I got a box of pop. When I picked it up by its little handle, did I accidentally touch a can I’d soon be drinking from? Wipe the can, wash the can, wash my hands again, double-check and do it again. You see the hygiene ouroboros into which I twisted myself?

Not everyone understands that I’m especially vulnerable to COVID-19. Yes, I know I look ridiculous driving back from the store alone with my mask on. My next-door neighbor seemed to find my paranoia amusing. However, my gloves were soiled and I couldn’t get out of the tight N99 without touching it. It is reusable, so I left it on until I could wash my hands first.

I’m back in the blanket bunker now. It’s where I belong for the next twelve to eighteen months, depending on when Vaccination Day arrives. Let’s all hope it comes sooner than later.

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Preparing for a post-pandemic world

As I researched This Plague of Days, I immersed myself in prepper culture. I read a lot about what to do when shit hits the fan. Immunologists warned us we were long overdue for a major pandemic. Many ignored those warnings because it was cheaper and convenient to roll the dice on our safety. Too many times, we have lived as if there are no consequences, as if “it hasn’t happened yet,” meant “it won’t ever happen.” Too much short-term thinking, too little clarity.

We’ve had many warnings and instructions on how to prepare, but I don’t think anyone is ready for the consequences we face. We remain unprepared for the next steps, after this crisis has finally passed. It feels like we’ve been asleep, doesn’t it? We’ve taken so much for granted, confident that things will go on as they have.

Several times I’ve heard people say, “I’ve never seen anything like this.” Unless you’re a nigh-immortal who witnessed the devastation of the Spanish Flu, this is all new territory.

There are new twists. Listening to podcasts from New York, the sound of wailing sirens in the background is a haunting reminder of horrors many are now experiencing. Connected through social media, we can bear witness to those horrors even as we wait behind our walls.

I suspect that if I survive, I’ll spend less, save more, and make more conscious choices. I hope we all refuse to settle for less. We might be more willing to weed out that which does not serve us. We’ll think more about where food comes from, for instance. We should better understand the connections and services that make a civilization run.

This experience will forever change most of us. However, I’m not an optimist. I suspect many people will be so relieved that the pandemic is over that we will rush back to sleep. People in power, eager for our praise and gratitude, will be eager to forget their failures to lead and protect us. We will not prosecute greed and profiteering as we should. Leaders who failed us will attempt to secure their positions, no matter how little they deserve their wealth and power. Short-term thinking will prevail because they’ll tell us we can’t afford long-term solutions.

I hope when we emerge from this crisis, we won’t settle for mundane normality. There is often a great gap between who we think we should be and who we are. Reaching for something better could make for a wonderful tomorrow that would honor today’s sacrifices.

Stay as safe as you can. We are all in this together. Don’t forget that once you feel safe again.

~ Robert Chazz Chute writes apocalyptic epics and killer crime thrillers from his basement bunker.cropped-Photo-Credit-to-David-Redding.jpg

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Your limit for today

I just left the following message with a friend. Then I thought I should share it here, as well.

Good evening. This is your mental health and morale officer checking in. This is to remind you that your limit on the number of times you can scream at someone today is five. As the situation evolves, that number may be reevaluated and adjusted upward. For today, your number is five.*

Cry all you want as necessary so the steam pressure doesn’t blow a gasket.

Much love to you all and have a good day.

*Please note: Less screaming is better.

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Wanna see my blanket fort?

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The coffee shop (AKA the coffice) is no longer an option, of course. Freedom awaits, but relief shall not come until at least two full weeks after that longed-for goal: Vaccination Day!

I’m writing fiction and working on audiobooks in the blanket bunker. If you can manage it, I highly recommend a similar retreat. Failing that, pull blankets over your head and breathe through a hose. Crawl under the bed to cry. Hide under a friendly dog and whisper your deepest sins into his big floppy ears.

Then? Wait.

Then wait some more.

Patience.

Don’t binge on bad news all the time. Stay sane. Perform a kindness. Poke your head out a window and curse the distant, uncaring stars. Have a cookie. Have another cookie. Exercise by pounding a pillow and cursing. Works for me.

Today’s message is:

You will feel fear. You will feel grief. As the pandemic rages on, anger may grip you. I hope we live to feel gratitude for being spared.

Whatever you’re feeling, it’s valid.

Much love,

Robert

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Forgive us our unbridled thoughts

Last night I dreamt that I met an old enemy at a restaurant. He was with his family. I sat beside them but he refused to acknowledge me. I took him aside and said, “I forgive you.”

Wow, that sure pissed him off. “What? What did you say to me?”

I replied, “Have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight?”

His rage was very satisfying.

I woke up thinking about forgiveness.

Have I ever forgotten a single offense? No. That’s the burden of possessing an eidetic memory for every negative event. I don’t know how to rewire my brain to make my opponents feel more comfortable. I don’t want to forget so I guess forgiveness is out, too. I let myself off the hook of that common social obligation. (I call it learning.)

We often call for victims to forgive their enemies. Says so in the Bible, too. However, that frequently serves the oppressor more than the oppressed. Offenders try to take a shortcut to salvation. Offering neither apologies nor recompense, they expect absolution. They place the burden of “moving on” where it does not belong. A consequence-free existence increases the chances they will offend again.

I will never demand that anyone forgive transgressions in the name of becoming more healthy. That’s up to each individual to decide for themselves.

If this post offends you, forgive me.

 

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The Most Chilling Aspect of this Crisis

I just heard a report from New York detailing how hospitals are already slammed. They thought the peak would come in two weeks. It’s hitting harder and sooner than expected. We’re all in for it, aren’t we? Yes, I share your creeping anxiety. I going to give you some real talk because I am not a shiny, happy person today. This is urgent and it’s past time to get real.

I’ve gone back and forth, bingeing bad news one day and trying to avoid information overload the next. Of course, it’s not really information that’s overwhelming. It’s our emotions that can rise beyond reason. COVID-19 is coming and hell’s coming with it. If you doubt me, ask China and Italy. They tried to warn us, but many people did not take them seriously. To get this under control, we must be proactive and take serious measures: isolation and confinement for extended periods.

Given my health history, I feel like I have a target on my lungs. My amygdala is packed full of dread. When even the most reasonable experts lay a heavy on you that sounds like the worst of worst-case scenarios, a trip forward in time to when the vaccine exists feels in order. I’m working on a time machine. It’s hard to do much with assorted screwdrivers, a hammer, a box of nails and precious little understanding of quantum physics.

I’ve written a lot about the apocalypse. Though I never intended to depict the future accurately, I think I got This Plague of Days right in some crucial ways. The apocalypse, contrary to what you may have read elsewhere, is not fun. It’s not easy. Chances are excellent that you don’t have a castle with endless supplies of food, guns, and ammo. If you went a little crazy, the closest you’ve come is to have a nigh-infinite supply of toilet paper. As I predicted, “the apocalypse seemed to come slowly at first. Then it was everywhere, all at once.”

Medical personnel do not have enough masks. The call has been sent: If you can sew, make us masks! If you have a 3D printer, we need face shields! There aren’t enough medicines, medical supplies and ventilators to go around.

Because of the lack of preparedness, we do not have enough PPE (personal protective equipment). We will send doctors and nurses into situations where they cannot protect themselves. These are extraordinary people, but they are also ordinary mortals with families and dreams. Many will become infected and go into quarantine. That will deplete our forces combatting the virus.

Worse, we may even reach a point where hospital staff declares, “If you can’t protect us, we shouldn’t be here.” That’s the most chilling possibility. I heard it for the first time today and I thought, I’m surprised I haven’t heard that before. Should it come to that, those doctors and nurses who elect to retreat will not be wrong. It is not for any of us to determine the depth of someone else’s sacrifice.

I used to be a health care practitioner. My regulatory body came up with a stupid emergency plan after SARS hit Toronto. The powers that be stood up on their hind legs and said that in signing up to be a healthcare practitioner, I automatically got drafted to first-responder status. No one told me that they’d be sending around a truck to take us to work in hospitals. I just wanted to get off the corporate ladder to rehab strained necks and torn shoulders. Even if I were to accept their stupid premise, my family didn’t sign up for this. Glad I retired and left that field of battle. 

However, like it or not, on some level we are all in this war against the virus. If you are non-essential personnel, please self-isolate. You’ve heard it all before, yet there are still selfish people who remain defiant and dumb. They are putting many lives at risk. My life is at risk. It so incredibly frustrating to watch so many unforced errors take us down.

I would attempt to end this piece on a hopeful note, but that is not how I’m feeling this evening. I will have a different message tomorrow. All I have for you now is, please, self-isolate. If you are in quarantine, I know it sucks but please stay there. Do not be casual about this pandemic just because COVID-19 hasn’t hit you personally yet. In some way, it soon will.

Tomorrow, I’ll give you reason to hope. Tonight, I want us all to stew a little in the juices of personal responsibility. We all have a part to play in this war. Some are bound to fight on the front lines. For the rest of us, our duty is to help each other, self-isolate and stay out of the way of the many dedicated professionals who, as I write this, are trying to save the world.