All That Chazz: Your Brain Tickle Destination

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.