Tag: quarantine

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What good & bad people have in common

In research for several of my books, I’ve soaked in prepper culture. I warned in This Plague of Days that the apocalypse would be boring, especially at first. In This Plague of Days, Season One, I spent a lot of time on the effects of quarantine on an average American family. My zombie apocalypse wasn’t all about having a castle with unlimited ammo and shooting zees all day for fun and freedom.

Besides gathering food and whatnot, one of the Spencer family’s first trips is to a library to stock up on books to keep them entertained. (Jaimie’s father was a librarian so they really stock up!) The Spencers prepared for the siege pretty well. Turns out, some of prepper culture is full of shit. They enjoyed their paranoid fantasies and stocked up on guns and ammo but maybe not enough on toilet paper and seeds. After a short time in isolation, many are crying to be let out way too early. They may have lots of MREs, but no heart. (Buckle up, by the way. This pandemic is just getting started, but that’s a topic for another post.)

Protests versus terrorism

The people who are protesting that their states need to open up so they can get a haircut are horribly misguided. I would have more sympathy if they maintained physical distancing and wore masks while they screamed about house arrest.

(Hint: You’re not really under house arrest. You’re not being oppressed. The well-informed authorities are trying to save you from yourselves and protect us from you.) 

I know folks are hurting financially. Many do have genuine and valid concerns about how to get money coming in to feed their families. However, these armed Covidiots aren’t peacefully protesting to receive UBI, food relief, and governmental supports for healthcare efforts. They aren’t demanding moratoriums on rent and mortgage payments. Instead, murdering irony forever, they have “My body, my choice” on their signs and car windows.

Newsflash: You aren’t pro-life, after all. You’re pro-selfishness and all for short-term thinking that will result in a greater economic collapse and more mass graves.

Some even call the pandemic a hoax. Gee whiz, guys! If it’s a hoax, it’s the most elaborate one in history and I’m not sure what the aim might be. We all live in the same economy. No one wants to trash it. We all have at least a few loved ones we’d like to see survive. It takes heavy Alex Jones-level mental gymnastics to achieve that kind of confirmation bias. You do know Italy exists, right? No? How about New York? Did New Yorkers make up slammed hospitals because they’re a blue state? If so, damn, those ambulance sirens wailing all day and night sure were a nice touch to the massive deception.

The Defining Moment

The most pathetic thing I’ve seen in these armed terrorist gatherings is a big guy in a stare-down with a nurse. She’s in her mask and scrubs, arms crossed, not budging. He’s desperate to intimidate her. Dude, with the amount of death she witnesses in one shift, you aren’t going to scare her in your Army Surplus camo and beret. You’re emboldened by a president who tweets about “liberating” democratically elected states from the tyranny of saving lives. That nurse and all the healthcare professionals like her are trying to save civilization. If called upon, she’d even try to save your dumb ass. Screw you, Beret Guy. Go home. Stay home. If you have concerns, write a letter to your government officials while you still have a post office.

There’s the moral fulcrum: Beret Guy doesn’t care who dies as long as he gets to fire up the grinder of capitalism and enjoy him some waffles that ain’t take-out. Healthcare workers suffer in an attempt to stall death and end suffering.

If anyone’s having trouble identifying who’s who:

Beret Guy is a terrified terrorist.

The nurse standing her ground is the brave protester.

 

 

Closer to home

No one is immune to poor decision-making skills. I used to work in healthcare and still watch a professional forum where the issues of the day are discussed. In one thread, a manual therapist whose husband was in pain from tennis elbow asked about recommendations for a brace. Applying cross-fiber frictions to lateral epicondylitis isn’t that big a deal for professionals trained in assessment and treatment protocols. Isolate the tissue, treat, and follow up with hydrotherapy and remedial exercise. It takes just a few minutes and there is no great danger. The therapist only asked for an equipment recommendation. It shouldn’t have gone south. It sure did.

And then the Deluge

Self-styled gurus and pedants descended upon her, burning up the comment threads with the same bullying comments, over and over. “Treating your spouse is illegal!” they cried. “You could lose your license!”

Those colleagues valued appearing virtuous more than true empathy and compassion for people in pain. They may have technical skills, but I have a rule: Don’t consent to treatment from self-aggrandizing sociopaths. (That’s a good guideline for people to avoid when you vote, too.)

Consider the alternative for a moment: The therapist’s spouse is in pain. She can help him quickly, easily and safely or he can try to get an appointment at a clinic for a non-emergent issue. Good luck with that, sure, but if he succeeded, then what? He risks going to a doctor’s office, possibly getting infected with COVID-19 or bringing the virus to the office? In other words, these so-called experts would rather people risk death than defy a bad law in these extraordinary circumstances. Spoken as true healers, guys, Good job, you goddamn defects.

I am so glad I am retired from manual therapy so I can write for a living. I loved my patients, yes, but my provincial regulators and administrators couldn’t be trusted to exercise good judgment and discretion. The job didn’t pay enough for the stress headaches it gave me. I’m healthier now for having let that career go.

Guidelines for defiance

If you are desperate for income, I understand that all too well. Carrying guns, attempting to intimidate frontline workers, and opening up too soon is not the answer. Most people can’t make $1200 last ten weeks unless they’re already homeless and sleeping under a bridge. Demanding more of a federal response and societal supports would make sense.

Those screaming to be let out so they can freshen up their spray tan are a threat to themselves and many innocent people. If they were minorities acting like that, I fear the next response would come from the National Guard.

Don’t block ambulances. Don’t be a dick for a bad cause. I know you’re scared. We all are. Masking your fear by carrying an AR-15 to a protest doesn’t make you look braver. Your protest signs don’t tell me you are a patriot speaking truth to power. Your empty slogans advertise your disrespect for science and spelling. (I misspell sometimes, too. It’s no grave sin. Please don’t make it a way of life that defines your character.)

What do good and bad people have in common? Defying the law.

Bad people defy good laws designed for public safety because they’re criminals. They have bad wiring, lack skills and opportunity, are stupid and selfish (or a combination thereof).

Good people defy bad laws because sometimes laws defy reason. Why? Because we’re trying to have a civilization here! Let’s work together to survive and thrive in mutual respect and compassion.

I recommend changing bad laws by working peacefully from within the system. Vote. Run for office or campaign for your candidate. Demonstrate peacefully. If you must be a dick, dare to be a dick for a good cause. There are rare times when defying laws makes sense. When you do it, make sure it makes sense.

Make sure a reasonable person would suspect you’re one of the good guys.

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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.

cropped-Photo-Credit-to-David-Redding.jpg

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What to Read in the Apocalypse

THE NIGHT MAN COVER

As we get through this pandemic together (and apart), I anticipated a bump in sales of my apocalyptic stuff. I write crime thrillers, too, but I’m better known for the sci-fi about our world’s end. AFTER Life is about a weaponized plague. In This Plague of Days, the first book is about where we are now: governments struggling to cope, systems breaking down, and people sheltering in place.


Though apocalyptical stories strike a chord with many readers, having “plague” in my titles has not boosted sales as expected. Those in isolation have more time to read, but perhaps they’re doing other things. Maybe they’re sleeping and eating more,  bingeing Netflix or focusing on feel-good stories. A startling number of people seem to have taken up baking bread. Sure beats watching the news until depression kicks in. 

I totally understand the impulse to retreat into comfort food and comfort media. When my kids were little and I was a stay-at-home dad, we watched iCarly together. I have a rather dark worldview. iCarly was a kids’ show with low stakes in which everything would always work out just fine. No threats, no death, no worries. Silliness can be an antidote to bad moods in tough times. A couple of nights ago, we watched Nailed It. It’s a show where amateur bakers are set up to fail with sometimes hilarious results. The show titled “Failure” was great for a laugh. I needed that.

With my palate thus cleansed, I went back to reading Weep by Eoin Brady, a zombie novel set in Ireland. I bought it because (a) I find the disaster genre interesting, and (b) Contagion, the prequel to This Plague of Days I’m writing, is also set in Ireland. Weep is clever. Mr. Brady writes well, with an elegant descriptive power that isn’t overdone. I suspect he’s worked in the hospitality industry for the little details that give his novel such an authentic context. One of the main characters reminds me of a prepper friend of mine, too. If zombies are your thing, I highly recommend Weep.

I wouldn’t enjoy stories of such doom and gloom as a steady diet, of course. (People who know me well would say, “Even Rob wouldn’t enjoy stories of such doom and gloom as a steady diet.”) Variety in all we consume makes for better nutrition for the body and mind.


That’s one of the reasons AFTER Life, Citizen Second Class, Amid Mortal Words and This Plague of Days contain hopeful notes (to varying degrees). I’m not interested in false hope or happily-ever-afters that don’t ring true. I prefer satisfying endings that linger with readers. And jokes. Surprise and defying mundane expectations is key to a good plot. It’s also required for a solid joke. In the brain tickle business, it’s fun to make your reader’s mind bounce around its bone case. Even amid utter mayhem, well-placed wit can take a story up to the next level. That’s a roller coaster ride readers want.

People read what they read for many reasons. Those reasons are often opaque to us. We simply like what we like. Recently, a kind reviewer included this note to her review of This Plague of Days, Season One:

One might ask why am I reading this book at this time. It’s like when I watched the “Exorcist” before going in for a job interview. My reality might have been scary had I not been prepared by scaring myself worse than a job interview. The series I know will be scarier than what I’m prepared to live through, should I survive this pandemic. Stay safe everyone.

If you feel the need to vary your media diet, please do so. It’s okay to protect your psyche and forego the news, for instance. Many of us finally have the time to get to our To-Be-Read piles. There’s plenty of room to enjoy all kinds of inky adventures. If you aren’t into end-of-the-world stories right now, check out The Night Man. Scary cover, sure. However, though it is not an unserious book, I packed a lot of jokes in there, too. Want a funny romp set in New York’s underworld in the ’90s? Try Brooklyn in the Mean TIme. There’s fun to be had in all kinds of escapes and we all need a break from existential dread, right?

Escapism comes in many forms. Enjoy what you enjoy.

Stay inside if you can.

Read what you want.

Love as much as possible.

~ Robert Chazz Chute writes science fiction, horror, and killer crime thrillers. cropped-Photo-Credit-to-David-Redding.jpg

 

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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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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.