Pandemania

Pandemania

Alejandro Ramirez

“I hope to pass away in my sleep so I don’t have to worry about it, so no one else has to worry about it, y’know?”

Papa ended the healthcare interview rather eerily. However, it was brushed off as a remark typical of an older adult who has contemplated and understood death to a greater extent than younger individuals, a typical topic of conversation in the college course that assigned this interview. This also came as no surprise given that Papa’s rather calm demeanor was ordinary behavior that I understood well, for he was a significant figure in my and my sister’s upbringing. That was the last time I talked to my grandfather.

Four days after I interviewed my grandfather for a class assignment, he began feeling minor symptoms of illness. Papa was a tough cookie. He served in the Air Force and had a career of erecting scaffolding. After retirement, here modeled homes for fellow independent-living community members to “age in place,” so feelings of fatigue were ordinary for him. But things took a turn for the worst shortly after, when he started to realize he may be yet another case of the universal virus, a fear that the aging population can perceive a seven worse than a more natural, inevitable death.

“What does health mean to you?” I asked to commence the interview. “Well, it means a lot. I want to move around as long as I am mobile and able to talk,” Papa answered. “I don’t think I’m in great shape, but I’m not in the fetal position, so I think my health is fair.”

Papa celebrated reaching the age of 81 just a few days before this conversation. Many of his health issues stemmed from diabetes, but these ailments only slowed him down, while his mind remained healthy and lucid. His worsening symptoms bore down on his body within days of his initial onset of fatigue, to the point where even he had doubts about his ability to stick it out at home for the remainder of what he was beginning to understand as his battle with COVID-19.

Let me remind you, Papa was the polar opposite of the melodramatic type. This is the same man that accidentally shot a nail straight through his hand while carpentering a wooden chest, then proceeded to tell my grandmother, “Just get me a Band-Aid.” The doctors he had contacted voiced concern about his health status when he called, but upon reflection, they had underplayed his need for hospital care. Maybe they needed additional proof of how severe his ailments were, or maybe they were hiding the fact that all local COVID units were nearing maximum occupancy. Luckily, a helpful neighbor let Papa borrow their pulse oximeter, which is when he understood his oxygen levels were dangerously low—his ticket into the hospital.

Shortly after hospital admittance, Papa was attached to a ventilator in the ICU. He was in critical enough condition that my family began planning for his death. My grandmother called every evening after receiving the news of his likeliest fate. She was awaiting an update on how and when the moment of his passing would occur, but could not get a hold of the doctor, resulting in a nail-biting wait. The emotional battles stemming from uncertainty relentlessly plagued her mind for that duration, and her sleep pended for as long as she remained unanswered. Sure enough, that cot ended up being his death bed. When his final moments were eventually arranged, Granny witnessed Papa pass through her computer screen.

Although what you have read may be perceived as a negative impression on physicians, I assure you that is not my intention. Moments of poor management were admittedly at play throughout my grandfather’s final receival of healthcare, but the clinicians involved undoubtedly exerted their best efforts in saving his life. The social behavior of those in our nation is the true problem, a feeding ground for the selfishly oriented, tainted in ignorance. These traits do not comprise us all, but the result of contrasting political views and personal beliefs leave far too many downplaying the preventative measures needed to halt the pandemic’s pandemonium as promptly as possible. Papa presumably contracted COVID in his workplace, from a person who did not honor masks, nor social distancing. It would be one thing if lessons were learned, but the same person was seen at the same workplace continuing his foolish unmasked behaviors, just days after Papa passed. This person even dropped off a condolence gift to my grandmother, showing awareness of the incident, and hopefully at least some cognizance of his actions’ alleged consequence.

The pain is not only excruciating for those who fall deathly ill to the virus, but also for their emotionally devastated loved ones. Family and friends are victims, faced with puzzling grief, enduring obstacles in coping that cause stagnation in the bereavement process. My grandmother was unable to offer my grandfather bedside support in the hospital for the greater good of public health, but these events would have never unfolded if public health precautions had been taken seriously in the first place by all.

No matter one’s beliefs regarding the importance of practicing preventative measures, the sad reality we are presented with shows that more and more of the personally unaffected will need to face traumatic exposure to the virus before everyone follows public health guidelines as strictly as they should. COVID’s wrath will hit closer to home for thousands more families, and only then will these precautionary requirements be met. Personally, I do not see that happening anytime soon, even given the current vaccine rollouts nationwide. You might see optimism along the horizon, but what lies in the foreground is a fog that masks it, deeming optimism an illogical belief to currently uphold here in America. This haze will rise out of view one day, well into the atmosphere—just not yet. The current state of our nation is too far from being unified for that possibility.

The following image was color-corrected to epitomize the factors described above, highlighting how the vibrancy of days well before the global pandemic can reflect the future. Even then, some of us contained hateful beliefs that hindered society’s progression towards the greater good, but that was a time when morally unjust perspectives were not emphasized as brightly in the light, so they remained in the shade. Take note of those shadows; they lie behind me and Papa. We are photographed walking away from them, but they follow us into the background foliage, which hosts plenty more. The forest you see represents the present day, where those shadows loom large. There are moments where we will be consumed by those shadows, to the point that we can no longer see light. But do you see that slender horizontal beam past the forest? You will know when you see it, it is glistening! That is the lake we long for; there is a reason we brought our fishing poles. It might still be in the distance, even now, but we caught a glimpse of it. Papa may have passed, so his presence may no longer remain next to us physically, but it has since been converted to spirit. It is up to us to eventually reach that lake, knowing that he will be with us every step of the way.

-Alejandro Ramirez is a second-year graduate school student from Nashville, TN, pursuing an MS in Gerontology.-