So of course something that's been on a lot of people's minds recently is the corona virus and preparing for it. Reactions and preparations range from "I guess I better talk to my boss about work from home options, just in case" to "I WILL BUY ALL THE TOILET PAPER AT COSCTO!" No, the latter is not an exaggeration. The Costco closest to us sold out of toilet paper last week because someone started circulating a (false) rumor on Facebook that Woodstock High School would be closing due to an infected student. (To clarify, the school is not closing, and the infected student lives in Fulton county and attended a private, home school study location in Woodstock that is now closed for two weeks.)
As a writer, part of my brain has compartmentalized and takes every headline as a story prompt. No children under 10 have died from the virus? Wouldn't that make for an interesting YA dystopian novel!
I used to read a ton of what I thought of as "plague fiction" (I guess they'd be more properly termed medical thrillers) - suddenly a new and deadly bacteria or virus is spreading across the globe with an unprecedented ferocity and death toll. Will our plucky scientist be able to stop it (and also save/reconnect with his/her estranged love interest)?! Oh, woe!
I also used to be more involved in emergency preparedness, due to work. When I worked at a public library, our head librarian had a meeting every year to discuss emergency kits - what you should have at home in case of a multi-day power outage due to a hurricane or winter storm, what you should have in your car in case you get stranded in the snow, etc. (And boy didn't she have a big "I told you so" moment the year everyone got stuck in the ice on I-285...)
When I worked at as the evening/weekend closer at a university library, I was training to be a Crisis Coordinator - someone who could be prepared, be in charge in the event of anything from a heart attack to an active shooter. I even made displays and fliers for things like winter weather safety and heat stroke prevention.
I've written little snippets of various disaster scenarios based on writing prompts. I've thought about writing some post-apocalyptic stuff... but I always find I've made things too convenient for the characters. They just happen to live near a pristine, clean stream? They live in an area powered by a hydroelectric damn that somehow keeps running without maintenance? Golly, gee, that's swell!
This week, though, things kind of started hitting home how very unprepared most of us are for any disaster (not necessarily even this virus). Completely unrelated to preparing for The Virus, I needed to get a refill of my sleep medication. My doctor had initially given me a 90 day supply, but back about a month ago she had me start taking double the dose because my insomnia started coming back. No biggie, just call for a refill when I run out sooner than expected, right? Except she's on maternity leave now - and won't be back until mid-May. But, hey, no problem, another doctor in her practice is covering her patients, and that doctor called in a refill. For exactly the same medication, not the higher dose. When I checked with the pharmacy to see if it was ready, they said insurance wouldn't cover it for another two weeks because I was getting the same medication too soon into the 90 day period. I would need the medication 17 days before insurance would cover it.
Fortunately, this medication is neither expensive, nor life-saving. I mean, yeah, it's best for everyone if I take this medication, because when I don't sleep well I get frustrated way more easily, which means I either end up crying or yelling at the baby. But it's not insulin. It's not cancer medication. I could have made do for a couple weeks on crazy amounts of melatonin or Benadryl. But every emergency prep list I've ever seen, every class or workshop on crisis control I've ever been to, they tell you to have extra prescriptions. All of them. For each family member. And an extra for both the house and the car.
Standing in the pharmacy, paying out of pocket for my prescription, having passed empty shelves with signs asking shoppers to limit their purchases of hand soap and Clorox wipes to two per customer, it occurred to me how tenuous our control of our comfortable lives is.
Be safe out there, y'all.
