“I don’t know where this summer went!”
This is not an uncommon refrain to hear in mid-August, as Labor Day approaches and schools go back into session. But I have my own reason for this head-scratching reflection on the passage of time.
I was diagnosed with COVID-19 a month ago. My initial round of symptoms lasted 1 week. My rebound symptoms lasted more than another week. I spent 2.5 weeks in isolation before having two consecutive negative tests. I spent 2 more weeks catching up and resuming my usual activities.
And here I am, a month later, facing my layers of disbelief that it is already the middle of August.
Two summers ago, when my husband and I were frantically trying to work from home while the kids had no camp or childcare, the passage of every individual day was right there in front of us. Day 1 — we got through it. Day 2 — we got through it. Last summer, when my kids were physically back in summer camp but unvaccinated and Delta was surging, every week was a countdown of exposure dodged. Week 1 — we got through it. Week 2 — we got through it. This summer? I’ve completely lost track of the days and weeks.
I’m fortunate to not have developed COVID-19 brain (brain fog) — that’s not why I don’t know where this summer went. But the pause in my life due to reduced stamina and energy is very real. For weeks, even after ceasing isolation, my days consisted of the bare minimum to get through work and family home life — otherwise I was on the couch or going to sleep early. What have I missed this summer? I missed my kid running into my arms after he returned from 3 weeks at sleepaway camp. I missed walking the dog when the sun was already up before 6 a.m. I missed going to the farmers market and then enjoying seasonal produce. I missed going on bike rides with my kids on cool summer evenings. I missed plowing through my summer to-be-read pile. I missed being able to channel creative energy into active and new work projects.
I am lucky. I am appreciative. I am humbled.
I am fully aware that my ability to wax poetic about what I missed comes from a place of privilege. I am healthy at baseline plus fully vaccinated and boosted. I am not immunosuppressed, and I do not have a disability. I could isolate from family, and I did not spread COVID-19 to the rest of the household. Yet, COVID-19 still nearly stole a month of my life — and if it did that to me, what is it doing to others?
COVID-19, in its protean manifestations, is a sneaky, tricky beast. Yet we know — we know — that those in our communities who were already the most vulnerable continue to bear the brunt of the pandemic and how it is being handled. And those of us who have been screaming for true public-health level protection from this pandemic continue to scream that the “individual responsibility” approach is missing the mark as the needs of so many are still missing from the big picture discussion.
Last week, the CDC issued its latest guidance regarding vaccination status, testing, isolation, and quarantine after exposure. Just weeks after President Biden utilized a stricter test out of isolation strategy, the CDC instead loosened COVID-19 risk mitigation steps. To many, it smacked of a rush to normalize getting back to “normal” and living with the virus, as well as shrugging off societal responsibility by shifting the onus to personal risk calculations. As I sat doom scrolling through news feeds that night, I had a very difficult time reconciling the updates with my own recent course of COVID-19 as well as the ongoing advocacy from others.
So much felt missing from the latest guidelines, as well as in the ongoing responses to the pandemic. Communal responsibility was missing. Focusing on the vulnerable or disabled was missing. Acknowledging the risks, and related suffering, of long-COVID was missing. Masking as an act of caring and compassion was missing. Public health and public education in need of infrastructure support were missing. Much felt missing, and many felt missed.
Because much is missed and many are missing. One million lives in the U.S. alone are missing because of deaths due to COVID-19. Nearly 20% of American adults are missing a life free from long-COVID symptoms. More than a third of non-elderly adults have missed or delayed necessary healthcare. Children are missing life without long-term COVID-19 complications. Students have missed learning opportunities in school as well as summer camp because of disruptions due to case outbreaks. Families are missing paid sick leave, support for flexible employment, and equality in the workplace. Many, especially women, are missing professional development opportunities and instead becoming members of the Great Resignation.
It is August 2022, and so much is missing. Cohesive, broad based strategies are missing. Leadership is missing. Role models to consider the protection needed by others are missing.
I consider myself lucky. I only missed a month of a high-energy, schedule-packed summer. But policymakers, healthcare professionals, and even the general public must continue to consider what others might miss when they say people miss pre-pandemic life and want to return to “normal.” We must all consider what others might miss when we say we miss seeing mask-free faces. The need to shift our thinking to our “new normal” is here instead, and we still need to actively work to ensure many aren’t missing from this.
Avital O’Glasser, MD, is a hospitalist and an associate professor of medicine in the Division of Hospital Medicine at the Oregon Health & Science University School of Medicine in Portland.
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