At the start of the pandemic, I followed a lot of COVID experts on Twitter. Of course I did. I’m an academic, which means that when I’m scared and confused, I seek knowledge to give me some (perhaps illusory) sense of control.
But now, I’m finding my new “friends” annoying. Why? Because they won’t stop catastrophising, and making me feel guilty, about my approach to the disease.
What is that approach? That now having had my three shots and — unfortunately — a four-day “nasty cold” experience of COVID, I can start getting back to my life, at least until a new variant appears or hospital admissions outpace what Victoria can handle.
The break from fear and exhaustion caused by constant vigilance has done wonders. Gone is the constant feeling of fear and powerlessness that accompanied the daily application of my mask, which reminded me that while I was doing all that I could to lower my risks, I could still catch the virus, pass it to my loved ones or end up in hospital or with long COVID.
Having faced the monster, I feel like I’ve won. My listlessness and depression lifted as I chatted with neighbours at the coffee shop and hugged my friends. My children even agreed to get back into contact, something their terror of infecting me — even post lockdowns — had made them reluctant to do.
Does my approach make scientific sense? As far as I can tell, yes. From Professor Tony Blakley to US doctor Abraar Karan (the same folks I relied on during the early parts of the pandemic to tell me to stay home, socially distance and mask), the experts are saying that a break is needed, and a good time to take one is now. Or, as Dr Karan puts it, “politically, socially, culturally, if you don’t pull back a little bit when incidence is low, then people feel like they’re being pushed to be on high alert all the time”.
Is this selfish? Some immunocompromised folks say yes, and I completely understand how scary the post-COVID terrain is for them. But it’s not clear to me what they want the rest of us to do. Wear an N95 mask? These are designed for them to wear to protect themselves against contagious, unmasked people. My wearing of one should not stop others from getting full protection from theirs.
Remain socially distanced? From them, no problem. All they have to do is ask. Indeed I have several friends who have asked for me to remain at arm’s length — literally — and so I have. But do we all have to do it everywhere for people with compromised immune systems to feel safe?
I think there’s a balance to be struck both with masks and social distancing, which are so terrible for mental health, social communication and social cohesion. In fact, I see the new freedoms brought about by our sacrifices and the astounding pace of science as something to marvel at and celebrate.
Unlike two years ago, when lockdowns and masks were all we had to protect ourselves and others, we now have vaccines that reduce the risk of getting COVID, spreading it and becoming so ill that you need hospitalisation or are at risk of long COVID. Not to mention an ever-increasing range and availability of treatments if we do become ill.
Of course, we should be aware — as I am — that this may just be a hiatus. That a new strain or a variation on the current one that makes it more deadly or vaccine evasive is just a mutation away.
But this kind of awareness and surveillance isn’t the stuff of election campaigns or even polite dinner conversation. Sure, we should factor in the horrendous job Scott Morrison did when considering who we want taking care of our health if it all goes pear-shaped again — I certainly am.
But beyond that, the only people who should be thinking about COVID now are the experts. It’s their job to watch and worry (not on TV but in their offices or labs) and keep their eyes on the trends. And to only run around with their hair on fire when it’s time for all of us to act.
