"The times we live in!" It's a phrase that I've now heard numerous people say, and have said it myself too often in the last couple of weeks. Because these are unprecedented times and something inside me insists that I try to write this down. I am not sure how regularly I will write here or where this diary will go, but I feel like I need to record what is happening in our little family universe and in the greater world around us.
Since then I noticed that fear comes in phases. Each one forcing me to do something else to feel more in control and increase my feeling of safety at least by a tiny margin. For example in such phases Jack and I have completed our power of attorneys in case one of us is incapacitated. We've discussed our preferences for organ donations. We developed contingency plans of how we will deal with a possible infection - how we could arrange isolation of the sick individual (so far it's just been assumed that it's one of the adults). Each of these phases ends with a period of relief and relative calm. Right now I'm in one of these.
Last Friday (13.3.2020) finally the Berlin government ruled to put all schools and Kindergartens on quarantine as of today (Tuesday). It was on that day that people's attitude really seems to have changed. Prior to this there were two groups of people - those who were on the same page as me and those who were of the opinion "oh, it's just another flu". You could almost sense the change in the air and see it on people's faces as the government also said that all theatres, cinemas, gyms and even brothels were shutting down. On Saturday people streamed into the shops and bought literally everything and anything that was left over by the first wave of panic buyers. By early afternoon the shelves were almost completely empty. I have never seen lines in Lidl at every checkout running as far back as the back of the shop. It was just utter madness and desperation.
On Saturday came more government decisions to close borders. First Poland closed its border, which created huge traffic jams of people wanting to get in or out. Belgium already had its borders closed on Friday. A colleague of mine had tickets to fly to a friends wedding, and his girlfriend took an earlier flight but he had to remain in Berlin as his flight was cancelled by that stage because of the border shut down. Last week we heard of neighbouring countries announcing states of emergency one by one. Italy, Spain, Switzerland... It almost seemed surreal. As of today afternoon, no international citizen can come into Germany for the next 30 days. It feels like we're locked in. Even though theoretically we could fly out, but most countries either wouldn't take us, or force us into quarantine, so it does just feel like we're locked in. I was trying to remember how that felt like for the first 10 years of my life in the Soviet Union, but I suppose I was too young to realise it on an emotional level. I certainly don't like how it feels now.
Right now the weather is good, but there are noticeably less people outside. Some people are in masks, but most are without. I ordered some of the N95 charcoal masks for going outside in the next few weeks, but because of ultra high demand they're only going to arrive (if they actually do!) in the start of April. We have a stash of medical single use masks for the eventuality that one of us will get sick at home. We started taking the stairs almost exclusively. Which adds a good extra 5 mins to get out of the house by the time we walk down 15 flights of stairs. And another 7 minutes or so for going back up. I either ride my bike to work, or drive. I haven't been on public transport for the last three months or more.
Jack is working from home. He's been great. He takes the boys outside for an hour after breakfast to get some fresh air and makes sure that they keep their distance from any other people. Then they do homework. I have been at work in the mornings and then as of today started doing Russian homework after coming home. So far my practice is open. I have an agreement with my patients that if they feel any cold or flu symptoms they can cancel their session on a short notice without penalty (normally I charge money for cancellations of less than 48 hours). One of my patients is on so called "voluntary quarantine", after returning from one area of risk. But all others are coming so far. I stopped shaking hands with them for the last three weeks, air the room well between sessions and wash my hands regularly - basically doing everything right to try and avoid infection.
As I was riding home today, it was warm and sunny. If this was any other spring, there would be dozens of people outside, sitting in cafes and sunning in the parks. Potsdamer Platz would be buzzing with tourists. But there are less, a lot less. There are no tourist groups and any people seen around the centre seem to just be going from A to B with a stressed expression on their face. I rode past the deserted Mall of Berlin, which definitely felt surreal. Volkswagen stopped production in Germany. IKEA is closing shops nationwide. Every news source is writing about the economic fall out of this and how many billions each day it is costing the nation. Everyone with precarious employment is scared and worried about how they will make ends meet and how long they'll be out of a job. And these are the majority of people affected by the shut down of restaurants, cinemas, bars, clubs and so on.
Right now the coronavirus counter for Germany says: 9360 total cases of infection, 67 people recovered, 26 died. Berlin has 383 cases and no recoveries or deaths so far. Mostly here it's been young people, with at least 50 of them infecting each other in night clubs, which are now also all finally closed as of Sunday.
But amongst all this scariness, there are also small rays of hope. Young people have been leaving notes for their elderly neighbours, offering to do grocery shopping for them, so that the elderly don't have to go outside. There was one note like this today in the foyer of our house. Some people have been leaving rolls of toilet paper for neighbours to take. This gives hope. And the sun also gives hope. And as the tattoo on my forearm says - this too shall pass.
Wash your hands and keep your distance!
The Prelude - fear
Personally my fear of the coronavirus has been growing since the start of February. I normally follow the news very closely and hence knew how dramatic the situation was developing in China and then Iran, followed by Italy. In the middle of February my training therapist was away for a week and after we resumed our sessions the first one was dedicated to my feeling of utter panic. At first it was just a giant shapeless clump that then showed some contours and I was able to articulate what was it that I was so scared of. Turns out the main fear was that Jack and I will both be very ill at the same time and there won't be anyone to look after the kids. "Normal fear of any parent" - my therapist said. Great! Nice to know that my fears are normal. Jokes aside, I was one of the first wave of panic buyers (in German they call them "hamster buyers") and ordered 200 EUR worth of groceries on Amazon that now occupy most of the space under my desk. Unfortunately I missed stocking up on disinfectant, which has become a luxury commodity ever since the middle of January. Thankfully we still had a little left of our old supply.Since then I noticed that fear comes in phases. Each one forcing me to do something else to feel more in control and increase my feeling of safety at least by a tiny margin. For example in such phases Jack and I have completed our power of attorneys in case one of us is incapacitated. We've discussed our preferences for organ donations. We developed contingency plans of how we will deal with a possible infection - how we could arrange isolation of the sick individual (so far it's just been assumed that it's one of the adults). Each of these phases ends with a period of relief and relative calm. Right now I'm in one of these.
The Here and Now
Everything has been developing so rapidly. After the first patient was diagnosed in Berlin on the 1st of March there were increased reports of people stealing face masks and disinfectant. There was even a report of protective equipment being stolen from an intensive care unit in a child oncology ward. Naturally these types of news only perpetuated the feeling that the world was simply disintegrating.Last Friday (13.3.2020) finally the Berlin government ruled to put all schools and Kindergartens on quarantine as of today (Tuesday). It was on that day that people's attitude really seems to have changed. Prior to this there were two groups of people - those who were on the same page as me and those who were of the opinion "oh, it's just another flu". You could almost sense the change in the air and see it on people's faces as the government also said that all theatres, cinemas, gyms and even brothels were shutting down. On Saturday people streamed into the shops and bought literally everything and anything that was left over by the first wave of panic buyers. By early afternoon the shelves were almost completely empty. I have never seen lines in Lidl at every checkout running as far back as the back of the shop. It was just utter madness and desperation.
On Saturday came more government decisions to close borders. First Poland closed its border, which created huge traffic jams of people wanting to get in or out. Belgium already had its borders closed on Friday. A colleague of mine had tickets to fly to a friends wedding, and his girlfriend took an earlier flight but he had to remain in Berlin as his flight was cancelled by that stage because of the border shut down. Last week we heard of neighbouring countries announcing states of emergency one by one. Italy, Spain, Switzerland... It almost seemed surreal. As of today afternoon, no international citizen can come into Germany for the next 30 days. It feels like we're locked in. Even though theoretically we could fly out, but most countries either wouldn't take us, or force us into quarantine, so it does just feel like we're locked in. I was trying to remember how that felt like for the first 10 years of my life in the Soviet Union, but I suppose I was too young to realise it on an emotional level. I certainly don't like how it feels now.
Right now the weather is good, but there are noticeably less people outside. Some people are in masks, but most are without. I ordered some of the N95 charcoal masks for going outside in the next few weeks, but because of ultra high demand they're only going to arrive (if they actually do!) in the start of April. We have a stash of medical single use masks for the eventuality that one of us will get sick at home. We started taking the stairs almost exclusively. Which adds a good extra 5 mins to get out of the house by the time we walk down 15 flights of stairs. And another 7 minutes or so for going back up. I either ride my bike to work, or drive. I haven't been on public transport for the last three months or more.
Jack is working from home. He's been great. He takes the boys outside for an hour after breakfast to get some fresh air and makes sure that they keep their distance from any other people. Then they do homework. I have been at work in the mornings and then as of today started doing Russian homework after coming home. So far my practice is open. I have an agreement with my patients that if they feel any cold or flu symptoms they can cancel their session on a short notice without penalty (normally I charge money for cancellations of less than 48 hours). One of my patients is on so called "voluntary quarantine", after returning from one area of risk. But all others are coming so far. I stopped shaking hands with them for the last three weeks, air the room well between sessions and wash my hands regularly - basically doing everything right to try and avoid infection.
As I was riding home today, it was warm and sunny. If this was any other spring, there would be dozens of people outside, sitting in cafes and sunning in the parks. Potsdamer Platz would be buzzing with tourists. But there are less, a lot less. There are no tourist groups and any people seen around the centre seem to just be going from A to B with a stressed expression on their face. I rode past the deserted Mall of Berlin, which definitely felt surreal. Volkswagen stopped production in Germany. IKEA is closing shops nationwide. Every news source is writing about the economic fall out of this and how many billions each day it is costing the nation. Everyone with precarious employment is scared and worried about how they will make ends meet and how long they'll be out of a job. And these are the majority of people affected by the shut down of restaurants, cinemas, bars, clubs and so on.
Right now the coronavirus counter for Germany says: 9360 total cases of infection, 67 people recovered, 26 died. Berlin has 383 cases and no recoveries or deaths so far. Mostly here it's been young people, with at least 50 of them infecting each other in night clubs, which are now also all finally closed as of Sunday.
But amongst all this scariness, there are also small rays of hope. Young people have been leaving notes for their elderly neighbours, offering to do grocery shopping for them, so that the elderly don't have to go outside. There was one note like this today in the foyer of our house. Some people have been leaving rolls of toilet paper for neighbours to take. This gives hope. And the sun also gives hope. And as the tattoo on my forearm says - this too shall pass.
Wash your hands and keep your distance!
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