Going Viral

We are a little baffled. Our armor includes full vaccinations (I even had the booster, although probably too late for it to save me from this infection), diligent mask use, reasonably diligent social distancing, and good health with no particular risk factors. And yet, we both managed to contract Covid—not in the densely populated Bay Area, but in the relative sparsity of New Mexico. Our quick trip to Arizona, a state with considerably less careful practices than either New Mexico or California, was ironically not the culprit. So where did it come from? Probably the Plaza Lighting Ceremony the day after Thanksgiving. Outside, fully masked, but still in throngs of

people. It’s a crafty little virus, and Cal and my Pfizer shots of last spring were likely waning in effectiveness—in addition to the fact that they were not formulated for Delta, but for its genetic ancestor of early 2021. It’s going to be a wild ride, watching how quickly and sneakily this thing mutates. Our current scourge, Omicron, is the best possible thing that could happen to society. One epidemiologist said its incubation is fast its symptoms obvious, and from the early looks of it, non life-threatening. That means it will rip through the unvaccinated population (It’s more contagious than Delta), make people sick, but not kill them or send them to the hospital. It’s a perfect way to get the vaccine-hesitant to participate in herd immunity.

Cal got if first and had a relatively straightforward case of the flu. He gave it to me, and I was sicker, for longer. I got about every symptom Covid patients can get (including a rare, highly entertaining rash), and had a few miserable days. Still, I was never in any real danger of needing a hospital. We had a beautiful place to quarantine—this gorgeous rental Adobe in which we live now--and vaccines that saved it from being much worse. It gives us stories to tell--everybody seems to want to hear of our experience with Covid. Perhaps most annoyingly, my senses of smell and taste are broken—which is kind of a bummer during Christmas. But the biggest blessing—NOBODY in our contract tracing chain got the disease. All got tested. All were negative. And what a relief, not to have to feel responsible for that. It’s bad enough to have to call people and tell them you have it. Oddly, Hallmark does not have a card that says “Sorry I exposed you to Covid.”

I consider my tangle with the virus to be my latest New Mexico adventure. We are back out in the world, now that our quarantines are over. We still practice all required protocols even though, for a while at least, we feel pretty bullet-proof having had three shots apiece plus an actual case of the disease. We are making up for lost Santa Fe holiday time, going to concerts, seeing small groups of friends, taking the Farolito Walk up Canyon Road on Christmas Eve. Our sense of security will last for a bit, at least until Omicron gives way to its progeny, and their progeny, and theirs—and we reach a place where the virus Cal and I are immune from doesn’t bear much resemblance, genetically, to the current-day threat.

And so it’s onward. It’s celebration and exploration and friendship and love in the time of Covid. We faced down the enemy and, thanks to miracles of modern science, don’t bear any real scars. Or ones that are too few, and too inconsequential, to dwell on. The Plaza Lighting the day after Thanksgiving may have been our vector. But now, on Christmas Eve, the winking lights of Canyon Road’s farolitos beckon.