My teaching semester has ended. I spent much of the weekend (and Monday) grading papers and final exams. It was one of the most difficult grading experiences I've ever had. So many of my students struggled because of the switch to fully online courses mid-semester. I had students who were battling depression, anxiety, unemployment, illness, and the death of relatives. I ended up feeling like any student who actually finished the school year deserved some kind of medal.
I myself have sort of been battling my own array of demons these last few days, as well. Worry laced with anxiety dappled with sadness topped with stress. While I won't discuss all the causes of my current state of mind, I will say that I have been averaging about four hours of sleep a night for about a week. On Monday, it was three hours.
The world is starting to reopen slowly. Businesses are unlocking their doors. I just found out today that my home church will begin to hold weekend Masses at the end of May. Now, I know that we weren't going to be sheltering-in-place forever. However, after only a month or so, suddenly flattening the spread of the virus is taking a backseat to the economy.
As my last post detailed in not very subtle terms, I am not a fan of this premature relaxation of social distancing and isolation. I am diabetic. I also have asthma. Those two conditions don't mix well with coronavirus. Throw into that the fact that I work in a hospital, and you may get some idea of what has been keeping me up at night.
So, you'll forgive me if I'm not lighting off fireworks right now. I don't see much cause for celebration. We've made it through the initial outbreak of the virus. And now, people are going to start moving, travelling, returning home. Coronavirus 2.0 is on its way.
That is why I've decided to practice a little more self care. That doesn't mean I'm going to become completely selfish in my actions. It means that I'm not going to neglect my body or mind or spirit. I'm going to be more self aware of things/situations/people that could possibly be detrimental to my health and well being. And I will not allow that to happen. I will make changes.
Call it Saint Marty 2.0.
poem from Kyrie
by: Ellen Bryant Voigt
Circuit rider, magic leather credential at my feet
with its little vials of morphine and digitalis,
I made my rounds four days at a stretch
out from the village, in and our of their houses
and in between, in sunlight, moonlight,
nodding on the hard plank seat of the buggy--
it didn't matter which turn the old horse took:
illness flourished everywhere in the county.
At Foxes' the farmhouse doors were barred by snow;
they prised a board from a window to let me in.
At the next, one adult already dead,
the other too sick to haul the body out--
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