I have been to Manhattan only once since I was tested (negative) for COVID-19.
It was to pick up a prescription at a pharmacy across the street from my doctor’s office, which sits a block over from Times Square and only spitting distance from the touristy stretch of 42nd Street. Armed with a mask and gloves that our roommate had left in a bag with other post apocalyptics, I was impressed that the New Yorkers I encountered respected social distance with adamance. The few people on our almost empty train car positioned themselves as far away from each other as possible.
But somewhere along the ride it dawned on me that this is typical behavior even with no viral catastrophe. New Yorkers, who understand we live on top of each other, have learned how to disconnect in transit to conserve energy for the workday. Seeking social distance is habitual. With so many folks (mercifully) at home, this was easier.
In fact, my goal is not to minimize the gravitational pull of this disease or undermine CDC appeals that we stay home. But going out was not dramatic. Even my bank run here in Brooklyn, to get quarters for laundry in my building, meant waiting in a discrete cue drawn in cursive around the lobby by people who did not need to be prodded into responsible COVID-19 civility.
As someone fortunate enough not to need a hospital currently—and I say this with not an ounce of wry hyperbole—I have no idea what is going on in them beyond what is being reported. I am watching and reading just like everyone else in the country. When loved ones, colleagues, friends and family member began calling to check on me, I assumed it was par for the course. One particular text alerted me that my location specifically is the source of great worry.
This is when I put it together: without a real snapshot of a lived experience in coronavirus-stricken NYC, folks imagine The Walking Dead, where fat-encased, life-threatening microscopic proteins replace zombies in actively chasing us down streets so overrun with rude, incompliant miscreants that the sensible few of us can’t escape.
I am as aware of news outlets appearing on lists of businesses imperiled by the novel coronavirus as I am journalistic tendencies to sensationalize crises even in the best of circumstances (my communications degree helps). So there is a measure of sensitivity I have when I shake my head at headlines like the one beneath Cuomo on my screen the other day: “NY GOV: 253 PEOPLE HAVE DIED IN THE STATE SINCE YESTERDAY.” The ticker scroller further down read that NY has the most confirmed cases of the virus in the world.
There were no qualifiers at all.
For example, the fine print does not account for the fact that testing, which is not available as readily in other states nor broadly practicable without substantial medical manpower (and perhaps government support), is a function of how many cases of the virus are confirmed. Since our medical facilities are overwhelmed and desperate for ventilator and staff support, every bit of news underlining the problem helps. But death toll comparisons between New York and other places made without per capita qualifications become alarming. And I have yet to see the information put in the context that with 19.4 million inhabitants, we are the fourth largest state in population.
Combine this with images of refrigerated trucks to store the bodies and you get panic.
It’s not just New York of course. The Washington Post published Fauci’s expectation that the U.S. will lose anywhere from 100,000 to 240,000 lives to the novel coronavirus even with mitigating efforts. This will devastate, no doubt. For perspective, however, there are 330 million people in America; losing half of 1% of the population would mean the deaths of 1,650,000 people, almost seven times what Fauci predicts. If we get through this viral attack losing less than a seventh of one half a percent, we should be very thankful.
The 1918 Spanish Flu killed 675,000 Americans, which was 2% of this country’s population at the time, for comparison.
And if we take death toll comparisons outside of viral plagues, it may be worth considering that 800,000 Tutsis and moderate Hutus were slaughtered over 100 days in Rwanda. In 1994, this was 84% of the Tutsi population.
Qualifiers, context, perspective—all of it helps. And often, too little of it is present. The composition of the televised news about New York outside of and including these examples is clarifying. No wonder everyone thinks I’m one grocery store trip from pneumonia, hence this blog. I just want to assuage worry about the New York that is clearly not making it to the news, the New York I currently live in.
A lot of us are fine, I among them.
I promise.