On my day off I found myself sitting in a cubicle at the local COVID-19 phonebank. As I donned my headset and clicked “answer” I had no idea what to expect. “Hello? Hello. I’m worried about my daughter. She works at a company that hasn’t closed. They are still making her go to work. I want to report them.” Anxiety manifested as anger, anger as an attempt at action.
Business owners rang with new obstacles; “I’m the head of a large condominium, I have no idea what to tell my 1000 residents if someone gets sick. They can’t just move out.” The director of a congregation asked, “What if one of our workers had an exposure? They have no symptoms but came to work. Do I have to tell everyone? I don’t want to scare people”
Daily practicalities were highlighted. “I’m in my 80s and I need to know if I can let delivery groceries into my house. I haven’t left in 3 weeks but I need food.” As one question was answered another would come, “Should I wipe down every snack bag? Or leave the items in the garage for 5 days so the germs die?”
Social constructs challenge our fragile understanding of this infectious threat. A divorce means a mother lacks knowledge about her child’s exposure when he is with his father. New questions surface - how do we determine which parent’s house is safer for quarantine? Lack of insurance leads to further divides in the system for low income citizens, another obstacle to obtaining a test. Vulnerable times, like those of transitioning from pediatric to adult care, leave gaps stranding young adults in limbo with this unforeseen need.
And then there were the symptom calls: Sore throat? Subjective fever? Tight feeling in the chest? Maybe exposed? History of asthma? Recent travel? Someone in the neighborhood positive? What about a contact of a coworker? I attempted to risk stratify based on their exposures and symptoms, but a voice in my head kept reminding me that so many are carriers, so many asymptomatic, so much is still unknown.
Despite it all, my belief in humanity was reinforced. A woman calling because she may have had an exposure and doesn’t want to expose others. A tutor advocating for more masks to keep her students safe. A condo owner asking if his residents could help deliver things to the elderly in the building. A daughter calling for her mother. A father calling for his son. A relieved “thank you” at the end of a question-filled phone call.
The virus has been around since December but there is still is so much we don’t know. The fear of the unknown is layered in every phone call. And as I heard my final “I have another question...” of the day, all I could think was that I wish I had a better answer.