Kelly Kenoyer
Every week I tabulate the dead to create the COVID graphs for this newspaper.
Each life snuffed out by coronavirus is a line or less on my spreadsheet. When they’re local I take particular note, and there are more of those than ever these days.
I’m so tired of watching the numbers climb, of hearing experts warn of overwhelmed hospitals, their tears apparently ignored by a public inconvenienced by wearing masks, let alone forgoing seeing their friends and family.
Those who won’t sacrifice for the life and health of others tell me, “I’m just so sick of it!” Well, I am too. I’m tired of wearing the masks, I’m tired of not seeing my parents because I don’t want to get them sick.
This week’s newspaper includes a paid advertisement with what I believe are false claims about coronavirus, which urges you to stop wearing masks. Don’t buy it. Listen to experts: this pandemic is coming into its deadliest phase.
It is quite likely that, by the end of the year, nearly one in every 1,000 Americans will have died of this disease. We are losing an entire generation of Americans. Grandparents and great-grandparents who will be missing at Thanksgivings and Christmases for years to come.
I don’t buy into the idea that the elderly are a worthwhile sacrifice for a normal life in these next few months. I don’t buy into the idea that they should die so a few so-called patriots can have the freedom to breathe on others.
More people died of COVID-19 on Dec. 9 than the total death toll for 9/11. We changed the way we travel permanently because of that attack, and we went to war over it. Why is that level of carnage not worthy of a response now?
By the time this newspaper comes out, more than 300,000 people will have died of this disease in our nation alone. That is 100 times the death toll of 9/11, our ever-remembered tragedy. How will we remember the dead of this disease? Why are so many already forgotten – mere statistics on my spreadsheet?
Our case fatality rate in the United States is 1.8%, and that’s with all the best medical care available to all patients.
In Italy, where hospitals were overwhelmed in the spring, the fatality rate surged to 14.5%. Crematoriums were as overwhelmed as the hospitals. I do not want to see that here. I do not want my grandmother or mother or father to die.
That surge in deaths will happen if we don’t act. We have to work together as a society to protect each other. It is simple: Stay apart from people whom you don’t live with, and wear a mask when you can’t avoid it.
Do you really want to risk being someone else’s cause of death? The prospect gives me nightmares.
You may say: Well, I don’t feel sick! Why should I wear a mask? But you can get others sick even before the onset of your symptoms. That is why we wear masks: in case we’re already carrying death with us but haven’t realized it yet.
It’s true the CDC didn’t tell us to do it until July. This is a new disease, and research takes time. But the science and the public health recommendations have stayed consistent since: wearing masks protects others from infection if you are a carrier, and can help protect you from contracting the disease as well.
The logic is straightforward: The air you breathe doesn’t travel as far when blocked by a mask, so combining that shield of fabric with 6 feet of distance can save lives.
I am going to forgo Christmas with my family this year. The risk is far too great. Even though my parents are healthy and in their 50s, they have a 1 in 1,000 chance of dying if they contract it – worse odds if they can’t get medical help if it’s severe. The long-term impacts of this disease can be terrible as well, and may prevent my parents from enjoying their active hobbies.
Then there are COVID long-haulers like Darrah Isaacson, a 40-year-old Oregonian who contracted the virus in March.
Speaking at a Dec. 11 press conference with Gov. Kate Brown, Isaacson fought tears as she spoke about the long-term consequences of her brush with the disease.
“Many of those long haulers like myself were very active, healthy, no underlying health conditions, you know, working out, taking care of the kids, getting things done,” Isaacson said. “My family loves to hike and bike and camp and can do. And we didn’t do any of that this summer, because I can barely walk around the block now, 10 months after my initial infection.”
“Many think it’s not worth the precautions, the masking, the distancing the, you know, social isolation that some of this has caused. Some people think that this is just like the flu. I can tell you from personal and horrible experience, that that way of thinking is extremely dangerous. This is an unpredictable and terrifying disease.”
Isaacson’s heart, lungs and brain continue to be affected, and she has been to the emergency room three times since June. She can’t hold a computer mouse, and sometimes can’t stand up long enough for a shower, she said.
“I think the hardest part ,though, is the effect that this has had on my family. Especially the relationship with my 5-year-old daughter. I can’t play with her anymore,”she said. “A few months ago, she told me, ‘I wish you were like a real mommy.’ And that was truly heartbreaking. Still brings me to tears every time I think about it.”
Most Oregonians don’t see the press conferences I do, where doctors cry on camera thinking about their patients, and where people like Darrah Isaacson share how their lives have been devastated.
My job forces me to look this disease in the eye and see its consequences. I understand that for others, it is easier to look away. But I beg of you: don’t turn your back on your fellow Oregonians. It is your civic duty to protect the most vulnerable from harm. Please: wear a mask, and take the vaccine whenever it’s your turn.
If we want to get herd immunity, the safest way to do it is with vaccination. We can protect each other and ourselves if enough of us take this vaccine.
I’m eagerly awaiting the opportunity to take that needle in my arm, even though I’m unusually frightened of needles. I know that taking that vaccine is the best chance we have for a true return to normal, not just the new normal. And hopefully, we can get there with plenty of members of my grandparents’ generation still around to share their stories.