It was March 17th, 2020 when my life ended. Not in a literal way, but just as bad. This was the day when it became official. Coronavirus took away my ability to sit in a classroom and tune out my professor. This was all because it was too “risky” and “unsafe” to be back on campus. It was probably the right thing to do, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. According to researchers, when the virus enters the body, it fuses itself to the membrane of a cell and releases a small piece of genetic material called RNA. The cell reads this RNA and creates copies of the virus, allowing it to take over the body and infect more cells. Of course, the terror doesn’t stop there. The virus can then form droplets in the lungs and one cough sprays those droplets onto a surface where it can survive for hours. Now, not only was it invading the cells of its victims, but it was also invading my space. Since the virus is so contagious, scientists invented “social-distancing,” which meant avoiding face-to-face contact with anyone who isn’t your immediate family. The email said to move out by the 22nd.
After the initial shock of a premature move-out and being forced to spend the next five months in a house with six other people, I was fine. Totally and completely fine. After all, everyone else was just over-reacting. I mean the virus couldn’t be that bad. People had survived worse, right? There was the third Cholera outbreak in 1954 where gross, infected water was making people sick and was reduced by a smart scientist removing the handle of a water pump. Of course, that was bacterial and the only way to get rid of a virus is to hope your immune system can fight it off. But, I knew my family would be okay because we were untouchable. Nothing big had ever affected us. All we had to do was wash our hands (since soap has the magical capability of prying the membrane of the virus off of the cells) and avoid touching our face. Easy peasy. Until March 24th, when I found out my cousin had the coronavirus.
Oddly enough, after finding out about my cousin, I still felt dangerously calm. Maybe because he was doing fine, and recovering. Or maybe because I was able to get in touch with my friends for a game night through Zoom. (Take that social-distancing!) Either way, I found it hard to believe this disease that was so unknown three or four months ago could be declared a pandemic now. Even more astounding is that it started because someone was feeling adventurous and decided to eat a bat. A bat! A blind flying rat, with leathery wings and vampire teeth! As shocking as this news was, I still found it hard to be angry at this person. I, too, spent my youth wanting to be batman. However, this thrill-seeking led to the consumption of a mutated strain of a virus typically carried by bats called SARS, or severe acute respiratory syndrome. This mutation, which we lovingly call the coronavirus, is genetically similar to SARS, hence its ability to be carried around by a tasty bat. Combining this mutation with a possible intermediate animal, some salt, and a hungry human and we had ourselves an outbreak.
Apparently, with outbreaks, there is an exponential increase in the number of people who are sick which eventually flattens out and people begin to recover. Not to mention my favorite pastime, avoiding strangers and all social interactions in general, can also help decrease the spread. Having to stay six feet apart and limiting my time outside definitely brought to light everything I had been taking advantage of; brunch restaurants, toilet paper, being able to sit in a class without having to worry about my very loud and rambunctious family. We may still be in an upward trend of the graph, waiting for the plateau, but it will be over soon. It has to.