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A lonely birthday in the epicentre of Coronavirus - New York City

Filed under Coronavirus

1 April 2020

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This post is by Marge Lipton, former ABC News producer, who is isolating in New York.

It was the loneliest of birthdays. I live by myself on the upper west side of Manhattan and celebrating with friends in the middle of a pandemic was out of the question. So I turned to chocolate and ice cream and called it a day. Happily, I received lots of cheery phone calls. Since most of the world is cooped up all day, using a phone to actually talk has become an “activity.”.

Here in the epicentre of global Covid cases, life for me is simply on pause. I sit alone in my apartment most of the day reading, listening to soothing music and watching TV. I can’t concentrate on much more.

I try and keep my news consumption to a minimum and change the channel if Trump is on. The building has a new rule of no more than two people in the elevator at a time. Often, I see my neighbours preferring to go solo. Deliveries are gathered on tables in the lobby as the deliverers are not allowed upstairs anymore.

At first, I’d go to the senior hours at the grocery store. Then I started ordering on-line. But delivery spots were hard to get, and the quirky little items I craved were long gone. So now I’m just eating through what I already have.

No one should feel sorry for me. I am among the lucky ones. I’m retired and paid off my mortgage a few years ago. I have medical insurance through Medicare, the government run insurance system for those over 65. I’m not recently unemployed nor do I have screaming kids at home.

I think what scares me is the possibility of winding up on a flimsy cot, dying all alone in the middle of Central Park or in the Javits Center, and then being shipped to one of those white refrigerated morgue trucks.

But as a former journalist who traveled the world, I fully grasp that I’m not a refugee, battered woman, prisoner, or in any other impossible situation. There’s almost a sense of guilt that all I’m being asked to do is sit on my couch. In covering the news in too many trouble spots, I always knew I would eventually return to the safety of America.

Now, need I say more? Wealthier New Yorkers, like the wealthy everywhere, have fled to their second homes in the country, spreading the virus and angering the year rounders in those hamlets. Most of the residents of my building haven’t gone anywhere.

I have friends who are terrified, living in neighbourhoods where people are not complying with social distancing and are out in the streets in numbers.

There are others who wash off the soles of their shoes and put any clothing they’ve worn outdoors into the washing machine as soon as they get home.

I’m still going for an hour walk in the early morning to keep my sanity. Is that wise? I’m not sure. Just yesterday I walked by the pier along the Hudson River where the Navy ship Comfort was to dock. It was a few hours before it was due.

Later I saw photos of hundreds of people greeting its arrival.

Were they crazy, did they even think they might be among the first patients? I guess what I’m saying is what I’m seeing is a hit and miss adherence to “social distancing.” So far, it’s been friends of friends or relatives who’ve been hospitalized. Unfortunately, I’m sure that will change.

What strikes me most is the future that faces all too many people. I’ve seen figures of 25-35% unemployment, calling what’s coming the Greater Depression.

I grew up with parents who survived the Great Depression. They were scarred from it for life, I realize they never spoke of friends who had cannily weathered that storm. Maybe they didn’t know of anyone.

It’s a stroke of fate that I - their daughter - have not known of their deprivations. Here in the US we may all soon experience the kind of thing my parents had to endure in the 30s and 40s.