When the 2020 COVID winter\’s short days and cold nights sucked away at our souls until we started ripping into each other, we knew it was time to go. But where? Good question. Anywhere that wasn\’t here and was COVID free. But that doesn\’t exist. We agreed on a socially distant, health responsible road trip. To where?
\”South.\”
\”West.\”
We went Southwest.

Rosinante, the 22-foot RV we got a dog ago, when we planned to celebrate our Gypsy\’s last winter with a road trip, has been wilting in the driveway for two years. Gypsy didn\’t make it to the winter, and Rosinante didn\’t get to make the trip. But the time had come.

Her better days came when our worst did. We loaded her with everything, from frozen home-cooked meals, Tide pods, bags of quarters, and canned soup, to every junk food known to man. We hit the road, heading South with a vengeance. We rushed towards above-freezing weather and toilet flushing territory. We flew through NY, NJ, and MD into warmer VA, then GA, FL, and T-shirt weather.

Socially distancing was a no-brainer. At home, it was hard to say no to friends and neighbors who wanted to meet. But down south, nobody wanted to see us. In one month, 11K miles, and 20 states, we socialized once. My friend Chris and his family wintered RVing in Texas. They treated us to Ceviche and Pickle Moonshine while keeping six feet apart. All of us, but Guinness and Finn, whose budding romance flourished by smelling each other\’s assets.

Steve never went indoors, except for a couple of hotel rooms when we were too tired to drive. He never bought anything but gas. I masked when provisioning or when talking to people I couldn\’t avoid.

Every day brought a new challenge, from avoiding fire ants in Florida and boondocking in Nevada to finding free dump stations along the way. We ate fried chicken and biscuits for breakfast in Georgia, drank Peach Bourbon in Alabama, and found out that you\’d better like Mexican food in the south. And barbecue.

Interacting with the natives was another challenge. They didn\’t do masks.

In Florida, I ordered take-out from a barbecue joint. I put on my mask and went to get it. A well-fed family of five enjoying dinner on the porch stopped chewing to stare at me. I gave them a wide berth and stepped in. The restaurant was jam-packed with happy people chatting over chicken fried steaks and Texas toast. As I entered, the place fell into silence. You\’d think I was a masked robber with an AR15 rather than a graying woman looking for her baby back ribs. They stared at me with wide eyes. I struggled to stay out of the way. They clearly knew I was deranged; they just didn\’t know what I\’d do next.

Parents covered their kids\’ eyes. Old couples leaned closer to each other. Everyone stopped chewing. I was the life of that party. I didn\’t get an entry like that ever since I went to a fancy-dress party in a full Ebola suit.

My food showed up. When I left, they sighed with relief. So did I.

Steve was waiting back in the camper.
\”How was it?\”
\”Bad.\”
\”You know that Florida has a 20% positivity rate?\”
\”Only?\”

It was remarkable to be there while we, up North, think there\’s a pandemic. People were friendly, polite, and social, just like we used to be before 2020. They laugh, eat out and behave like this COVID thing never happened. They were even kind to deranged people like me.

It was disturbing to see how far apart are the parallel realities we inhabit. I ponder this as we drive past vans advertising mobile COVID testing and listen to Governor DeSantis reassuring Floridians that their vaccines are on the way. Travel is always an eye-opener, even when you travel in your own bubble, since every now and then, bubbles intersect. Seeing these people, you understand why they don\’t believe in COVID. Nobody else there does, to the point that you question your own sanity.

For those of you interested in traveling, I\’ll answer a few recurring questions. Feel free to ask more. For those of you interested in our trip, stay tuned for more.

1. What was your itinerary?
We went south to Assateague, MD, where wild ponies still roam free. They\’re the great-grandkids of the colonists\’ tax-dodging horses. Then further south through the Chesapeake Bay, dodging suicidal seagulls, then further south through GA all the way to Key West (don\’t bother). Back through the Panhandle, then west, to San Diego, and North to Death Valley before heading back home through Tennessee, WV, and Pennsylvania.

2. What did you take with you?
Frozen and canned food. Dog food and snacks. Fruit. Water – lots of it. Wine and Bourbon. Snacks. The winners were pretzels, boiled eggs with hot sauce, microwavable popcorn and cheese and crackers. The loser: salad. It all went bad.

3. What surprised you the most?
Texas. It\’s clean, generous, and polite.

4. What did you find most useful?
Rada: The unlimited data and the apps. Thanks to them, we found places to spend the night, launder, get propane and dump our black tank for free. I love Campendium, Recreation.gov, and JustAhead. The Lifetime Senior America the Beautiful Card saved us hundreds of dollars in park fees and campgrounds.
Steve: NPR FM radio.

5. What was the hardest?
Steve: Driving between the lines. An RV doesn\’t track like a car. It needs to be steered all the time. Any time I glance away, it goes elsewhere.
Rada: Traveling with a puppy is nothing like traveling with an old dog, especially when said puppy manages to snag herself in barbed-wire. Turns out that I forgot the first aid kit. That was the lowest moment on my trip. Thank God for Duct Tape.

6. What did you enjoy the most?
Steve: Big Bend State Park. I loved sitting in my lawn chair sipping Bourbon and looking at the Rio Grande.
Rada: The change. Every day was a challenge; every night was different. I never got bored. I even fell behind on my writing since I couldn\’t switch off.

7. What did you hate the most?
Steve: Driving through cities.
Rada: I didn\’t love Virginia.

8. What did you learn?
Steve: Propane tanks fill very slowly, and few places do it. Our success rate was 1:3. Three tries before getting the tank filled.
Rada: Sanitary wipes work wonders when there\’s no water.

9. What would you do differently next time?
Steve: Skip Florida.
Rada: I\’d have a first aid kit that could cure cancer. Or close.

10. Would you do it again?
Steve: Absolutely. Will do it again.
Rada: We\’re planning for Alaska this summer.

11. What would you tell someone who\’s never done it?

Rada: Be flexible. Every day is different. Make sure to have paper maps for when the internets get iffy. Be prepared to spend the night along the road.
Steve: Get off the interstate and travel the back roads if you want to see what it\’s all about. It takes longer, but it\’s so worth it.

12. What is a must in your book?

Rada: Assateague. Texas is amazing. Organ Pipe Cactus. Death Valley. Steve:Barbecue. Not that good, but it\’s a must.

13. The best food on the trip?
Steve: Barbecue. Hilton in North Carolina. Boy, did that guy know how to cook.
Rada: Indian food in a truck stop where they played cricket.

14. Any advice you want to share?
Steve: Don\’t hook up hoses when things may freeze. For that matter, don\’t bother with hookups. They\’re nothing but trouble.
Rada: Beware of getting locked in together for a month in a space the size of an elevator. Lots of togetherness with no place to go. But boy, does being home feel luxurious!

Stay safe and stay sane. See you all on the other side.

Rada

P.S. Let me know if you\’re interested in an ARC, Advanced Reader Copy of my new book, BECOMING K-9, a bomb dog\’s memoir. It\’s the story of a puppy\’s training written from the point of view of the dog. You could get a free copy before publication if you agree to leave an early review.

Some say 2020 is the year of disasters. Others say it\’s the year of change. To me, 2020 is the year of rage. In 2020, rage overtook the world, consuming us and hurling the leftovers against each other.

The right is angry with the left. The social distancers are angry with the beach-goers. The mask wearers are angry with the mask haters. The protesters are angry with the system.

Like a lid on a boiling pot, the lockdown intensified the pressure. The upcoming elections turned up the heat, spurring strangers to feud on social media, destroying old friendships,  and making loving families spew hate over the dinner table.

What does that mean for us, the healers, who already struggle with a failing medical system, COVID, the lockdown, the lack of PPE, the racism, and the riots?

First, we must recognize that we are not immune. Whether you\’re black or white, Democrat or Republican, female or male, and whether you see it or not, you are likely infected with the rage devouring us all. Denying your anger won\’t make it go away. It will only make it harder to manage. Whether you see it or not, the endless string of bad news shortened your fuse too.

And unlike others who may have the luxury of time, you and I live and work on the front line. We can\’t retreat to consult our inner wisdom and get in touch with our feelings before we act. In our line of business, we need to be ready for whatever comes through the door, whether it\’s codes, traumas, or angry people.

Patients are anxious and worried. They hate to wait; they loathe the mask; they become impatient, unreasonable, sometimes violent. They want their family. They ask for a COVID test for their sprained ankle. They request hydroxychloroquine with the Z-pak they need for their cough.

Nurses are angry. They\’re exhausted. They go home to home–school after their shift, instead of sleeping. Their spouse got furloughed, their mortgage is due, and they worry about their mom in the nursing home. They\’re tired of dealing with angry patients. And it\’s just so damn hot under all that PPE.

Doctors are angry. They\’re exhausted by fighting COVID and reusing their PPE; they\’ve had enough of avoiding their family for fear of getting them sick; they\’re enraged by seeing their hours cut, the unpaid mandates piling up and their vacation plans fall apart.

Your family is angry too. They\’ve had enough of social distancing and being cooped in the house. The kids got the heebie-jeebies and want to be out with their friends. Your spouse is tired of home-schooling them, watching bad news on TV, and eating in.

So, in this world consumed by anger, how can you manage to stay calm and professional and keep everybody safe?

1. Recognize your anger, so you can manage it before it blows up on the floor, taking your career and your reputation with it.
2. Get enough rest. It\’s hard to be professional with the patient asking for a Viagra script in the middle of a code when you\’re tired.
3. Don\’t postpone your bathroom breaks. Rushing to see patient after patient on a full bladder will make you resentful and shorten your fuse.
4. Don\’t go \’hangry.\’ Plan ahead. Smoothies, fruit, string cheese–whatever you can manage. Not coffee. Coffee is not food. It\’s life, but not food.
5. Take a time-out when you feel you\’re losing it, even if it\’s taking a two minutes walk to the furthest bathroom.
6. Don\’t say yes to unreasonable requests, like bad shift changes, giving medical advice in the elevator or writing scripts you know you shouldn\’t. Decline, and move on, otherwise your frustration will catch up with you.
7. Practice circular breathing, meditation, or relaxation.
8. Work out—the harder, the better. Kickboxing works for me, but running, hiking, or biking will do. Get rid of that adrenaline.
9. Laugh. Laughing diffuses tension and softens lousy situations, and not many situation are so bad that you can\’t laugh at them. And it\’s good for the soul.
10. Talk to a friend, a spouse, or a coach. Investing in a career/life coach can be cost-effective. A few years ago, when I struggled with burnout, I hired a coach. I paid for six sessions, but I only needed four. Work got easier, life got better, and I recovered my smile.
11. Do things that nourish your soul. Not the news or violent movies. Make a date with yourself: visit a museum, plant a tree, play the violin, take a photography class, go parasailing.
12. Play. With the kids, the dog, your significant other. Playing brings back the child in you and brings light to the darkness inside.
13. Practice compassion and gratitude. Remember how lucky you are to be who you are and have what you have.
14. Recheck your malpractice. The time of healthcare workers being heroes is about to be over. Before long, we\’ll be talking about how the medical system failed us. Cynical, I know. But bad things happen to good people. Be prepared.
15. Ask for help before it\’s too late. Healthcare professionals, especially women, have high rates of divorce, substance abuse, and suicide. Yes, it\’s the stress of the job, but it\’s also because we\’re so bad at asking for help.
16. Cut yourself some slack and reward yourself for good behavior. Be proud for keeping calm, and don\’t berate yourself for losing it. Learn something and move on.  You\’re only human, after all.

Finally, remember that this too shall pass. Hold on to the things you cherish: your family, your career, your sanity, and wait for the times to change. Because they will.

Rada Jones is an ER doc in Upstate NY. She lives with her husband and his deaf black cat Paxil. She is the author of three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER,” a collection of medical essays.

A version of this essay was previously published on Doximity.com.

1. Both masks and underwear exist to contain badness. Neither works 100%, but they\’ll curb the worst of the spill.
2. Don\’t borrow someone else’s, no matter how cool they look.
3. Keep them on around strangers, unless you’ve both been tested.
4. Cotton breathes better than polyester.
5. If they don\’t fit well, you\’ll be chaffing.
6. Wear them both when you visit grandma.
7. They stink at the end of the day.  They need frequent washing.
8. They\’re affordable and a worthwhile investment.
9. The lighter they are, the better you breathe.
10. Adjusting them in public is a no-no.
11. They\’ll cover your cold sores and droopy assets, making you more attractive.
12. Taking them off counts as foreplay.
13. They\’ll cover the drools and the drips.
14. You shouldn\’t stick your nose out of either.
15. They won\’t silence you. From MAGA to BLM, they help with your self-expression.
16. They cover revealing body language: your mask hides your smirk, your underwear hides it whenever your flag rises to salute foreign territories.
17. If you\’re looking for extra excitement, you can get them see-through.
18. They help block bad smells.
19. It\’s always a good plan to have a spare.
20. For both: cleaner is better.
21. They showcase your personality. Granny’s whites are to red lace thongs what an N95 is to a gauzy rainbow.
22. They only work if you wear them.
23. In extreme situations, you can switch.
24. In 2020, they\’re both highly recommended.
25. It feels wonderful to take them off at the end of the day.

BUT: 

1. While nobody cares about your undies, everybody cares about your mask.
2. Mask are more effective than undies as fashion statements.
3. Your undies never saved a life.
4. It\’s hard to make a political statement by underwear alone.
5. Your undies are for yourself, but your mask is mainly for the others.

Rada Jones is an ER doc in Upstate NY. She authored three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER,” a collection of medical essays.

My honeymoon with Thailand ended yesterday.

We live in a condo in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Signs on every door warn: No Mask, No Entry. Most people comply. Some don\’t. I ignore them unless they try to join me in the elevator. If they do, I wave them away. \”Not without a mask, please.\”

Yesterday, a tall farang (white person) I know well did the same. The man wanting in went berserk. He burst into the elevator punching and kicking. The farang responded in kind. Security came, then the police. Since it turns out that legitimate defense is illegitimate in Thailand, they got both got fined 100 baht each – about $3.

The good news:

1. The farang  was able to afford the fine.
2. Getting punched beats getting shot.
3. Being fit is always a plus.
4. I have an excuse to start learning Muay Thai.

This incident – flabbergasting in a country where 95% of people wear masks – got me thinking. What about wearing a mask drives people insane to the point of shooting others and accusing doctors of crimes against humanity?

It\’s hard to understand, especially for somebody working in healthcare. Even before COVID, OR folks wore it every shift. We, in the ER, wore it for the immunocompromised, the flu-like patients, and whenever we got the sniffles. We double-mask for stinky affairs like fecal disimpactions or trench foot.

Do we enjoy masking? Hell no. We enjoy breathing just like you do, and masks don\’t help.  Wearing them for hours isn\’t fun. Nor is wearing bras, helmets, seatbelts or high heels, but people wear them to protect themselves and fit in society. Masks are more critical: we wear them to avoid killing others by breathing our germs over them.

Masks are uncomfortable. I know. Health care workers choke under so many layers of hot, heavy PPE that they can barely recognize each other. They get bruised from wearing masks for too long, and they get blisters behind their ears. To help with that, savvy businesses invented gadgets to protect them. And I won\’t even mention lipstick, my favorite morale booster, that I had to give up. But we still wear masks, at work and out in public. Why don\’t the others, even though all health care experts recommend them?

To understand, I asked my Facebook friends: Why would you NOT wear a mask? I unleashed a deluge of anger and insults. How dare I even ask?

\”Use your degree to stand firmly and unilaterally in the message that we NEED our citizens to wear masks in public, all citizens, all the time. Otherwise, you look STUPID and irresponsible. Any opinion other than \”everyone should wear a mask\” is STUPID. Get on the right side of history. STRONGLY CONDEMNING people who do not wear masks is the first step. We don\’t have TIME to understand people\’s backward illogical uninformed reasoning.\”

I don\’t know about you, but I don\’t enjoy people calling me stupid. I question their smarts  and common sense. I also feel the urge to do the opposite of what they want, just to piss them off. Does that sound familiar?

Being yelled at may be one reason that people don\’t wear masks. I think a civil conversation may accomplish more.

The inconsistent message is another.  At the beginning, it was: \”Masks don\’t help, and we don\’t have enough of them. Leave them for the healthcare providers.\” Months later, after stumbling through bandannas and thick scarves, by the time the message became: \”Whenever you\’re in public, wear a mask, \” people had lost trust in the messengers.

Even now, there is no unified message. The American government disregards its own health experts\’ guidance on masks and social distancing. Every state and every county has different rules that change every day. People no longer know who to believe.

Unlike many adopters of national mask policies, who value discipline and conformity, Americans hate being told what to do and feel the mask is an assault on their freedom. Unfortunately, that contributed to our high COVID numbers. Thailand – who had the first COVID case outside China –  had a total of 3185 cases, 58 deaths, and no community transmission in weeks. Compare that to the US numbers.  2.9 mil cases, 130K deaths and 58K new cases on July 3rd. Yes, Thailand has 70Mil people, while USA has 328 mil. Still.

Wearing a mask has a lot to do with who we are. The average mask wearer is older, urban, female, high earning, and Democrat. The mask haters are the opposite. They are also less concerned about getting sick. Remember:  You don\’t wear a mask to protect yourself; you wear it to protect the others: The old, the frail, the immunocompromised.

Masks can be uncomfortable and hot and interfere with breathing, especially when working out. And while CO2 accumulation is a myth – otherwise no surgery would ever happen since everybody in the OR would pass out – masks do increase the breathing effort of those who already have trouble breathing and may cause hyperventilation in those prone to anxiety. To that, I say: Not all masks are created equal. You don\’t need an N95 to walk the dog. Use the mask you can breathe in. A mask is better than no mask.

Sadly, the mask has been weaponized into a political symbol that deepened our national divide. Despite the pictures of refrigerated trucks full of dead bodies, some still believe COVID is a Democratic hoax propagated by the media, unless it\’s a Chinese ploy to destroy America. The president thinks that only people who dislike him wear masks, therefore not wearing a mask is a pledge of allegiance.

Some think masks are ineffective. Then why bother wearing them? It took time for the medical community to learn about COVID and its transmission. And we\’re still learning. But experiments,  studies, and guidance indicate that masks, social distancing, and hand hygiene curb the virus spread.

As per BMJ, \”in the face of a pandemic, the search for perfect evidence may be the enemy of good policy. As with parachutes for jumping out of airplanes, it is time to act without waiting for randomized controlled trial evidence. Masks are simple, cheap, and potentially effective. They could have a substantial impact on transmission with a relatively small impact on social and economic life.\”

A few quotes from my friends:

\”How would a non-mask wearer feel if they came into an operating room to have their knee replaced, and the surgical team WASN\’T wearing the super-duper space suit attire used to prevent the devastating complication of an infected prosthesis? What if no one had a mask on?\”

\”In years gone by, we weren\’t bombarded with all these ideas, recommendations, etc. I am spent with the effort it takes to go out. Do I want to go out and expend the effort of a mask, having hand sanitizer and the 6 ft rule to purchase a plant, a loaf of bread…?\”

\”One problem is the random enforcement of mask-wearing and social distancing rules. Protestors and rioters were allowed to violate every rule without the threat of fine or jail.\”

\”Some don\’t wear masks because of communication problems. They can\’t hear well. It makes people feel unseen and unheard. We all want to be seen and heard. The mask feels like a gag.\”

\”The conspiracy nuts that think the government is trying to control us and take over. What dystopian society will allow citizens to walk about their day with their identity hidden behind a mask?\”

\”It\’s difficult for a deaf person who needs to read lips to understand what people say… American sign language includes body language and facial expressions….\”

\”Masks are to PPE like frosted flakes are to a balanced breakfast. Alone, they\’re about as useful as that proverbial screen door on a submarine (or, to farmers like me, tits on a bull). Masks are an added safety measure like the Nader pin in a car. It won\’t protect you when you hit a tractor-trailer but can help keep the door from opening during a rollover and ejecting the passengers.\”

Bottom line: Masks work. Recent studies show that masks, social distancing, and hand hygiene help curb the spread. I hope that a unified message, education, and a vaccine will stop the spread. But remember that your right to not wear a mask doesn\’t preclude your responsibility to not infect others. If you don\’t wear a mask, stay home. Everybody\’s health depends on all of us.

That brings us back to the beginning. The man who assaulted the tall farang could have used a mask, take the stairs, or wait for another elevator. He chose to fight instead. Why?  It\’s not all about the mask. It\’s about the anger. He got so angry that he was denied access to \”his\” elevator that he failed to see the other \’s right to not be exposed.

Sadly, these miserable days that holds true for all of us. We\’re so angry that we refuse to see the others\’ point of view. Blinded by our anger, we make bad choices. Recognizing how our anger poisons us is the first step to managing  it and be able to communicate and work together.

Rada Jones is an ER doc in Upstate NY. She lives with her husband and his deaf black cat Paxil. She authored three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER,” a collection of medical essays.

I called her #1. She called me #3.

Like seasons inhabiting the same garden, #1 and I married the same husband at different times. She was his spring, blooming with hope. I\’m his fall, as we ripen into winter.

He\’s no longer the man she married fifty years ago. Life smoothed his corners and softened him a little. But he still throws water over pigeons, stands on the horn at traffic lights, and puts empty bottles in the fridge like he used to, as #1 and I glance at each other and laugh.

No longer. #1 died yesterday, and my world got emptier.

She was kind to me, twenty-some years ago. I came to America with a kid and two suitcases to join a husband I barely knew. We had some rough times, and we needed a friend. She took us in like she did her many strays.

We stayed friends even when her relationship with her ex went sour. They shared fifty years of friendship broken by fights that not even their divorce could end.

I haven\’t seen her in a year. We lived far apart, and our last visit didn\’t end well. I went to bed to let them talk, and I woke up to find her gone. Her shoes, their toes touching, were still where she\’d left them. They fought; she left without saying goodbye, and I still wonder how she made it home.

I loved her sharp sarcasm, dark sense of humor, and love of animals. I loved her sprawling Vermont home that made mine look tidy. She collected everything: old magazines, Ukuleles, her dog\’s hair to make a sweater. Her home was rich with memories, though not with places to sit. One time we showed up with wine. We stood drinking around an old MG, watching the llamas roam around disaffected cars and a hen scratching the dirt to teach her chicks how to look for worms.

We had a lot in common, #1 and me: our love of food, wine, and animals, our interest in psychology, our dark humor, our husband. We were close friends.

Whether you like it or not, you have a lot in common with your spouse\’s ex. You must like similar people since you chose the same partner. They\’ll know a lot about your relationship, since they walked in your shoes, got the blisters, and lived to tell the tale. They\’ve been through it all: the toilet paper hanging backward, the moments of doubt, the harsh words, the failed expectations. They\’ve been there.

#1 and I, we were lucky. Buffered by #2, we never had anything to fight over. I didn\’t envy her, she didn\’t envy me, and we understood each other without words. We shared a smile over our husband\’s head whenever he said something we both found outrageous. But it\’s over now.

Never again will I feel the warmth of her hug, inhale her earthy smell, and laugh at her stories about our mother-in-law before she became our mother-in-law. Never again will I have a sister-wife who knows how it feels.

She passed away, and my world got emptier. Just like it did years ago when my ex died. His name was Romeo, and I miss him. After we finally called it quits and got over our anger, we rediscovered why we got together in the first place. He was my best friend until he died.

So what\’s your point, you ask?

Get over your grudges and befriend your exes if you can. Treasure them while you have them. They are part of you in so many ways: part of your life, your children, your memories, your unfulfilled hopes. Your world will be emptier with them gone.

Rada Jones is an ER doc in Upstate NY. She lives with her husband and his deaf black cat Paxil. She authored three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER” a collection of medical essays.

This is the Thai\’s government daily Covid update for May 20 2020 (2563 in Thai, since not only are they forward thinkers but they use the Buddhist calendar.)

Loose translation: On May 20, 2020, for a total population of almost 70 million people, Thailand had 3034 confirmed cases (+1 since the day before), 2888 recovered (+31 since the day before), 56 deaths (no change). The new case is a repatriated Thai citizen in state quarantine, like most new cases for weeks.

Per the European CDC, that brings Thailand to 44 confirmed cases per million, and 0.8 deaths per million. For comparison, the US has 4838 cases/million and 290 deaths/million. Sweden, (who never locked down) has 3249 cases/million and 389 deaths/million.

Steve and I spent the winter in Thailand. We were here when the pandemic exploded in Wuhan, when Thailand diagnosed the first case outside China, and when the world shut down. We weren\’t yet ready to leave in March, then flights became scarce, until they disappeared. International flights to Thailand are closed until July. And it\’s a long walk home.

The first sign that things were getting funky came in February: the Chinese tourists crowding the streets and malls disappeared almost overnight. All of a sudden, traffic started flowing, the restaurants turned quiet and the shops uncrowded. The locals loved it. Until the restaurants and shops started closing due to lack of business.

Then people started wearing face masks.

Ignorant, we thought. But, out of respect for the locals, we started wearing them too, even before the government made them mandatory.

Then came the Emergency Decree and the 10 to 4 curfew. Nonessential business, from malls to massage parlors, were closed, including all restaurants, public pools, and entertainment venues. That put the last nail in the coffin of tourism, and bankrupted many cash-poor businesses. Flights got cancelled, schools closed, city buses stopped.

But Thai being what they are – flexible, pragmatic, and funny – most non-essential businesses, from IT stores lo lingerie shops, made themselves essential overnight by offering face masks, safety glasses or hand sanitizer.

The biggest event of April is Songkran, the Thai New Year – an alcohol-fueled week-long street party celebrating rain. Passers-by shoot water guns and douse each other with water. Businesses sell ponchos, safety glasses and booze, and offer barrels and hoses with free water for refueling. Songkran is the time of wet t-shirts, phones wearing zipper bags, and drinking with wet strangers for young people of any age.

This year, Songkran was cancelled. To encourage compliance, the government declared a week-long alcohol ban making Thailand go dry. The ban was announced two days early, so everybody got to stock up, and the hospitals were notified to get ready for the inflow of new cases – not of Covid, but of alcohol withdrawal.

To encourage compliance, the government provided daily updates on the state of COVID, including summaries in English detailing the number and provenience of new cases and deaths, and insisting on social distancing, masks and hand hygiene. They organized field hospitals. They are now stockpiling Favipiravir, (Avigan) to prepare for the second wave.

But for now, they\’re letting loose. After the number of new cases went down to single digits, the economy slowly restarted. Mom-and-pop shops, then small outdoor restaurants, now parks, malls, gyms and hairdressers. Still closed: Bars, cinemas, entertainment venues, muay-thai arenas, bull fighting, fish fighting, and massage parlors.

I expected the pent-up demand to explode everything into opening on day one, like a piñata. Not exactly. Businesses are taking their time. The famous Chiang Mai walking streets, always choking with food, shopping and entertainment, are empty. The Saturday Night Market street was a post-apocalyptic scene on Saturday night, empty but for the ghosts of Saturdays past.

Thai adopted the idea of social distancing. So much so that passers-by will give you ugly looks if you walk without a mask, restaurant owners will send you to wash your hands before serving you, people will wave you away rather than share an elevator, and bikers will wear a mask even when they don\’t wear a helmet – both required by the law.

Most Thai support the closure of entertainment venues, even though many struggle: the bar-girls in Loh Kroh, the elephant sanctuaries, the massage parlors, the tuk-tuk drivers. The Phuket airport is closed. Drones patrol the Pattaya beaches, keeping sun worshippers away. Chiang Mai hasn\’t had a new case in weeks, but our pool is still closed.

Even beyond the government\’s requirements, the opening is slower than we, expats, would like. Very cautious too. Before allowing you in, malls check your temperature and take your phone number, for screening and tracing. Thankfully, they use forehead thermometers, otherwise we\’d be hurting.

After a successful trial on mice, Thai researchers are testing a new vaccine on monkeys. Another step towards normal, even though the new normal won\’t be like the old. That\’s not all bad. If I had my say, the days of hugging and kissing casual strangers would be over. So would overcrowded highways, rat-sized cubicles, sardine-packed planes, air pollution and two hour commutes.

Thinking of you all. Missing you, and missing life as it used to be. Don\’t know when we\’ll be back, but we\’re OK. I hope you are too.

Stay sane, stay safe, and see you on the other side.

Rada Jones is an ER doc in Upstate NY. She lives with her husband and his deaf black cat Paxil. She\’s the author of three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER,” a collection of medical essays.

You asked how we were.

We were good. The Chinese tourists headed home, traffic abated, pollution dwindled and the crowds died down, to the point that one could scratch in the elevator.

Then the smoke started. Fires along the hills started by locals to clear the forests for the wild mushrooms Chinese treasure. The air quality went down like a rock and masks sprouted everywhere, from scooters to supermarkets. Everybody wore them, but us. We’re American. We know masks are useless. Still, we tolerated the ignorant masked Asians.

Until the Thai Health Minister’s talk. As Chiang Mai chokes under smoke, he blasted the dirty Farangs  (non-Thai) who fail to shower or wear masks, putting everyone in danger.

The light went on. Our lovely housekeeper, shocked that we went out without masks, wasn’t asking for advice. She was giving it. Here, wearing a mask is a way to protect others. It’s not about not catching the others\’ cooties. It’s about not giving them yours.

We started wearing masks. Got to tell you, breathing through a mask is a challenge. Eating and drinking too, unless you use a straw. And they’re bad for the environment. Not to mention that fried chicken with lime has a hard time getting through.

The good news: No more congestion in Chiang Mai. The streets, the restaurants, and the shops are empty. Not like I\’m bragging, but toilet paper is on sale. Here, toilets have spritzers.

Due to customer shortage, our favorite restaurants started closing. We decided to go out more often to support those who are left. It was too late.

Next, schools, kindergartens, clubs, pubs, spas, massage parlors, boxing stadiums, and all entertainment venues were closed. Gyms, pools, restaurants and just about everything else followed one day later.

Yesterday we walked to our morning market and loaded on essentials:  oil, sugar, hot peppers and pork. We\’re good with TP. On the way home, we stopped at a coffee shop for breakfast. For 130 baht (4 dollars) we got a cappuccino, an espresso, a mango smoothie, and a butter croissant. We left a generous 15 baht tip. Come back, they said.

We wish.

Bangkok closed down all venues where people meet. Chiang Mai followed. Everything but food shops, pharmacies and hospitals closed yesterday. The requirements for flights in are impossible to meet: negative COVID test within 72 hours  AND 100K of health insurance. Not for the weak of heart. All flights out are canceled till April 25^th.

We looked at each other. We have toilet paper, soap, and rum. Books. The internet. Eachother. We’re better off than most.

But I hate being closed in and being told what to do. Claustrophobia?  A special type of PTSD? Crossed wires? I’d rather be hungry than locked in, and I’m always hungry. I know I’m better off than most. But I need to run free. Except that I can’t.

I looked at Steve, happily reading his book as he’s watching the news.

“You’re lucky I’m writing this book. It may save your life.” I said.

I’m 60K into this complicated book about Dracula’s gay brother and Mehmet the Conqueror. It requires extraordinary amounts of research and planning, just as I had to cancel my trip to Istanbul. I\’m fumbling between oodles of books, word documents, PowerPoint, and a room covered with index cards. This book is not for the weak. It\’s Game of Thrones meeting Hunger Games via Harry Potter, the Transylvanian edition.

Steve stares at me. He doesn\’t get it.

“Can you imagine living locked up with me for weeks?”

He got it. I can see the fear in his eyes. I hope the book is enough.

Loads of love to all my friends who work in healthcare. love you, miss you, and thank you for everything you do to keep our world safe. You all are heroes. Stay safe.

PS. I plan to report every few days, but I won’t clog your Facebook feed, I know you have better things to do. If you want to follow, please sign in for the updates.

PS 2. I just found out that Martial law starts tomorrow. I\’ll keep you posted.

Stay home and stay safe. See you all on the other side.

Rada

Rada Jones MD is an Emergency Doc in Upstate NY, where winters are long, people are sturdy, and the geese speak mainly French, but right now she\’s wintering in Thailand, maybe forever. She lives with her husband, Steve, and his black deaf cat Paxil. She’s the author of three ER thrillers: OVERDOSE, MERCY, and POISON, and a collection of tongue-in-cheek medical essays, Stay Away From My ER. Find more at RadaJonesMD.com.

1. Take it easy. The worst part of all this is the fear. More people die from the flu, car accidents, or guns. As of Saturday, March 7th, 19 Americans had died from Covid19, compared to 1177 every week from the flu, 746 from car crashes, and 294 from gunshots.

2. Wash your hands like your life depends on it. Because it does. Not only for Corona, but for the many germs you’ll acquire from touching elevator buttons, doorknobs, or somebody else’s hand. Or the dirtiest thing on earth: money: Everybody handles it, and nobody washes it. Except for the mob. And me, when I forget it in my pockets.

3. Stay home if you’re sick. Same with your children.

4. Disinfect frequently touched surfaces: Shared pens. Door handles. Water taps and toilet flushes.

5. Avoid meetings and crowded spaces, especially those hard to leave from, like planes, conferences, and churches.

6. If you want to chill with your friends, go outside: go skiing, hiking or skating rather than bowling, clubbing or the movies. More fresh air and fewer germs.

7. Cough and sneeze in your elbow or shoulder or in a tissue, not in your hand.

8. Stay away from those who sneeze, cough, or look sick.

9. Vaccinate. There’s no vaccine for Corona yet, I know. Still, more people have died from flu this year than they did from Corona all over the world.

10. If you have a fever and body aches, take Motrin or Tylenol, stay home and call your doctor.

11. Don’t touch your face or pick your nose. It only contains what it always does, boogers. But if you must, at least wash your hands first. And after.

12. Keep well hydrated with water, Gatorade, or the fluid of your choice. Note: Corona beer isn’t named after the virus, isn’t infused with it, and it won’t give you the disease. Unless you share the bottle with somebody who’s sick.

13. Remember that, unless you’re old and ill, you’ll likely recover fully, even if you catch it. Better odds than for bike crashes, bad investments, and fights with your spouse.

14. Make sure you have advanced directives. This isn’t about Corona. It’s about being prepared and in control of your life no matter what happens.

15. Rest, relax, and live healthily. Stress, lack of sleep, poor nutrition, and poor hygiene will weaken your immune system. Get enough sleep, eat well, and wash your hands. Again.

Don\’t: 

1. Don’t shake hands. You don’t know where their hands have been, and you don’t want to get whatever they acquired there. Smile instead.

2. Don’t eat, drink or scratch your face if you haven’t just washed your hands really well with water, soap, and enthusiasm. Wash them like the toilet paper was too thin.

3. Don’t visit all-you-can-eat buffets, and don’t try food samples. Remember the celebrity who licked a doughnut then put it back? She’s not the only one. Sitting by the table of a buffet dinner cured me of buffet dinners. The things people do when they think nobody’s watching will make you shudder.

4. Don’t share masks.

5. Don’t go visit grandma in the nursing home if you have the sniffles. Call her instead.

6. Don’t go to the ER unless you’re deathly ill, immunocompromised, or really bored. You’ll spend a long time there, get loads of rotten looks, get irradiated, and get a hefty bill to pay, plus everybody else’s germs. The one thing you’re unlikely to get is a straight answer since testing kits are still hard to come by.

7. Don’t eat things that aren’t supposed to be eaten. Avoid pangolin, bats, civet cats, and bush meat. Avoid socializing with them too.

8. Don’t expect a Corona vaccine before next year. Vaccines take a long time to develop, because: 1) They need to work. 2) They need to be safe. That takes time and testing.

9. Don’t have unprotected sex. Not Corona specific, other than sharing body fluids, but it’s good advice. Other viruses like HIV and Herpes, also Syphilis, Chlamydia, and their other friends are looking for a loving host. Don’t let it be you.

10. Don’t call the ER to ask if they’re busy. They’re busy. Even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t give medical advice by phone. Call your doctor, and wait for them to call back. They will, as soon as they catch up with the sick and the many worried-well.

11. Don’t rub yourself all over with garlic. That’s not for Corona, that’s for vampires. Though, if you eat raw garlic, most people are likely to keep their viruses away from you.

12. Don’t share an ice cream cone, water bottles, or cutlery. Don’t let people taste your food, and don’t try theirs, no matter how good it looks.

13. Don’t drink bleach. It won’t help. Unless you inhale it, bleach goes to your stomach, while the virus targets your lungs. It will hurt, A LOT, as it burns your throat.

14. Don’t believe all the stuff you read on social media. Misinformation has become an infodemic.

15. Don’t share it either. Prayer is good for the soul, but it’s unlikely to destroy the virus. Corona is not a hoax, a democratic ploy, or a biological weapon released by the Chinese. It’s not invented by vaccine companies to make money. Otherwise, they’d sell it to you now. Elderberry, vitamins of any persuasion, or getting exorcised are unlikely to help. Wash your hands.

Rada Jones MD is an Emergency Doc in Upstate NY, where winters are long, people are sturdy, and the geese speak mainly French. She lives with her husband, Steve, and his black deaf cat Paxil. She’s the author of three ER thrillers: OVERDOSE, MERCY, and POISON, and a collection of tongue-in-cheek medical essays, Stay Away From My ER. Find more at RadaJonesMD.com.