close to home
I don't tend to post much about RL stuff. Fandom's my safe space from an increasingly hostile world. But. Y'know. It's hard to escape sometimes.
I live in New York City. Today the governor announced a ban on most public gatherings of more than 500 people, and restricting attendance on smaller events. Broadway theaters have been shut down effective immediately; most smaller theaters are following suit.
For a decade, I made my living as a freelance theater stage manager, sometimes supplemented by a day job. I still take gigs occasionally -- just turned two down last month due to conflicts, but with a slight tweak to my personal schedule, I would be in rehearsals right now. And I'd likely be out of work for the foreseeable future if that were still my primary source of income. I wouldn't have health insurance, either. I'd still be better off than most, but I'd be terrified right now.
I'm not in that position anymore. I'm one of the fortunate ones. I have a steady job with a nonprofit where we are permitted to work from home occasionally, and "occasionally" is likely to become mandatory in the near future. Tomorrow the entire organization is required to work from home as a test of how we manage it. I'm hoping it goes well. I commute on a packed subway train for forty-five minutes every morning and again every night, and that's getting a bit nerve-wracking. Although every day this week, the train has been a little less crowded than the day before.
Another marker of my privilege: I'm not particularly concerned for myself if I do get sick. I'm relatively young and otherwise healthy. My odds are good.
But my wife is not one of the lucky ones. She has rheumatoid arthritis, has since she was a teenager. To manage that, she's on immunosuppressant meds. That means she will get sick. Every mild cold that just annoys me for a few days knocks her flat for weeks on end, usually turns promptly into bronchitis. That sort of thing. If she gets this, she's likely to end up in the hospital. And even knowing this, her boss is not permitting her to work from home. So yeah, I'm kinda terrified on her behalf.
I'm not a very paranoid person. I don't let myself freak out about stuff like this. We've got a bit more nonperishable foods in the cupboards than usual, and my wife stocked up any non-prescription meds she commonly needs, but that's the only real concession we've made. We're not panicking. But we are scared.
It would be nice to have some faith in the US government at a time like this. That's obviously not the case right now. If we dodge a full-blown health crisis, it will be by sheer dumb luck. I want to believe that massive public policy changes will result from this, that we'll all wake the fuck up and realize that all our people are people who deserve empathy and respect, and that a society is only as strong as its weakest members. That health care is a fucking right and not a privilege. That people who have or will lose all their sources of income during this deserve help. But I've become very disillusioned of late. It's been more than seven years since Sandy Hook and nothing has changed; how could I possibly believe this will have any kind of impact?
Sorry. Don't mean to be so pessimistic. I'm just scared, like everyone else. I hope we all get out of this okay.
Be safe, friends.
This entry was originally posted on Dreamwidth. Comment wherever you'd like.
I live in New York City. Today the governor announced a ban on most public gatherings of more than 500 people, and restricting attendance on smaller events. Broadway theaters have been shut down effective immediately; most smaller theaters are following suit.
For a decade, I made my living as a freelance theater stage manager, sometimes supplemented by a day job. I still take gigs occasionally -- just turned two down last month due to conflicts, but with a slight tweak to my personal schedule, I would be in rehearsals right now. And I'd likely be out of work for the foreseeable future if that were still my primary source of income. I wouldn't have health insurance, either. I'd still be better off than most, but I'd be terrified right now.
I'm not in that position anymore. I'm one of the fortunate ones. I have a steady job with a nonprofit where we are permitted to work from home occasionally, and "occasionally" is likely to become mandatory in the near future. Tomorrow the entire organization is required to work from home as a test of how we manage it. I'm hoping it goes well. I commute on a packed subway train for forty-five minutes every morning and again every night, and that's getting a bit nerve-wracking. Although every day this week, the train has been a little less crowded than the day before.
Another marker of my privilege: I'm not particularly concerned for myself if I do get sick. I'm relatively young and otherwise healthy. My odds are good.
But my wife is not one of the lucky ones. She has rheumatoid arthritis, has since she was a teenager. To manage that, she's on immunosuppressant meds. That means she will get sick. Every mild cold that just annoys me for a few days knocks her flat for weeks on end, usually turns promptly into bronchitis. That sort of thing. If she gets this, she's likely to end up in the hospital. And even knowing this, her boss is not permitting her to work from home. So yeah, I'm kinda terrified on her behalf.
I'm not a very paranoid person. I don't let myself freak out about stuff like this. We've got a bit more nonperishable foods in the cupboards than usual, and my wife stocked up any non-prescription meds she commonly needs, but that's the only real concession we've made. We're not panicking. But we are scared.
It would be nice to have some faith in the US government at a time like this. That's obviously not the case right now. If we dodge a full-blown health crisis, it will be by sheer dumb luck. I want to believe that massive public policy changes will result from this, that we'll all wake the fuck up and realize that all our people are people who deserve empathy and respect, and that a society is only as strong as its weakest members. That health care is a fucking right and not a privilege. That people who have or will lose all their sources of income during this deserve help. But I've become very disillusioned of late. It's been more than seven years since Sandy Hook and nothing has changed; how could I possibly believe this will have any kind of impact?
Sorry. Don't mean to be so pessimistic. I'm just scared, like everyone else. I hope we all get out of this okay.
Be safe, friends.
This entry was originally posted on Dreamwidth. Comment wherever you'd like.