The Covid Perception Disparity

Dianne Cabelus Braley

source: National Museum Of Australia

The familiar ding rings out from my phone. I pick it up. GRADUATION PARTY, it reads, with the date and time. I sip my morning coffee, curious. It’s been months since I received an invite; maybe life is slowly creeping back to some sense of normalcy. Places have been re-opening, and Governor Baker recently loosened restrictions…but a party? I look closer, surprised not to see any further detail.  Nothing about COVID or social distancing. I hand my husband my phone.

“Hmm,” he mutters.

After a chat, we decide to go. A good friend’s daughter is graduating high school. We agree to social distance and wear our masks, deciding to leave if we feel uncomfortable.  

“Ready,” I say, pulling on my mask as we drive up to the house.

I immediately feel relieved when I see two people also wearing masks getting out of the car in front of us.

“See? People get it,” I say to my husband as we walk to the door.

I can tell he’s skeptical.

In the middle of a global pandemic there’s a lot to talk about. Every day we hear the new case counts and death totals in the state and across the country. Inundated with science and data, we listen around the clock to opinions and facts about this virus that has turned the entire world on its head. What is harder to talk about, though everyone is feeling it, is the COVID-19 perception disparity.

There are three camps, as far as I can tell: the believers, the non-believers and the fatigued—the ones who are just “over it.”  There are also people who wax and wane in between them all, depending on the day. I counted myself in that latter category when COVID broke out, though now firmly consider myself a believer, relying on the best-known science and safety precautions.

Unfortunately, even among our most well-intentioned family and friends, we find people acting in ways we find risky and unsafe. Conversely, others feel that we’re playing it too safe, even extreme. Under such differences of opinion, how can we not judge each other? How do we find unity in isolation? How do we combat loneliness? How do we maintain the relationships we cherish when a difference of opinion can threaten our health, our livelihood, our lives?

 “Hey!”

My friend appears in the doorway before we get a chance to knock. She isn’t wearing a mask as she invites us to come inside.

“Should we just head around back?”  I ask, nervously, hoping not to insult her.

“Sure, if you want to,” she says, looking at me awkwardly. “There’s a tent, but a small one. It’s starting to rain so everyone’s inside,” she finishes, trying to muster a smile.

I can tell she is either feeling judged, or is judging us, or both. We walk around to the back and sit with the other masked people we saw when we arrived. The four of us are alone in the small yard, six feet apart. Thunder claps and the rain pours down, leaking through the tent. My husband raises his eyebrows and looks at me. His new I told you so look. A transformation from his pre-mask smirk.

The four of us sit quietly, making occasional small talk, united, but strangely alone. 

Dianne Cabelus Braley is a registered nurse blogger and freelance writer from Massachusetts. @diannecbraley