Note: This is another one of those blogs that isn't complete enough to be a piece of its own, but is still very important and relevant to my previous posts in this piece.

At this stage in my life, and the pandemic, I’m no longer totally indifferent, or deathly afraid, or very sad, and I’m certainly far, far, far from any sort of joy. I’m all of the above and angry. No, pissed. No, indignant. No, that doesn’t even begin to describe how utterly enraged I am. 

Unless you’re literally a cave man, you know what’s going on. 

It’s getting rough out there. My country’s getting absolutely decimated by the pandemic in more ways than just by infections. Driving around the city, and even in my own little town, I’ve never seen so many “sorry, we’re closed” signs and boarded-up businesses. At my local grocery store, the toilet paper, canned and frozen foods, and bottles of water are once again nowhere to be seen. The roads are once again eerily empty. And, if things get any worse, I won’t be able to see my doctors in-person, even though they require me to get a covid-19 test before going into the hospital for more vital tests such as my lung function tests and blood draws. Also, more than a quarter of a million Americans are dead, which is almost one 9/11 everyday this year! 

Yet, more and more people just don’t seem to care. Hell, thanks to our incredibly stupid president, and his administration (which are thankfully on their way out), almost half of the country doesn’t even believe covid-19 is real, and they get a kick out of harassing people for taking the pandemic seriously! Also, my blood boiled when I read that millions of Americans have decided to travel for Thanksgiving to gather with loved ones, despite the pandemic! Seriously, what the actual fuck people?! If we as a country did the bare minimum, we would have this pandemic under control within a few weeks. But, if 40%+ of the country of over 321 million people refuses to even believe covid-19 is real, then there’s nothing we can do except protect ourselves and our families the best we can, and get vaccinated as soon as possible! 

Well, according to lots of people I know, there is one more thing we can do, and that’s pray. But, while I consider myself a Christian and at peace with the “problem” of evil and suffering, which tripped me up for so long, I’m not quite sure how I feel about praying to God during a pandemic. It is true that God is Jehova-Rapha, “The God Who Heals”, and He hears every prayer. But, I’m not convinced God is really swayed by our prayers to do this, that, or the other. I personally believe prayer is just for us as Christians to form a personal relationship with our Creator. But, our Creator’s mind is already made, regardless if we pray or not. 

If God intends to heal someone miraculously, He’ll do it regardless of if someone prays for His help or not. Sometimes God also hears desperate prayers for healing, but ultimately decides healing won’t occur in this realm. This, in my mind currently, is why a proud, edgy atheist can miraculously survive a major car wreck with few injuries, while a young, devout Christain can pass away from cancer despite fervently praying for healing. 

Still, I do think prayer is vital, especially in times like these. I’m deathly afraid of what’s happening, and what seems to be on the horizon. I’ve been having night terrors involving the loss of loved ones to illness, getting sick myself and ending up on a ventilator, getting hit by cars, falling off cliffs, getting swept away in rogue ocean waves, watching someone else I love getting hit by a car or falling off a cliff and being unable to save them, and other things that involve suffering, loss, and death. I truly feel powerless right now, both in my night terrors and in real life. Not only do I feel powerless, I also am powerless. 

All I can really do is protect myself, encourage those around me and those I know and love to protect themselves, and hope everything goes alright. There’s not much more that I can do, especially when someone I deeply care about falls into the trap of misinformation and throws caution to the wind. I guess I can lead a horse to water, but I can’t make him drink. 

These feelings of helplessness, grief, depression, anxiety, and most potent of all, anger, are not unknown to me. This has been my life. However, things are very different now. Before, everything terrible out there seemed to only impact me. Pseudomonas only impacted me. Deadly sinus issues only impacted me. MRSA only impacted me. CFRD only impacted me. Etc, etc, etc. I never had to worry about what may or may not happen to other family members. All I had to worry about was surviving until I could get another lifesaving treatment, which in itself was horrific. 

Nobody, especially a child living in the world we live in today, should have to worry about the things that I had to worry about. And, thankfully I never met another child like myself. The only other disabled kids I’ve ever encountered weren’t really conscious enough to know what was going on. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on with me. No wonder I was such a terrified little girl. 

Now, I’m physically extremely healthy, but deep down inside, I’m still just that terrified, sick little girl. I may not show my emotions very much anymore, but I certainly feel them. Sometimes, my emotions do get the best of me, and mainly manifest as pure terror. For instance, a few weeks ago I was headed to the grocery store with my mom. When we got there, I noticed there were a lot of cars in the parking lot, and many people walking in and out of the store. 

“We’re in Washington. It’s safe! I have an N95 mask and you have your gas mask. C’mon!” Mom said to me, but I refused to leave the truck. 

“No, no, no.” I growled, trembling, “There’s no way in hell I’m going into that store. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere else.” 

“Maya, you’re being ridiculous. It’s the grocery store. Everyone, including us, is wearing a mask. C’mon!” Mom pestered me sternly as she began to exit the driver’s seat. Still, I refused to leave the vehicle, and I was visibly shaking. All I could think about was getting covid from the store and spending time in the hospital completely alone. Staying in the hospital with a loved one by my side the whole time was already a terribly frightening experience. I don’t even want to imagine what it would be like to end up hospitalized now.

I eventually won that battle, and we drove around for some time until we found a much less populated grocery store. However, it’s moments like that that remind me I’m still a scared little girl in the much larger and healthier body of a young adult woman, as much as I try to “act tough” when I’m really very scared. 

No wonder I’m not just scared, I’m absolutely pissed. Oftentimes, fear leads to anger, and anger to hate. Right now, especially right now, I fucking hate Cystic Fibrosis. I fucking hate my hellish past. I fucking hate current events. I am deeply resentful of everything I’ve been forced through thus far, and what I’m currently going through along with the rest of the world. Right now, if I had the choice to snap my fingers and relive my life in a much healthier body, I would. I desperately want to escape this anguishing terror I’ve been experiencing for pretty much this entire year, and especially this fall and winter. I desperately wish I was just another one of those careless fools who thinks covid-19 is merely a cold or doesn’t exist at all. Oh, how blissful that must be.

But, I can’t just snap my fingers and wake up in a body that was never afflicted with the conditions I’ve always had. It’s pointless to fantasize about what my life would be like if I wasn’t born the way I was. For some reason, I was born into a broken body in a fallen world, as all of us are. I just happened to be born much, much closer to death than most people. I’ve been trapped in this prison of a body my whole life, with really no escape. Sure, I’m physically doing extremely well. But, mentally, I’m ruined from my past.

Now, here I am. I’ve made it this far into the pandemic without suffering even the slightest cold, but I can’t recall feeling this afraid and distraught before. Everyday, I pray I don’t get covid-19, and nobody else I know and love does. Yet, things are much worse now than they’ve ever been before. Nearly everyone I’ve physically been around this summer have been infected with covid-19. Lots of my family and friends have gotten sick. Thankfully, nobody has gotten too sick. However, it’s deeply troubling to me. 

I’ve been literally running away from something that has been on my tail this whole time, and now I have nowhere else to run. I’m trapped in Gig Harbor, which is better than anywhere else at this point. But, that damn virus is literally right at my doorstep. I feel like at any moment, I’ll be fighting for my life in a hospital bed completely alone. I’m absolutely petrified and consumed with resentment and anger. 

“Why must it be this way?!” “Why can’t I just get a break for fucking once?!” “Why did this have to happen the year I finally got a second chance at life?!” “I just want to be able to relax! I just want peace! What have I done to deserve this!?”, are just a few things I’ve cried out to God, often in tears as I lay awake in bed in the middle of the night, worrying incessantly about what’s to come. 

Truly, I am once again in hell. It’s familiar, but different. What makes current things different (and harder), is the fact that I’m not the only one at risk right now. Everyone is, especially my older and/or sicker friends and relatives. Not a day or even an hour goes by where I don’t worry about those in my life who are at greater risk of getting severely sick with covid-19. I’m scared for those people. I wish I could just round up all my loved ones and bring them somewhere safe, such as a large cabin in the woods that’s far enough away from society to be safe from covid-19, but still close enough to get everything delivered. But, I can’t. It’s impossible. 

All I can do is stay in close contact with those I know and love, tell them I love them, miss them, care about them, that I need them to be safe and smart, and pray that everyone pulls through this. Beyond that, I can only focus on what I’m doing to keep myself safe, as well as sane. But, I’m starting to wonder if all of these months spent in isolation will be for nothing. Everyday, I grow a little more convinced that I’ll be the next one to get covid-19, and I’ll get it long before I have a chance to get vaccinated.

In less than two weeks, I’ll be going to the hospital in-person to meet my new CF doctor and undergo a few vital tests, even though I’ve begged for a remote visit and to get my tests done elsewhere. I’m almost certain I’m gonna leave that hospital with more than just a paper summary of my visit. 

Fuck, that is terrifying and deeply infuriating.