381 Days and Multiple Journal Pages Later...

On January 30th, 2020, the World health organization (WHO) declared the COVID-19 outbreak a global health emergency. Several days later, multiple News networks advised citizens to be wary of signs of the virus: cough, fatigue, and fever. What was initially frightening about the new virus is that the symptoms are common, and testing was not available for several months. The news influenced me to be *very* mindful of my interaction with the world outside of my apartment room, as it should. It was the general theme of the announcements.

On February 11th, 2020, my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 Breast Cancer. The outbreak became the very least of my family's worries. About two weeks after the diagnosis, my family and I learned that the elderly, infant children, and cancer-ridden patients are at higher risk of contracting COVID-19. At the time, the virus had started to spread in the United States. I thought to myself, "It is only a matter of time until it touches Huntersville." Huntersville is the city where my parents live, as well the parents of several friends of mine. I should have knocked on wood that moment.

On March 3rd, 2020, the virus reached North Carolina, my home state. Even though my loved ones and I have not contracted the virus, I was convinced that my own world is up in flames. A typical overthinker who struggles to control intense thoughts is susceptible to an illusionary end of the subjective world. I couldn't help myself but succumb to that illusion because, in my eyes, my loved ones and I are in official danger, and my mother became terminal. I was facing turbulence in my work-life at the time; looking back, that turbulence was paradise.

What followed the virus's arrival in North Carolina was a year packed with weekend visits as a care-taker, a journal full of medical updates and cathartic entries, hang-outs with friends that were being savored, all-nighter phone calls, and Muay Thai classes.

On February 14th, 2021, my loved ones, the rest of the citizens of the U.S., and I am on standby for the COVID-19 vaccinations. We have to pretty lucky and smart to live this long, regardless of being sick. I feel pretty lucky to be able to continue doing what I love: writing. Here I am writing this entry while my cancer-combative mother is taking a nap. It is only a matter of time before we all receive our vaccine shots and continue with our lives with less weight off of our shoulders.