After the events of 1968, the author Joan Didion was flummoxed by the tumultuous events of that year.
So many things happened then
Kind of like now.
She had a hard time concentrating and writing was hard.
She said, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
I imagine she found herself floundering a bit.
Kind of like we are today.
Historic things were happening.
Kind of like today.
She wrote the book “White Album” in that year. I imagine the title inspired by the Beatles’ White Album. It is about race and tumultuous times that threatened to rip our nation asunder.
However, she did not have a deadly pandemic at the same time.
I have been floundering a bit these past few weeks.
All I seem to do it work, be on call, write my blog, occasionally feed my husband.
When I am not doing those things, I doom scroll, watching for news.
I stare into the middle distance when I am not even doing that.
This is not me.
I am a go-getter, someone with a thousand things to do and a hundred things always going on
All of my meetings, which is one way I engage with other nurses, have been cancelled because this nation is in the grips of another surge.
I feel we are on the brink of another quarantine.
I feel as if elective cases may be paused soon.
I feel tired watching all the people running around without masks and hugging and going out to dinner and going to birthday parties.
And I want to scream.
Mostly I feel tired.
This past year has been very grinding on the healthcare system as a whole.
I hope we get a grip on it before we are ground away to nothing.
As we, as a nation, are on the brink of 400,000 dead, it is hard to grasp it.
I find her words comforting.
We are all just stories after all.