95 No Schools, No Pools, Just Rules: A Covid-19 Reflection
Naeva S.B.
I still remember where I was when the Covid-19 pandemic first hit. I was competing in a swim meet in Luxembourg named the Euro Cup which featured the top athletes from across Europe and Team British Columbia had decided to send their Junior Development Team to gain valuable racing experience. We were seated at breakfast when a friend read to me the news about a “Coronavirus” case, and I remember not thinking too much about it. The disease mainly existed in China and felt far away and unimaginable that it might eventually reach Canada. Our flight home had a layover in Paris and it was on that day that France had reported their first Covid-19 case. I remember feeling slightly on edge and wondering how one would get the disease or if I, walking through an airport where someone might have this new disease, was at risk.
Returning home to Canada, life was normal for about two more weeks. At this point, I was a fifteen-year-old, grade ten student living in my hometown of Victoria, British Columbia. More importantly – at least to me at the time – I was a competitive swimmer with my eyes keenly locked on a spot on the Junior National Team. On March 8th, 2020, I qualified for the Canadian Olympic Trials which were to take place in Toronto on March 25th and could potentially secure me a spot on the coveted Canadian team to represent my country. However, as we all know, the world shut down a few weeks before that dream could become a reality. When British Columbia declared a State of Emergency somewhere around the 15th of March, I was crushed. I felt as if my world stopped spinning and as if everything, I had worked towards in the pool had been taken away from me.
Victoria quickly went into a full lockdown following the province’s State of Emergency declaration. My school closed (and remained closed until September 2020), all non-essential businesses (including my beloved pool) closed or altered their services, and social distancing mandates quickly came into effect. My grandparents lived close by in Victoria and I was no longer able to see them, my immuno-compromised aunt wouldn’t even see us outside, and the only interaction I had with friends was online or standing meters apart at our neighbourhood park. It was only after coming to McMaster and hearing the stories of my classmates who had endured Covid-19 in Ontario that I realized how good I had it in Victoria. Since Victoria has fairly temperate weather, I was able to see friends and family outside (if appropriately spaced) the entire duration of the lockdown. Our public health measures had no restriction on time spent outdoors (as I know was the case in other parts of the world) and though I grumpily complained at the time, lockdown meant that I got to spend a lot of time outside with my family. Moreover, since Victoria is located on an Island, we were able to quickly diminish the number of cases by restricting travel to and from the Island. In May 2020 it was declared there were no more Covid-19 cases and restrictions slowly began to lift. Though many businesses and services stayed closed (or unfortunately had to close permanently due to financial struggles), the majority of lockdown measures were lifted in the summer months of 2020. There were various mask mandates, vaccine mandates, and “bubble restrictions” that came into place over the course of 2020/2021 but the strictest measures that restricted you to only interacting with your household and staying put at home, fortunately never fully came back into effect.
Though I was able to see friends outside during lockdown, I remember feelings of shame and blame being associated with these encounters. The course theme of shame was one of the most present feelings I remember experiencing during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, and unfortunately, I do not think it was talked about enough. In this course, we have thoroughly discussed shame being associated with those who have the disease, but in my experience, it had more to do with my behaviours and the fear that those around me were experiencing. As a teenager, I desperately craved social interaction with friends (even if outside) and I remember expressing this to my parents who were forbidding me from seeing others because they were scared I would bring the disease home to my family. I was lonely at home alone and wanted to see my peers but I felt guilty and selfish about wanting to do so and when I expressed this to my parents, they were upset and reminded me I had to do my part to flatten the curve. When eventually, I did see friends outside, I remember people on the street giving us dirty looks (even if we were 6 feet apart) and feeling guilty and shameful that I was so close to others. Eventually, when there were no more cases present in Victoria I went on drives with friends and since my parents would have been appalled that I was doing so, I would pretend that I was on a bike ride and throw my bike in the trunks of their vehicles. Yes, it may have been a slightly irresponsible decision at the time, however, I was attempting to navigate being a teenager, taking care of my mental health, and was worried about the talking-to I would get if my parents knew I was in such close contact with others. Reflecting on the shame that I felt about my behaviours makes me wonder if other teenagers felt similarly and whether that internalized shame may have created long-lasting effects.
Though the Covid-19 pandemic initially took away my dreams of making the Junior National Swim Team, it ended up being a blessing in disguise. In June 2020, frustrated of sitting at home and yearning to help those around me, I began work at Beacon Villa Long-Term Care Home. Officially, I worked as a dishwasher, but since no visitors were permitted to enter the facility, I was also a key source of connection for the residents. I listened to their stories, eased their loneliness, and tried my best to be an uplifting part of their day. Though the Covid-19 pandemic took away my ability to swim and as a result permanently altered my identity (which was undoubtedly the greatest challenge that I navigated throughout the pandemic), it unknowingly left me with much more. My work at the care home left me with a sense of purpose and instilled in me a deep desire to help others, especially those suffering from loneliness. Had it not been for Covid-19, I likely would never have taken a job at a care home and never would have had the experience of being a front-line worker. Though the pandemic was incredibly deadly and left far too many suffering from a multitude of different ailments, I am lucky to have emerged unscathed and with a stronger desire to create change in my community.