Searching for Pandemic Understanding

After four weeks of social distancing and isolation, I woke up with a start this morning. Unlike the stillness that has engulfed my neighborhood for several weeks, I heard the sound of roof work on my neighbor’s house—necessary work to repair a leak. On a “normal” day, on which I must work from home, the noise of machines and workers is not welcome. This morning those sounds gave me comfort. Something was functioning. A problem was being addressed—what a wonder! As I sat at my computer trying to organize lectures and respond to student emails, the hammering sounds lifted my spirits.

How very quickly our sense of “normality” changes. As we anxiously isolate ourselves from our family and friends, we walk, eat, meditate, and pray that tomorrow things might be a tiny bit better, none of which eliminates the worry about our own safety and that our loved ones. Maybe we’ll find out that there are fewer diagnosed illnesses, that there are fewer deaths, that there are more tests and more ventilators that can save more people. So far, the news is not good. We all wonder what our reality will look like when we come to the end of this nightmare. What will the new “normal” look like. Will I live to see it? I, for one, am in the vulnerable over-60 age group. I have had my students doing virtual interviews with elders. They ask them how they are coping with their fear and anxiety, what they doing to stay busy, to stay well, to stay connected to loved ones.

What should I do if I am sick?

Should I expect a ventilator?

What are my chances of survival?

Which information should I trust?

Am I to blame for economic problems?

Every day, I read about politicians making statements about the expendability of elders. In France, if you are over 80 and stricken with COVID-19, you probably will not get a ventilator and are likely to die.

Who gets to decide who to save?

Should elders feel guilty about using medical equipment?

I recently read an article in which a politician said that grandparents would be willing to die for the American economy. After the initial shock that human life should be valued less than financial concerns, I have continued to think about this heartless message.

Is one segment of the population expendable?

What is the cut-off point for the value of a life?

How can anyone make such a horrible statement?

In my classes, we debate the ethics of “active euthanasia” for those who are terminally ill. My students almost always disagree with the notion that one can decide to end one’s life, even if he or she is in pain and terminally ill. I have always applauded their belief in the sanctity of human life? It is very frightening now to hear people take life and death so lightly, to place economics above life.

The coronavirus pandemic presents a new reality for those of us who work to understand and promote later-life health and well-being. We know that chronic stress is extremely damaging to our well-being. How much damage will all this ongoing anxiety do to our long-term health? How can we better manage our anxiety to minimize the damage? How can we develop resilience and combat despair in a society that appears to find us expendable? How can we help others?

Achievement and power are key components of contemporary American society, a society that places a high-value youth and success, a society in which we sometimes forget the value of experience and wisdom. Age discrimination is widespread, will the coronavirus lead to a further increase in such discrimination? Will elders be further stigmatized?

I have always found comfort in the writings of Victor Frankl, who explored the meaning of life in trying times. In his well-known 1946 classic, Man’s Search for Meaning, Frankl wrote about the importance and possibility of finding meaning in our everyday reality—no matter how difficult that reality may be. His brutal personal experience in Auschwitz taught him about the lasting importance of commitment, commitment to work, love, courage, even humor in the face of difficulty. Frankl wrote that there is always a choice, there is always a way to transcend the present, to cope with even overwhelming stress, to gain spiritual freedom. We may not be able to alter our life conditions, but we can shift our stance toward those conditions. By intensifying our inner life, we can find refuge from loneliness and emptiness. We can focus on the beauty of art and the healing power of nature. Frankl also wrote about renewed hope derived from nature's beauty, from mountains, the setting sun, the woods. In these pandemic times, it is a hope that can be comforting.

Searching for comfort in the woods.

Source: Jasmin Tahmaseb McConatha

Frankl suggested that meaning in life results from working, experiencing life fully, reaching out to others, and of course, the attitude we adopt toward unavoidable suffering. In his book, he writes that every age or time has a collective neurosis and that every age must develop a therapy to cope with their collective condition. For me, the therapy for the pandemic is to spend as much time as possible in nature, to watch the birds, to hear them sing, to do what I can to stay healthy, to work, to connect with my family and friends in any way I can, to attempt to foster what Frankl called a “tragic optimism,” a hope that this time will pass without too much pain and suffering. My fear and anxiety, after all, is an appropriate reaction to living life during a pandemic. Accepting the anxiety of our present reality can help us cope. It can help make suffering meaningful. It can provide us with compassion. We are, after all, in this together. I hope that I can use my present fear and loneliness—my suffering—as a way to improve myself. In truth, there is no other option, for prolonged stress is damaging to health and well-being. It is important to approach our current stress with as much resilience as possible. Our approach to our current isolation will ultimately impact our overall well-being.