Before the pandemic hit, it had already been many years since I went out regularly. I don't drive or like being around people, so it's almost always easier to stay home and order the things I need online while running my business and handling my other responsibilities around the house. Strangely, though, I never developed any real anxiety about being out in public. If I felt like it, I could easily head out to the county fair, or the beach, or something, have a great time, and probably even want to go back the next day.
I feel entirely differently about all that today for obvious reasons. Now, when I see other people, I no longer see minorly annoying fellow humans that might -- at worst -- try to suck me into a boring conversation I don't really want to have. I see walking, talking meat-bags filled with germs and death that can absolutely kill me, especially if they're not masked up properly. And I feel like the outside world has become a dangerous place I'm best off avoiding. I'm not embarrassed to admit that I find the idea of getting COVID (or seeing anyone I care about get it) positively terrifying.
In other words, while I'm grateful to be able to have access to a vaccine, I'm hyper-aware of the fact that to get vaccinated in the first place, I will first have to go out unvaccinated into that big, bad world filled with walking, talking germ bags at least twice. And so will Seth. Naturally, I have a lot of anxiety about that on both counts, especially when it comes to Seth. I still have nightmares about the time he almost died in the hospital of pneumonia years ago. I also realize I'm far more worried about him getting sick and leaving me all alone in the world than I am about getting sick myself, although that would also suck.