Choices and Consequences

I think it is pretty safe to say that each of us will be exposed to coronavirus. The level of community spread is suggestive. We’re beyond dodging it. The world is tired and we’ve become fatigued to the whole ordeal. Healthcare is overwhelmed.

With school back in session – kids are getting sick, despite masking efforts and attempts at distancing. This is no argument about kids needing to be in-person or not, it’s just what is happening. The school system has offered a virtual option, even though that isn’t possible for every child and family. We have no vaccine for children under 12 years just yet, and new viral variants are teaching us that these kids are susceptible. Most kids will have minor symptoms, some will be worse, some may have chronic effects, and sadly some will die. We knew this would happen as we started gathering again, but it’s difficult to be in the thick of it again.

Ages 12 and up: We can try to dodge it with distance and masks. We can choose to take a vaccine, our only tool to reduce risk of severe illness. We can choose to live life as normal, get sick, hope for mild symptoms, hope we don’t infect many others, and hope that there is a hospital somewhere with the ability to help us if it gets bad. We still have to pray that there is a hospital with the capacity to save us should any other normal life health issue arise – appendicitis, a ruptured gall bladder, a cardiac event, or some trauma.

More people will die from the virus or from delayed access to care because the system is overwhelmed. People with pre-existing conditions, and people who are seemingly healthy. This appears to be our current reality, albeit difficult.

1) A choice to do nothing, or simply hope for the best.
2) A choice to do something to try to reduce the chances of exposure and spread (distancing, masking, etc).
3) A choice to take a vaccine to reduce our chances of becoming critically ill. A medical decision to make with your doctor.

We’ve politicized. We’ve blamed. We’ve jumped into one camp or another over every little piece of this. The divisiveness has not gained us much ground. We’ve learned so much and we still have more to learn, but these are our choices. However, freedom of choice doesn’t necessarily mean freedom of consequences.

These are challenging times. Many are grieving. Our resilience is being pushed to its limits. May we all extend some grace to ourselves and those around us. May we all make good choices for our own health, those we love, and our neighbors. There will come a day that we will all have some degree of protection and life is not so disrupted by coronavirus. We’ll see a new normal again. Other diseases will come. We’ll use what we have learned with COVID-19 to improve our response. Be kind and be well.

Published by Justin Jornigan

1987 model, gently used, a little rusty. Husband to Megan. I have the best dog in the world – a mutt named Tucker (Tuck, or Tucker J). We have a farm with 3 horses, 2 barn cats, and 2 house cats. I was born in the most beautiful place on earth – the mountains of Western North Carolina – and have returned here. First generation college graduate. I’m an introvert with a very extroverted job. Large animal veterinarian. I enjoy playing piano, quite walks along the creek, craft beer, life-giving conversation, scuba diving, riding horses, and mowing. I like to write, but don’t get to do it enough. I enjoy non-fiction, biographies, and progessive Christian thought. I hate the texture of most soft things – think dryer lint and cotton balls and ridiculous fleecy blankets. I love the smell of silage, horses, a leather shop, and the hardware store. I live for moments of unexpectedly laughing to tears and crampy cheeks, and to feel and smell the cold air right before it snows.

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