Re-Opening

I've been paying attention. Really, I have. 

I've been skeptical of the numbers, since we were not and are not doing enough testing (even though the President says we have plenty of tests) we have no idea if the rate of infection has slowed, or if there has been a decline in the numbers for 14 straight days.

In fact, there are now places where the infection rate is skyrocketing.  Are we getting sicker, or, as more tests become available and we test more people, are we finding that the virus is lurking even if symptoms aren't showing up?  Was this always the case?  We'll never know.  That window has closed.

And now, states are opening up.  Gov. Kemp even took it on the chin from his President, but the order is still in place.  Neighboring counties have opened/kept closed their beaches; the lines of demarcation are stark.  Local officials are struggling with keeping the people they know, the ones they see everyday, wearing masks and staying distant as higher ups in their states refuse to let them make stricter rules. 

Our own Governor Ducey surprised most of us by actually appearing gubernatorial and thoughtful and relying on science as he relaxed some restrictions toward the end of this week.  Among those businesses opening up is my Pilates studio.  No group classes at first; just private sessions.  Coretets, classes of 4 or 5 on the reformers and cadillacs and pedi poles, will resume a few weeks later.

Now, I love my studio.  I love the teachers and the members and the owner and the staff.  I love the setting and the quality of the instruction and the attention to detail.  I love that we clean our equipment after we use it.  Mostly, I love the hands on experience, using the machines with an instructor correcting the little mistakes by placing her fingers where movement ought to occur.

I don't know how to do that from 6' away. 

I don't know how to breathe deeply, filling my lungs front, sides, and back, with a mask covering my face.  The work itself is sweat inducing; it doesn't need a mask to add to the situation.

I don't know how many sessions will be held at the same time, and neither did the scheduler who called to enroll me.  Passing others who are breathing heavily, dripping sweat, using machines that they'll clean before moving on..... it just feels like a breeding ground for unhealthy living.

The instructors are young.  Some are young parents, with babies at home.  The clientele is a mixture of ages and ethnicities and political sensibilities, but many are old.... older than I am.... recovering from this that and the other thing..... at risk. 

I've been SIP for 7 weeks.... 19 days in March, 30 days of April, and May isn't looking much more sociable to me.  Pima County's numbers are very low (again, see rant above about lack of testing) and our hospitals are not overwhelmed.  Elective surgeries are beginning to be rescheduled.  I'm glad that my friend can have her (we hope) pain relieving procedure and go on to resume her life without crying at every step.  That seems like a useful reopening activity.

But going to the studio and working on equipment that was sprayed and wiped but not in every corner, underneath, in the cracks, sanitized to within an inch of its life the way I take care of everything that comes into my house.... well, that makes me anxious.

Will there be a requirement that every client wear a mask?  I didn't ask.  I was too stressed about the whole conversation to think calmly.  As the scheduler was happily describing all the options at my disposal, she assumed that I was processing the information. 

I was not. 

It was too early for me to make that decision.  I didn't have enough facts.  I was feeling pressed, pushed to agree to something that felt wrong.  She did nothing untoward; the business was opening and she was helping it to prepare. 

What I was thinking about had nothing to do with private vs Coretet, with Tuesday vs Wednesday, with weekly vs twice weekly.  I was wondering if temperatures were to be taken at the door.  I was wondering about night time decontamination procedures.  I was wondering if I could trust the hundreds of people who would be using that same space.

Interrupting her presentation, I declined her kind offer. 

I have spent the following days mulling my decision.  The owner's a good friend, a well-educated, thoughtful, smart, kind, right-minded person.  The fact that she thinks it is safe to reopen sits heavily on the Do It side of the scale.

That's the only thing there.

The rest of me is not willing to risk inhaling a pre-symptomatic-but-highly-contagious-exhalation.  The breath propels our movements in Fletcher Pilates.  It's essential.  I don't know how I'd do the work if I were afraid to breathe.

And yet, I'm feeling foolish.  I'm having a hard time shaking the feeling that I'm being silly, that I'm overreacting, that if the studio thinks it's safe then I ought to pull up my big girl panties and dive right in. 

Just typing that ..... NO.

I'm reminded of the Asch conformity experiments, where subjects were found agreeing with the majority, even when a different reality was staring them in the face, empirically proving that the majority was wrong.  I'm falling off the deep edge, denizens, not trusting my instincts, being swayed by others.

Can I stay isolated until there's a vaccine?  Probably not.  I don't want to miss years of hugging my grandchildren.  On the other hand, I do want to be around to hug them at all, whenever that might be.  Pilates in the studio isn't essential in the way figuring out 1st grade for FlapJilly is essential.  I'm going to sit back and let others be guinea pigs, heeding the pleas of doctor friends begging, on Instagram and FaceBook and in phone calls - Stay Home For Me.