Part 1

by: Jamilette Pichardo

Death doesn’t discriminate. That’s something I learned very early in life. Death doesn’t care about your sex, your religious beliefs, or how old you are. My name is Jayme. I’m not going to tell you that my name doesn’t matter or that people don’t matter. Because life does matter and anyone on this planet can leave their mark on the world. It doesn’t matter if you’re a teacher, a lawyer, a doctor, or just a friend without a job. Everyone can leave a ripple effect by the people they touch and the things they do with their time.

I was born with Cerebral Palsy, it’s a muscular condition that affects the lower extremities of my body. Therefore, I use a wheelchair to move around independently. But more importantly, I was born with a compromised immune system. Ever since I was little if anyone so much as sneezed or coughed on me, it would turn into some massive infection leading to hospitalization. Over the course of my very young life, I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve been hospitalized over something that should have been small. I can’t even pronounce half of the infections I’ve developed over the years.

When Covid-19 started to impact the world, the way I had to live my daily life changed drastically. For starters even though I am disabled I am very much a busybody. My mother calls me, alquitrán caliente which means hot tar in Spanish. She gave me this nickname because I was hardly ever home. I was either working, at the library studying, out with friends and family, enjoying my time at the mall, or out seeing a movie. When Covid-19 hit I couldn’t do any of that. It wasn’t even safe for me to ride the public bus which was my only source of transportation. I was confined to my house. My computer became my window to the world. The only other people I had to interact with was my mother and my cat. The isolation and the fear of contracting the virus was a living hell that seeped into my subconscious.

I have a younger brother who lives in Colorado. He moved there because he got a job offer working at a hospital that he couldn’t refuse.  My mom would cry a lot, worried about my brother. He told us that he did have a few patients who contracted the virus. Then while the virus was taking its toll, he decided to pay a visit to Florida. Personally, I thought he was crazy. But his decision for deciding to travel was because the plane tickets were super cheap.  He figured if we were going to die because of this plague at least he would have seen us one last time. I couldn’t visit with my brother because he worked full-time at the hospital.

Ultimately, coming into contact with him would be detrimental to my health. I spoke to him from outside. He stood in my driveway as I looked through the window. But I mostly felt bad for my mother. He was her favorite child and he had gone out of his way to see us. My mother couldn’t even hug him out of fear of what it might do to me since he might be a carrier of the virus. I can say now without feeling embarrassed, I wondered if that would be the last time that I would see my brother. I really wished I could have hugged him and breathed in his scent one more time. I felt horrible that both him and my mom had to sacrifice their time together because of my stupid immune system and this virus. From then on things just got worse.

For eight years, I have worked as a substitute teacher making ten dollars an hour. It wasn’t much but with the little bit of disability money, I received plus what I made from substitute teaching I was able to pay my bills and survive. But now with the epidemic, schools were shutting down and they were asking people not to return to work. Even though I would be struggling financially, I was extremely relieved.  I didn’t have to choose between possibly dying every day if I chose to return to work. My mom wasn’t working either so financially we were drowning. The thing is when you have to report to the government how much you’re making monthly they adjust your disability benefits. However, the system was really slow and tended to be two months behind on updating their information. As a result, even though I wasn’t working I was still receiving the smaller payments from disability as if I were still working as a substitute teacher.

We had not been approved for food stamps yet, and my small disability amount went to paying our bills. We honestly didn’t have money for food. We were drinking water from the tap and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was the only thing that we could afford. The bread was our source of grain and it was also filling too our empty bellies. The peanut butter was our protein since we hadn’t had meat or eggs in about two weeks. The jelly was our fruit and sugar. We were trying to hit as many food groups as possible. I was getting sick of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. At one point, it was hard to look at the sandwich without gagging and forcing it down. But at least there was something in my stomach.  There were nights when I had gone to bed hungry and irritable and wondering if their would-be food for tomorrow. What I really wanted was a soda. My body was craving for the caffeine and the energy boost.

I kept telling myself that we just had to get through these two months. I also prayed that our stimulus checks would arrive soon. Of course, they didn’t.  But God was good to me as I received help from an unexpected source. I had this friend who literally saved me and my mom from starving that month. Unbeknownst to me, my friend had gone out of their way to buy my mom and I groceries. We were so touched and happy when we received this blessing, we both started to cry. Someday I hope to pay that friend back.

Then my uncle came to visit. Here was the real kicker— he currently lived in New York. The capital of where the virus was taking life. My uncle was one of those people who didn’t believe in the severity of this illness. He was one of those who believed people and the public were overreacting. He refused to stay isolated and wouldn’t wear a mask. When he told my mom that he was first going to Puerto Rico to see my grandparents and then to Florida to see us and his daughter, my mom asked him if he was crazy? He would attend large block parties during the day and go to the clubs at night. He would call us gloating about everywhere he had been. Furthermore, he would state that this virus would not infringe on his daily life. It was his mantra. He was his own worst enemy and by default a hazardous threat to me.

The world as we knew it was shutting down. My uncle on the other hand, continued to live his life as if nothing had changed. He enjoyed the once familiar pleasures of the beach.  I could almost smell the beach atmosphere. The air would smell of sea salt, food frying, and sun tan lotion. I could imagine it all so clearly in my head.  The large amounts of cars with numerous out of state license plates. They would accumulate and act like hot sardines packed across the scorching sand.  People would mob the narrow boardwalk as they ran to look out into the shimmering water.  It was a living cesspool for the virus to claim its next group of victims. I honestly wondered if he had a death wish. It was because of people like him that the virus was spreading so rapidly.

My mom told him that he couldn’t come to stay at our house. He could only visit with us by standing in my driveway and talking to each other through the window. My uncle told my mother and I that we were overreacting and to just stop acting ridiculous. I reminded him that I had a compromised immune system and having him visit could be dangerous for me. While he visited, he constantly called every day. They’re even came a point where I had to shut off my phone. He put so much pressure on me and my mom to see him. We said no repeatedly and once again he mentioned how we were overreacting and how ridiculous we sounded. 

“Why would we sacrifice time with family over the fear of this virus?” my uncle asked. But he just didn’t see things from my perspective and once again my mom was put in an uncomfortable and difficult situation because of me. I wasn’t trying to sacrifice time or moments with my family. I wanted to see my family too.  However, I didn’t want my yearning for them to compromise their health. Why couldn’t he understand that? More importantly, coming into contact with each other, could ultimately cause all of us to run out of time. I just wanted all of us to survive this. For now, our survival would have to be enough.

Consequently, for my uncle, survival wasn’t enough. I couldn’t believe he was willing to take the chance to travel to Puerto Rico to see my grandparents as well. They were both 84 years old and my grandpa had underlined heart conditions and dementia. It seemed as if he had no regard for anybody but himself. I thought after his landlord had died from the virus it would have knocked some sense into him and he would have taken this more seriously. It seemed to faze him only for a day then he was back to his daily routine. He constantly was exploring the city and ordering every day for breakfast plus lunch and dinner. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten out.

After he left, I was relieved but then the isolation set in. My mind was just racing. One night, I had a dream that I had contracted the virus.  I was at a flea market with my grandma.  This was something we had done many times when I was a child. The tradition continued all the way through my teenage years. She loved to go to flea markets and antiquing. The dream was outside and we were at a flea market. We were at a long rectangular plastic table as we were assorting pieces of drift wood. My grandma wore a straw sun hat embroidered with flowers in the center.  I remember in the dream grandma had picked up a mahogany music box and I had parked in front of her in my manual wheelchair.

“I have the Coronavirus,” I told her.  Suddenly and very violently she started to cough up blood.

“I have the virus too, and I’m dying,” my grandma said to me.  This was all my fault. I had done this to her. Then her arms and legs fell off and she was nothing but a torso asking me for my help. After the nightmare was over, I jolted awake in a cold sweat.  I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.