ALICE IN 2021 (Part 4)
A “My Journey” post By Sol Riou, MSW, retired LICSW
The following submission is a Washington state social worker’s accounting of her Covid journey with patients “down the rabbit hole.” This series will be published in four parts.
Views and opinions expressed in “My Journey” posts are not necessarily those of Children’s Health Defense.
Previously on “Alice in 2021”:
In Part One of this four-part series revolved around Sol’s life as a Washington State social worker and her journey down the rabbit hole as her patients in early 2020 were relating their stressors and concerns to her during the country’s Covid-19 lockdowns.
In Part Two of this four-part series, while dealing with the continuation of Corona virus during early 2021, this social worker had to listen to her patients and co-workers as they discussed the sudden decline of their health. There seemed to be discordant information in regards to the safety of the vaccine products that were rolled out at the end of 2020.
In Part Three of this four-part series, our social worker became increasingly disillusioned with a post-Covid world, and had started to research the resistance movement that came out of the social lockdowns and other mandates. Her mind and outlook had changed, and she had started to question the reality of what was happening in our world.
PART FOUR
My grandfather, Timothy, worked until he was 70 years old. That was my goal, too. His lifestyle had always been my model of a healthy way to live. Having a meaningful life of service seemed to be what kept my grandfather mentally and physically healthy.
My grandfather died at 89 years old on an afternoon in June. After swimming in the ocean, he returned to his home two blocks from the beach in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He showered, put in a load of laundry along with his beach towel and swimsuit, and then mentioned to my grandmother that he didn’t feel well.
“My chest hurts,” he said calmly. “I am going to lie down for a while.”
“What? You are never sick,” my grandmother replied.
Two hours later, Timothy reappeared in the living room to ask that she call an ambulance.
“I can’t take the pain any longer,” he conceded. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I believe that Timothy would not have wanted it any other way.
Following his role model, I used to bike to work just like he did. “I don’t plan to retire until my 70th birthday, just like grandpop,” I would often say to myself as I rode the eleven miles to work in the morning. So the decision to retire on my 67th birthday did not come easily to me; it came to me in a somatic way.
I am physically exhausted by noon each day. I endure blurred vision, headaches, and a strange brain fog, making each day at work humorous but not rewarding. The dilemma for me is, how can I leave my co-workers and patients? My co-workers are under tremendous emotional stress adjusting to the changing daily demands of this pandemic. We are no longer mandated to mask in the community, and with most public buildings open again, I expect that life will return to normal . . . whatever “a post-Covid normal” might look like. Many patients do share that their lives are returning to some kind of “new normal:” Older patients thrilled about holding a grandchild for the first time in almost two years; working mothers relieved about returning to their offices and scheduling play dates for their socially starved children; retired couples excited about purchasing tickets for a cruise to Alaska or the Caribbean; and high school students inspired by plans of dressing up for their first prom. No longer anxious or depressed, many patients are canceling their therapy appointments.
Yet other patients come with new crises: teenagers who want to get vaccinated yet respect parental concerns regarding possible adverse effects; parents who remained unvaccinated for religious reasons, yet play dates are canceled for their children because of this; couples with tension, as one got vaccinated and the other is refusing the shot; family members demanding that other family members be fully vaccinated or not visit; the worst is the casual conversations everywhere–“Are you vaccinated?” and then the tension between friends and loved ones when the answer is not an enthusiastic “Oh yes, of course.”
These issues remind me of my cousin’s conversation with an old friend in the check-out line at the grocery store.
“Hey, good seeing you! Have you gotten your vaccine yet? I just got my second dose.”
“Well, I’m not planning to get vaccinated.”
“Why?! You aren’t listening to those conspiracy theories, are you?”
“No, I am listening to researchers and practitioners who question the effectiveness of the vaccine and offer me alternative methods to protect my health. I don’t believe that my sources are conspiracy theories. These doctors are practicing medicine, just not the CDC’s recommendations.”
“What Kool-aid are they on?”
I listen to both sides when patients, family, and friends share their stories with me. The array of fears keeps me fixated on this decades old question of mine: “Is our government really looking out for our best interest?” Most people do believe that corporations heavily influence our elected officials’ decisions. But we still live in a free country, right? And yet, with the intense social pressure to get vaccinated, do we really have a choice anymore? Even those of us who are vaccinated have so many restrictions on socializing. In 1980 I carried a sign, “My Body, My Choice’” to advocate for abortion rights for women. What happened to this belief that we each have the right and responsibility to take care of our bodies with the private consultation of our chosen health care provider? Now protected health information–our vaccination status–is considered public information. And the major technology companies are censoring information that offers alternatives to getting vaccinated. I experience this when I get a text from a friend. It is a video of a protest against the vaccine passport in London. Over a million people marching with signs challenging the censorship of information and Parliament’s plan to mandate Covid vaccinations for everyone. Their signs read:
“Follow the Money”
“Fauci Lies”
“Transparency. Not Censorship”
“Ivermectin, an Inconvenient Truth”
“Stop Pharma Fascism; No Passports!”
I am shocked that I did not know about this resistance movement in England as it has been building for months now. “What is going on? A million people protesting in London?” An aerial shot of the streets of London shows them filled with throngs of people. I can’t count them, but I see thousands upon thousands. The video includes interviews with parents and their children, elders with their siblings, intelligent people sharing rational concerns and the demands of the British Government. Concerns that I also have, like ‘transparency’ and ‘health freedom.’ Why aren’t people in my country talking about these things? I post the video on my Facebook page to share with my brother and a friend. I want to discuss it with them.
After posting the video, I promptly call my brother and friend. Neither of them can find it on my Facebook page. I post it again; it still isn’t there. Nothing. Stunned, I send it in a text, “I’m texting this video to you, since Facebook is censoring my posts!” Why would Facebook censor actual news? Down in this dark lonely Rabbit Hole I think, “I can’t risk talking to them now. More accurately, I can’t listen to what they might say.”
“It’s just the Facebook algorithms, don’t take it personally.”
“Censoring misinformation is necessary at this time because there are so many idiots posting lies.”
I sit numb for the rest of the evening. I know that two weeks of camping will not revive me. Whether it is stress or adverse effects of my own vaccination, I am now unfit for my job. The three strategies which I learned from my training entitled “Treating Anxiety During the Pandemic” no longer work for me. I have practiced two of those strategies for years: gratitude and focusing on what you can control. The third one, lower your expectations, has helped during my therapy sessions. But it only works in the moment; it feels unethical as a practice. Two weeks of camping might help me to return to work more grounded, but I can’t lower my expectations of myself any further! I need to accept reality—I am challenged beyond my capacity to ethically practice social work.
I resign.
* * * * * *
In grief and yet also with deep relief, I log on to my work computer to send a farewell email to my co-workers. I am going to share my heartfelt gratitude for their dedication and friendship, and I feel a wave of guilt for abandoning them at this time.
The computer pulls up the news of the day. A science journal article predicts that sunspots will interrupt internet services on a global scale in the near future. Unfortunately, I am drawn into reading the article, because I am remembering a conversation with a friend as I read.
“Part of The Great Reset plan is that Bill Gates will shut down the internet around the world so that their technocracy agenda can be put into effect with increased control of all our personal data using artificial intelligence. All the major media will carry a story about the internet blackout being the result of sunspots.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the framed Thich Nhat Hanh calligraphy lying on my desk waiting to be packed away: “Be Still and Heal.” I close my eyes and notice that I am breathing. Determined not to descend into the 2021 Rabbit Hole, I find comforting words for myself with less guilt now: “I can’t fight it, but I can flee as soon as I send this farewell email and finish packing. I will leave this office. And hopefully, I will also leave behind me the impossible task of offering patients something that looks like help.”
As I fill the last box with four pictures, a lamp, and my grandmother’s crocheted doily, I hear a conversation in the hallway. A nurse is speaking with a patient, who has just arrived. The conversation begins calmly with quiet voices.
“My name is Julie. I work with Dr. Whitfield. How are you doing today?”
“Well, I don’t like what is happening here in this town right now.”
“Oh, what is that?”
“You didn’t hear?” His voice is shrill from anxiety. My body responds with tight shoulders and a clenched jaw. “The new virus has arrived, variants D1 and D2. That’s why I am covered from head to foot. I’m not taking any chances of catching this one. It is the worst one yet!”
As the nurse walks him down the hall to Room 11, he continues to share his anxiety with each person he passes: “Did you hear the news? The D1 and D2 variants are here!”
THE END
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Sol Riou is a retired clinical social worker who has spent most of her 35-year career working with individuals and families who have experienced trauma. She lives on the Olympic Peninsula and continues to be active in local organizations advocating for health freedom and listening to those who hold opinions that differ from our own. Her work is grounded in her Buddhist practice and the Quaker value of “speak truth to power”.