It’s Time to Accept the Risks of COVID-19

When I told my father I was planning to move to Cambodia at 20, he said, “Hon, living in a tropical climate is crazy for you. I don’t think it’s worth the risk.” He was concerned because I was born with a chronic illness: cystic fibrosis.Bacteria thrive in hot, humid environments, and my cystic fibrosis could turn my mucus into sludge. Living in the tropics was taking a risk, but in my adolescent mind, the lifestyle I had found while backpacking in Cambodia was worth the chance of developing a serious infection.

I Refused to Let My Disorder Prevent Me From Living My Life

So I made the long journey across the world to my new home. There, I settled in among expats and locals in a sweaty city surrounded by ancient temples and the lush jungle. Months later, a culture of my mucus revealed the presence of dangerous tropical bacteria that had colonized my sinuses in a thick growth of infection. Dad was right.For a few weeks, I rode my bike to the local clinic twice a day for an IV of antibiotics. My arms were dotted with bruises from the failed attempts of the young nurses to properly stick the needle, and none of the doctors had even heard of cystic fibrosis. After months of recurring infections, my parents and doctors in the U.S. begged me to move back for first-world healthcare. Eventually I did, and my body was immediately greeted with two sinus surgeries, many more IV antibiotics and inhaled medicine to prevent the infection from entering my lungs.I had gambled my health on a mind-opening opportunity in another country, and I had lost. Although I have never regretted my decision to uproot my life and move to a developing country, the experience did teach me something about taking health risks—knowledge I’ve relied on since the start of the pandemic. While I entered the COVID-19 era cautious and somewhat concerned for my health, four vaccinations and two years later, I am letting that caution and concern go. I wish others who can would do the same.

I had gambled my health on a mind-opening opportunity in another country, and I had lost.

I Took Precautions to Mitigate the Risk From Cystic Fibrosis

Living with a serious chronic illness like cystic fibrosis means constantly juggling personal levels of risk. Is it worth risking those stubborn, humid bacteria to join friends in a hot tub one starry winter night? Probably not. But taking a puff of a cigarette or joint on a night out? Once in a while, yeah, sure.When I was a child, my parents would whisk my sister and me out of school most winters, educating us from the road while we headed south to avoid cold and flu season in New England. The years I did stick around in the winter, viruses that gave my classmates the sniffles would wipe me out for weeks, leading to pneumonia or stubborn sinus infections. In my teens, I deliberately skimped on medical treatments to spend more time with friends. My penance was weeks of sickness that meant missing out on soccer games or school dances.As a more cautious adult, I warned the staff of the restaurant I worked in what viruses could do to me and requested that they call in sick if they had cold or flu symptoms. Knowing that my co-workers would not likely give up a few hundred dollars in tips because of a runny nose, I weighed the risks of walking into the restaurant each day during the winter. When my fellow bartender came in with a fever, I fell ill just two days later, ending up at the medical center on oxygen while my lungs fought off the aftereffects of a flu.It hadn’t mattered as much to miss a couple of weeks of school, but two weeks without restaurant shifts meant cutting my monthly salary in half and barely being able to afford the healthcare I needed. Eventually, I left the restaurant industry to write full-time. Those risks were just not worth it.But if these experiences taught me anything, it was that sometimes the alternative was far worse than the reality of getting sick after taking a risk. Staying locked up inside my house, ticking treatments off a to-do list, staying away from people during cold and flu season and firmly adhering to every possible precaution meant missing out on the life I was working so hard to be healthy enough to enjoy. In doing so, I risked a much greater loss—my peace of mind.I’m a big believer in the connection between mind and body. When I identify as sick, my sickness consumes me. Conversely, some of my riskier experiences have helped me shoulder the burden of sickness. Like when I took my first breaths underwater to earn my scuba diving certification—something I had been told by doctors that I’d never be able to do. I felt alive as I observed turtles soaring by and schools of fish rippling in the current. There were still cystic fibrosis-related risks to this new activity, but my doctor had signed off on it, so I accepted them. The joy I felt while exploring coral reefs was amplified by the fact that the fatigue I felt on land melted away underwater. This weightlessness and sense of awe bolstered my mood during a time when my body felt too weak to do much else.

Cystic Fibrosis Significantly Increases My Risk of Serious Illness

I remember sitting with a friend the day after the first news of a respiratory virus in China reached the U.S. “I’m worried what this means for you,” my friend confessed. I exhaled: “Me too.” But mentally, I was prepared. Instead of fear, I chose knowledge and calm action.When masks were required, I wore them inside and outside in crowded areas. I spent most of my non-working hours home or out in nature and got tested when potentially exposed. Nearly a year after the pandemic had begun, I got sick with the virus after a bare-faced round of bowling. Luckily, COVID moved through me quickly, but it left a sinus infection in its wake that resulted in two more surgeries and another round of IV antibiotics. Still, I chose not to be cowed by the virus.Part of being chronically ill is finding peace with the myriad ways the world can harm me rather than letting them dictate my every move. Plus, I know that the risks never fully go away; no matter what I do, they just lessen.Honestly, I’m tired of people who are healthy and not at risk continuing to take an absurd amount of COVID-19 precautions. To me, there’s a certain righteousness to their actions, as if they think that they alone are saving the lives of the endangered.

I am letting that caution and concern go. I wish others who can would do the same.

I've Accepted the Risks of COVID and Wish Others Would Do the Same

While I support the decision of those who are unable to get vaccinated or have several underlying medical conditions (and their family members) living a far more cautious life, I roll my eyes at the healthy and vaxxed who still are. Like the people I’ve seen post on Facebook that they’ll never let a plumber or electrician into their house while they’re at home for fear of catching COVID, or the friend of a friend who insists that anyone who meets up with them get tested and wear a mask in between each bite of food or sip of water if they dine together.When I hear things like this, one of my first thoughts is, “This person probably has never dealt with sickness before.” Maybe they’re scared—for themselves or others—or maybe they’re just trying to do the right thing. I admire that impulse, but from my perspective, the right thing now is to acknowledge how much progress we’ve made against the virus and let up a bit.Going forward, I’ll assess the risks periodically and adjust my actions. With my third COVID infection just behind me and after my second booster, I won’t wear a mask indoors unless required, but I will wear one on airplanes, as I’ve always done to avoid colds and flus. If I’m visiting a vulnerable friend or family member, I’ll test and follow their requests, but otherwise? I’ll accept the risks both for myself and others. While I believe that everyone should continue to mask if they wish, I feel at peace with my decision not to in most situations. If weighing health risks is a matter of trial and error, I say it’s time for some more trials. A sense of balance and our peace of mind is at stake.