I have written several books that have pandemics in their life’s blood. Life First is the byproduct of a massive pandemic that has wiped out much of the population. In the virus series, my main characters–Elaan, Joshua, and Elijah are all coping with a world left devastated by a pandemic. And, in my yet-to-be-published novel, Out There, society is hiding from what is out there, the awful thing caused by a virus.
The notions of pandemics have always been of interest to me because they are scary. They are the monster that you cannot see. By the time you realize what is going on, it’s too late. For those who get it or don’t in the early stages, it’s often a matter of simply luck–good for those who miss out, bad for those who catch the devastating bug.
As an author, it’s a wonderful topic to explore in a cozy, safe world, where a pandemic is far off from reality.
Writing about the anxiety of a pandemic works because you can put it away and go back to life when it becomes too draining. Living it is very different. It confronts you everywhere you go. There are few safe places and no safe people in the new society in which we live.
The new normal has been very hard. It’s been particularly devastating to worry that if someone gets sick and dies, you will never see them again. The disease is so contagious, no one can sit by their bedside. Funerals can’t include the friends and extended families of the decedents because of social distancing.
This detail has reminded me of the horror of the fictional Heloan virus in my book Concealed. They called it the Hell virus for short, and the families didn’t get to say goodbye to their loved ones. Here is an excerpt from Concealed:
Elaan nodded and peered down at the cereal box. She didn’t want to talk about her mother, whom she missed terribly. A mother she never got to say goodbye to. A mother she saw one day and then never again. That was probably the hardest part. Or maybe that was the easiest part. She wasn’t sure…
But with the Helnoan virus, there were no goodbyes. Once people got sick, they were gone. The disease was so contagious, the sick were quarantined so their families didn’t see them again unless they were one of the four percent who survived. But the survivors were so few, that most people never saw the sick again. The bodies of the dead were bloated with disease. There could be no viewings or other contact with the corpse, for risk of contagion from bodily fluids. …You had the knowledge that your loved one was dead but no proof. You couldn’t look at that unmoving body to know that the person was gone forever.
It was bitter to imagine, back when I wrote about it. And it seems more bitter to actually live it in these times. My heart breaks for those who must live with this awful death for their loved one. There is a certain peace in being there for those who are dying–to comfort them, so they know that they are not alone, and to allow yourself those last moments of solace with that person. And today, tens of thousands of people are stripped of that, and it is sad beyond belief.
I try to remember that more survive this disease than die from it. That has been the wonderful place where reality has diverged from fiction, that so many more will survive. I am so thankful that our real-world pandemic is one in which by doing nothing but staying home, we increase chances of survival. We must rely on each other to survive, and most people are stepping up to the plate, and taking the care they need. And there are those going above and beyond to make it so those who cannot go out don’t have to. To everyone doing their part, I say thank you.
I hope everyone stays safe out there, and let’s end this pandemic much better than the fictional ones do–with way more lives saved, and bringing otu the best in people.