This is just some random thoughts on covid and a window, for y'all who may be interested, into the life of a critical care nurse, who happens to be a kinkster too.
i've worked with Covid poz patients since the hospital where i work opened a special covid unit the first week of March 2020. Ironically? i got sick the last week of February and am fairly confident i had Covid... i'll likely never know since testing was not available for me at that point, just going by symptoms and my own familiarity with the disease. my scientific emotional disposition was to hope/believe that having had the virus would confer some immunity, even though there was no (and still is no) evidence to support that notion. We don't know. Still, it did sort of plant a certain unwarranted emotional confidence in me.
That was not a 100% wacko conclusion, just part of my disposition. my first day back from being sick myself (the standards back then were low, i qualified to come back to work if i had not had a fever in two days), i cared for the hospitals first covid patient. It was touch and go for about a week, but the person eventually got better and left. i have since spent pretty much every other rotation working on the covid unit. Usually half the patients do not end up having covid, they are there for rule out. i volunteer for the ones i know are poz, a combination of scientific interest on my part and partly understanding that many of my cohorts cannot work on the unit for a variety of reasons, so covid nurses where i am are at a premium.
Fast forward to November 2020, Covid is seeing it's highest spike in my state since the pandemic began. Back in June, our governor let up on restrictions. That's when i started having sex again. Not wonton whoring myself out sex, but with a few select fuck buddies. That's persisted to now. i know some are still in sexual seclusion, i am in a semi secluded place. i have foregone 3 vacations to Palm Springs (aka "the gay Mecca") this year, my reluctant nod to covid. i stay at home, i wear my mask when out. No one washes their hands more than or better than i.
But... i still have sex with fuck buddies.
i got to thinking about that this morning. One of the things that happens with nurses is a thing called "alarm fatigue." As a hospital nurse on a critical care unit, i am literally exposed to multiple alarms every minute of my 12.5 hour shift. Alarm fatigue is a known and heavily studied (if not solved) challenge in the nursing profession. i have patients connected to telemetry, so heart alarms, pulse ox, so oxygen alarms, pumps of every sort, so pump alarms, to name a few. Then the double occupied rooms, full to the brim with patients who have call lights in their hand and are convinced they are at a five star resort with room service: yes, we actually get people who call us to cover them up or fluff their pillow even though they do this their self at home. All of this adds up and contributes to alarm fatigue, where alarms become a wee bit less alarming.
i've come to see that covid has had a similar affect on me. i'm around Covid at it's worst, all the time, so i guess i feel less alarmed by the risk from the guy on top of me. We also happen to be giving comfort, pleasure and respite to each other in trying times. Risk vs reward. It never is a simple yes or no question or answer it seems.