Urgent care visit gave hope we can adapt to coronavirus. But then, I went to Walmart.
In our east Fort Worth home, there’s no debate about social distancing and stay-at-home orders. We are all in — literally.
Since my last day in the Star-Telegram’s downtown office, March 16, I’ve left our neighborhood maybe four times. But last weekend brought necessary trips to a medical clinic and a big-box store, along with lessons about how we can adjust our lives to beat back the worst of the coronavirus pandemic and gradually restart our society, rather than waiting for the day it’s all “over.”
The last place I wanted to go during a viral pandemic was where people go when they’re sick. But I finally had to deal with a weird build-up of fluid in my ear. (Thankfully, it’s minor, treatable and in no way corona-related.)
As it turned out, the urgent care clinic I visited, CareNow, was probably the cleanest, safest place to be. I checked in online, later learning that the clinic won’t accept walk-ins anyway. I was quizzed over the phone about the whole list of COVID-19 symptoms.
When I showed up, a worker decked out in personal protective equipment met me at the door with a no-touch forehead thermometer that resembled a radar gun. She immediately cleaned the door where I’d touched it, and I was quickly shown to a room.
The physician’s assistant who checked me in wore a mask and gloves the entire time. If a potential corona case shows up, she explained, the patient is directed through a back door, avoiding the waiting room entirely, and interacts only with those in full personal-protective equipment.
The doctor was efficient but thorough, examining both ears but minimizing contact. My paperwork was delivered to the room, and I was able to walk directly out of the clinic with just a quick stop for a couple pumps of hand sanitizer, which I wasn’t sure still existed in the wild.
There’s almost no way I could have picked up the virus there. But my next stop was another story.
Walmart employees were wiping down carts. A line was set up to limit traffic inside. Checkout lines were striped at six-foot intervals. So, it’s not the store that poses the threat.
It’s the customers. About a third wore face masks, but the real issue is how oblivious some people are to the need to stay away from others. I lost count of how many times I had to stop and try to maintain some distance as others passed by. I turned my head and held my breath, as if that might help.
Stores could do more, like roping off aisles to go one direction. But we’re all going to have to get a lot smarter about how we navigate out in public. If I develop COVID-19, I’m pretty sure it happened at the meat case, where no one could wait 15 seconds for me to pick out a pack of chicken before approaching.
None of this is easy; our behaviors are ingrained, and sometimes we just don’t think when about standing next to someone to look over the dwindling bacon options. Indeed, we’re all still trying to come to terms with a world in which two choices of toilet paper brands on the shelf feels like a bonanza.
And it’s a shame, because both nationally and in Texas, we’re seeing signs that the extraordinary steps we’ve taken, collectively and individually, may be working. The curve may be flattening, at least compared to the awful initial predictions.
When the pandemic began, we all looked for the time when things could return to normal. Instead, we must figure out how to calibrate risks, to slowly open businesses, schools and sporting venues, rather than look for a date certain we can fully start up our lives again.
So the example of the urgent care clinic, not the big-box store, should guide us. How do we build in protections that allow us to interact and conduct commerce again? It could be years until a vaccine or sufficient immunity makes it possible to engage other people in the carefree way we did as recently as February.
Indeed, my weekend left it clear to me that the future might not look much like the past for a long time.
This story was originally published April 8, 2020 at 5:03 AM.
