Betrayed

There was one vacant chair not near anyone. People were waiting in a small room to get their Covid and flu vaccines. The vacant chair appeared to be a safe distance from others.

Covid has been making its rounds again. It was pretty well contained for almost a year. Now here it comes again. This is a new strain, not as deadly, but still extremely serious for some.

The man sitting next to me, one chair over, coughed. I jumped. I wasn’t wearing a mask. It was just one cough, so he was probably not infected. He was called for his shot. I relaxed.

A couple was called and done in a flash.

The store where the pharmacy is embedded had provided doughnuts. The couple lingered around the doughnuts, deciding whether they should eat one or take one with them.

Now that I am talking to people, I made a comment, and we exchanged pleasantries. The man had noted my reaction to the previous cough, and shared his reaction to the same. (They were on the other side of the man who coughed.)

He told me in all earnestness that his entire life had been changed since Covid. He doesn’t want to go out around people, especially groups. It isn't safe. He won't go to church on Sunday anymore. He goes during the week. I could hear the sadness in his voice, the betrayal of the community, of protective behavior.

Most lives were changed by this terrible infectious disease. Too many died or were left with serious complications.

Individuals' behaviors broadcast their core. Many rejected wearing masks. They were angry at the implied control suggested by health authorities.

Policies were developed. Now people go to work, don’t have to wear a mask, nor wash frequently. People work next to each other, without extra space between. No questions can be asked if infected people are infected. It’s no problem, get out and mingle.

My wife was progressing in her Dementia illness at the Covid pandemic inception. I was terrified. What if I became infected, had to be hospitalized or died, what would become of her?

I placed us in isolation. She was still receiving treatment for Rheumatoid Arthritis and had to go into a facility for treatment every month, so we masked up. We didn’t touch anything, if possible. We washed our hands frequently. Aside from that, we were housebound. At least we had each other. We were not isolated, like some people were.

Groceries were available by pick up at the stores. My neighbor ventured out and filled in necessary items for me, leaving them at my gate.

The separation from others wounded us, as it wounded others. There was no close communication. To be safe you had to stay away from everyone. We are herd animals. We thrive on contact. We deteriorate without.

A vaccine was miraculously, fast-tracked. It provided protection. It provided hope.

I cheered when the trucks filled with vaccines pulled away from the manufacturers. There was hope on wheels. We would survive. We could join the universe again.

There was celebration! Migration was possible for us. Caregivers were possible, we could see friends.

The first thing upon migration was to have lunch with friends. My wife had a caretaker. We did better not venturing out. We met at the restaurant. Everyone was wearing masks. Everyone was safe. We sat at the table and masks came off. We ordered food. My friend announced they hadn’t been vaccinated..

There was a volcanic eruption from me. “I’m sitting one foot away from you, and you are not really safe? Not even try to be?” Her reply, “but you are vaccinated, so you should be OK.”

I felt betrayed. I paid my bill on the way out the door for a meal I didn’t eat, and left feeling major disappointment.

This was a painful realization. This couple were friends for years. We ate at each other’s homes. We went fishing together. We got together for other entertainment. These were not ignorant people. When the superficial was stripped away, their moral compass emerged, which was defined by selfishness. Watch out for yourself. If I get infected, and then infect you, it’s too bad.

Betrayal

Who gets betrayed? It is us. It is mainly by someone we trust. We are vulnerable because we trust those with similar values who we believe behave by the rules. Especially while grieving, we have enhanced vulnerability, therefore less resistance.

I was shocked and appalled by the betrayal of this couple. If I hadn’t trusted them, I would never have agreed to be in close contact. I just assumed they would do everything possible to protect themselves from infection. Who would not?

I put up a lot of fences. I protect myself from becoming too close with others. That in itself is a barrier to betrayal. But as I begin to open doors in this new life of mine, what am I facing? Friends have warned me. “You are a target. You can easily be taken advantage of.”

Are past behaviors predictive of current ones? Will I place trust in the undeserving? Are my faculties alert enough to detect insincerity?

In spite of all the barbed wire, closeness happens. Betrayal happens. A trusted friend shows malice. A lover has an affair. A friend decides he doesn’t have to pay back borrowed money. Another friend tells a secret. The government doesn’t enact protective rules.

We have choices. We can throw offenders away. With major or multiple offenses, this is probably a good choice. With our precious and loved ones, do we punish forever or forgive? We can examine alternatives, be more suspicious, better communicate our standards.

We are human. We sometimes behave badly. I, for certain, have evidenced lesser humanity in my past.

Let’s hope we will be forgiven when we do something stupid, something not done with malice.

Let me know how you are doing. I care.

Contemplation: Evaluate circumstances surrounding betrayal.

Sincerely,

Lynn Brooke

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Photo Credit: © 2023 Rachel Gareau