Opinion | The hardest thing to do is behave as if it’s not all about you
Alena James, senior business administration major
It was hard for me to realize this too. The night of March 14, 2020, I was messing around at a bar with my friends in Cannes, France — a city full of wealthy, older Europeans with yachts who eat €40 lobster risotto at expensive restaurants on the literal beach. I was eating it too. I was sipping expensive wine. I was staying in five-star hotels — because I go to Chapman, and I have a trust fund that lets me afford to live a fantasy like that for four months while studying abroad.
I was living the life I had always felt I deserved — a life abundant with the opportunity to do anything I wanted whenever I wanted. I mean, it's human nature to act in your own best interest. I criticize my fellow peers for being entitled, but I’m just as entitled.
I believed studying abroad was my right because I wanted it, and no one and nothing would ever be able to take it away from me — let alone a random morning in March when my mom’s cries of fear rang over the phone at 3 a.m. because she worried I may not be able to reenter the United States. Chapman kids, I'm just like you. Well … kind of.
At three years old, I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. And my mom did everything she possibly could to prevent the worst case scenario. But my brain is left forever wondering if it’s going to come back and hurt me worse than the time before. I've had plenty of trips to the doctor where my bones are shaking through my skin because of my symptoms, which contribute to the ever-increasing chance I might be forced to have my colon removed and a J-Pouch inserted through surgery to replace it.
That is probably why I have the emotional bandwidth to handle living through a pandemic. I have spent the last year doing everything possible to make sure my family doesn't know what it feels like to be sick with COVID-19.
I have watched my mom battle chronic illness for most of my life. And physical pain transgresses into emotional pain. It breaks you down to the point where you realize people don't stick around when there's not a solid outcome. They ask, "So you never get better?"
My mom would respond, "Some days, I'm in less pain than other days." This is something not many can comprehend.
People are programmed to understand that everything in life has a beginning and an end. When endings become indefinite, the unknown becomes greater. The greater the unknown, the less people worry. You cannot stop your life forever, right? This is America. We have the freedom to do as we please and expose ourselves to illness. We also have the freedom to hurt others, even if we don't acknowledge that freedom.
I know what you’re thinking: “If I change my life for a pandemic, I’m going to lose something of greater value — my college experience and my relationships with people.” I get it. Oftentimes, these concepts feel more valuable than a pandemic that doesn't touch us in a lot of ways. COVID-19 has imparted a nebulous effect over many of us who don’t actually see the death toll it takes on others. We only hear about it — and we can lower the volume on the television.
Although it feels never-ending, this pandemic will eventually come to a close. I feel the pain of loneliness and the fear of losing friendships and my college experience as much as the next student. But I do not value those things over the lives of my fellow humans, especially ones with illnesses like I have. I've spent the last year in true isolation — absolutely petrified that one day, somehow, some way, COVID-19 would infiltrate my home and kill someone I love. In my case, the greater the unknown, the more I worry and the more careful I move. Because chronic illness is a game of not knowing, and I hope I will never know what COVID-19 could do to my mom. To my Grammie. To my sister. To me.
We wouldn’t think twice to protect our family and friends. But what about people we don’t know? People with the same condition I have? The CDC states large in-person gatherings, where it is difficult for individuals to remain spaced at least 6 feet apart and attendees travel from outside the local area, pose the highest risk for spreading COVID-19. Next time you make plans to smoke weed with friends, go somewhere without a mask or attend that party you were invited to, ask yourself — would you be willing to save my (a stranger’s) life?