The Buildup and the Fall — the Beginning of Our Coronavirus Year

There’s no one, single one-year anniversary date for the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic. But for many Americans, today is the day in which everyone knew the world was going to change and the old normal was going to go away, at least for a while.

That’s how it is for me. But it wasn’t just that the world changed overnight. There was a slow buildup before the fall, and I want to take you how I saw it via my life as a regular dude who is no epidemiologist or public-health expert or politician or science journalist (though I am in media). In other words, someone who had no inside knowledge via my profession that suggest the world would be changed the way it has been.

I saw the buildup and the fall the way many people did. At first, I was blind to it, despite the fact that the virus was already causing big trouble in China. Then, I was mildly concerned. Then, I was concerned, but not expecting a year of major disruptions. Finally, a year ago tonight, I got my first taste of the new normal.

It took a few more days for my city to shut down, and even then, I thought we’d be in for only two weeks of lockdown. Two months, tops. How naïve I was.

Here, then, is a month-by-month account of how I lived my life, oblivious, until that was no longer possible.

JANUARY

I travel a lot for work, or I did pre-Covid, and my first trip of 2020 took me to Miami. At that point, no one was thinking about the coronavirus, not here in America. Life felt 100 percent normal.

I am not sure if I was yet aware of the news reports out of China about the novel coronavirus when I was in Florida, or if it was after I returned home, but I did first notice them at some point in January. In hindsight, the news should’ve scared me, especially when the Chinese were building hospitals from scratch in record time.

But having lived through the first SARS outbreak, as well as Ebola, I thought the virus would be controlled soon enough, and it wouldn’t become a global pandemic.

The first Covid case where I live, Chicago, was identified in late January, in a woman who had traveled home from Wuhan. I remember seeing this on the local news, being mildly concerned, and then moving on with my life — I continued to believe we’d nip this thing in the bud before it could spread.

The woman and her husband, who was also infected, have both since made full recoveries.

I also traveled to Detroit in January. Still no concerns over coronavirus. As far as I was concerned, life was barreling along like normal.

While in Detroit, I reached out to two colleagues who live in the area to see if they wanted to grab a beer at a brewery next door to my hotel. Both declined, as it was a bit too far for them to drive. None of us knew at the time that we’d next see each other on Zoom.

February

Coronavirus was getting more and more attention in the news, but I still wasn’t thinking about lockdowns and social distancing. Few people, at least in America, were. I spent the first part of my month covering the Chicago Auto Show, surrounded by plenty of people, as if there wasn’t a deadly respiratory virus lurking. I traveled to San Antonio for work, and there was almost no talk among colleagues about this virus. Normal, normal, normal.

While in San Antonio, I flipped on CNN while dressing for dinner. Politics dominated the news that night — either the fallout from Donald Trump’s first impeachment trial, or news about the Democratic primary, or both. Normal.

I am not saying CNN wasn’t covering the virus — they were, by then — but it still didn’t seem like it would a problem.

I returned home and attended a panel at the Chicago Auto Show, during public days. Still no worries about being indoors in a place packed with people. My only concern that day was being on time — I ran a bit late because I had to park farther away than anticipated.

Finally, in late February, with the virus making more and more news, I flew to Vancouver on business. For the first time, the virus’s impact on the world felt real.

Not because of anyone specific thing — it’s just that, by this point, there was more attention being paid to the virus. Though we still weren’t talking about masks, lockdowns, or distancing. At this point, the public-health advice amounted to washing your hands more frequently.

Indeed, walking around Vancouver before dinner, on a gray and rainy but not really cold day, the city seemed normal. I didn’t worry that any stranger I encountered could get me sick. I did, however, pass up a chance to get paczki at a local bakery — it was Fat Tuesday — because the place didn’t appear to have a bathroom, and I wanted to be able to wash my hands. In hindsight, that was a poor choice.

During a discussion with a colleague, we worried about getting our parents sick, but it never occurred to us that the virus was stalking everyone. Yes, those over 65 were at higher risk, but at the time, it felt like if you were under that age, you were pretty safe. We know now that is not true.

My second night in Canada, we shifted to Whistler, as part of our work event. Retiring to my room after a nice dinner, I laid in bed, watching Canadian news to wind down. Covid was the dominant topic, but yet again, there was not yet any indication the world would change. This may be the first time I saw Dr. Isaac Bogoch on TV. He’s now a name that would become familiar to news consumers.

I fell asleep that night looking forward to a nice, big breakfast before flying home.

Then I fell ill.

I don’t think what I had was covid, but I will never know. I awoke around 4 a.m. with a seriously upset stomach, and proceed to vomit, quite violently (sorry for that image). I knew I hadn’t drank enough for alcohol to be the cause, but I’d had a big meal, and I do suffer from mild sinus issues. Once or twice a year this causes me to throw up, especially after a big meal.

I went back to bed, thinking I’d feel better in the morning. No dice — I couldn’t even keep water down. I skipped breakfast and sat in misery, waiting for my departure transfer to the airport.

Was it covid? Should I say something? I had no other symptoms, beyond nausea and fatigue, and I figured the fatigue was in part because I’d had a hard time getting back to sleep. Not wanting to panic anyone, I kept quiet.

I had a long ride to the airport ahead of me. Two and a half hours in the backseat of an SUV, with a driver and one other passenger. Down a curving mountain road.

I never get carsick. Ever. But with that road and our driver taking the turns a bit aggressively, I struggled a bit. Still, we made it to the airport without incident. And as soon as I cleared security, I raced to Hudson News for some damn ginger ale.

I still had no idea what hit me. It felt like a fast-moving stomach bug. I’d had some seafood while in town, after all. Still, when a colleague who was departing from the gate next to me came over and sat by me to shoot the breeze, I told him to give me some space, a seat’s worth, just in case I had covid and was contagious.

I slept the sleep of the dead on that flight home. I am not sure I even got up, maybe once to use the restroom. On the way home, I picked up more ginger ale, bread for toast, and applesauce. I slept for 11 hours.

The next day, my energy was back at 80 percent, though my appetite was not. I went to urgent care — my primary care doc is 45 minutes away and I didn’t want to make the trek — and the doc told me I likely had a stomach bug, and all I could do was rest, eat bland foods, and avoid caffeine or alcohol for a few days.

I asked about a covid test but was told the virus was low risk in my city and they were “keeping an eye on it”. It was implied there was no need to test.

I begged off beers with a friend that night. Told him I was sick. He joked he hoped it wasn’t coronavirus. Little did we know what awaited.

I bring this up because it’s very surreal to be sick with something, and not know what, when a new virus is becoming a world health concern. I don’t think I had covid — though some cases have been gastrointestinal — but I will never, ever know.

March

My next work trip wasn’t a trip at all, but a short jaunt to my city’s suburbs for a half-day meeting. Our hosts gave us hand-sanitizer and I was still in full hand-washing fury at this point, but we, as a society, still seemed in denial, or at least unaware, of the changes to come. Once again, the world still felt normal, despite the travel-site bottle of sanitizer I now had in my jacket pocket.

I was still making plans for baseball’s opening day and summer concerts and all the rest, as well as plans to travel for work in April and May. So was everyone else I know.

That was on or around March 4. Seven days later, shit got real.

I traveled to Tucson for work on March 9. Our hosts told us they’d not be insulted if we chose not to shake hands. Earlier, I’d shaken hands with my shuttle driver out of habit and worried if that was a mistake. I was washing my hands every time I came into my hotel room from outside, and just about every time I touched something.

At dinner, people joked about not touching their faces.

On March 10, a large industry event was pushed from April to August (it would later cancel). A bunch of us were standing around, outside, at our event when our phones lit up with the news. It was the first time I realized a lot of future events might be binned.

Still, nothing prepared me for the following day.

March 11

I got lucky and got an upgrade to first class on my flight home. I remember sanitizing like crazy before and after I ate, and throughout the flight.

What I remember most, though, is what happened after I landed.

It took me about an hour to drive home from O’Hare. In that time, the NCAA announced it would have no fans at March Madness (soon, there would be no 2020 March Madness) and the NBA suspended its season.

I was home in time for then-president Donald Trump’s address to the nation.

When he was done speaking, I knew the world had changed.

At some point, we learned Tom Hanks and his wife had covid.

It would take a few more days for state and local officials where I live to outline restrictions. The world really and truly shut down, at least in my neck of the woods, on the following Monday.

But March 11, 2020, is the day for me when it fell.

The buildup was nonexistent in January, slowly ramping up in early and mid-February, and front and center on the radar in late February.

It took less than two weeks from there for the fall to be complete