When chemo had zapped my immune system, my medical team warned me to take extra care to avoid people with coughs and colds. The vicar of our church, Beth, even called to counsel me NOT to come to Sunday services because so many members of the congregation were coughing and hacking their way through the hymns. Beth had sat in the waiting room with Cedric during my surgery and joined us for my first chemo session, so she wasn’t taking any chances.
I recall one day at the office when I was in the elevator. It stopped and the person who got on was sniffling visibly. I held my breath all the way down, deciding that I would rather expire from asphyxiation than catch an infection with a compromised immune system. I feel the same way now. I wear a mask at all times when I leave the apartment. If I’m already waiting in the elevator lobby and a neighbor appears or if the elevator stops half-way up or down, I ask people if they can get the next one. Fortunately, our building only has four floors. Everyone is very understanding although sometimes it takes them a moment to process what I’m saying. The jury is out on whether germs can linger in the air in the enclosed elevator cab, but I’m not taking any chances and I’m practicing holding my breath on each elevator ride, which isn’t easy – it’s hard to take that first huge breath with a mask on. Catch-22 for sure.