Safety in Numbers

The first thing I started tracking was the case count.  The day that Utah was at 5 confirmed cases, I started checking the numbers.  Over the weekend, I started checking for other states I had a personal interest in.  Georgia for Kirk.  Nevada for Lisa.  Idaho for Michelle.  Ohio for Suman.  And the country as a whole for context.  By Monday, my mind was a mess of numbers.  So I started writing them down.  I started a Google Sheet to track the official counts from the official websites.  And then I ran stats.  Most commonly, the percentage of increase in the last 24 hours.

It calmed me.  Knowing exactly what to fear.

Next, I started tracking steps.  10,000 steps per day during my dismissal from school.  Something I could control.  Something I could work toward.  I watched my Fitbit carefully, even pacing the living room to watch the numbers escalate if needed.  I couldn't rest unless I'd reached the goal.

It focused me.  Knowing there are some things I could still control.

Then money.  I went back through three months of bank statements to determine an average weekly amount I spend in discretionary ways.  I added a tab in by "Coronavirus Tracker" Sheet and set a goal of how much I'd like to spend weekly to boost my local economy.  I asked David to do it, too.  And then I spent. 

It uplifted me.  Knowing I can live within my means and still be generous.

Now, it's oxygen levels.  On the recommendation of my friend Steph who is an ER nurse, I bought an oximeter.  I've put it on David's finger 5 times in the last two hours.  95.  94.  94.  96.  98.   I've also taken her advice to take the family's temperatures twice daily.  Nothing alarming yet.  But I write them down.  I aggregate.  I apply statistical formulas. 

It levels me.  Knowing if one of us gets sick, I can make data-based decisions.

In a world full of uncertainty, my mental health hinges heavily on this perceived net; safety in numbers.