18 months ago I was happy… and sad.

I smiled, and frowned, and made jokes that came from inside, went on rants , and spoke of kindness.

Then it happened and the world turned into death. Not the individual deaths (like the kind I’m just now processing) but death on a massive scale.

It was just us, in a small office, wearing white tyvex bunny suits, scrubs and masks.

Our little office … our little cave was our refuge, able to take off our masks and trust that our little group would be careful because we fought for each other, loved each other.

Then we called, again and again called.

And told the families of death, of soon to be deaths, and of crippling long term disability (and those were the happy ones).

Then it got better… then it got worse again.

And the me that laughed, and smiled, and told jokes, cowered inside a box inside my soul covered in tyvex and fully masked and suffocating in its safety. Never allowing a death nor a sadness to get through.

And it was quiet, and it was safe.

But it was sterile and empty.

With the help of family and some friends, I’ve begun to shed the tyvex and crawled out of that box inside my soul.

We still fight with and speak of death, but we also speak of life… and how we will help you live.

I once again feel… and it’s exhausting.