The latest Covid-19 outbreaks might change our meals

The news this morning.

Where is the virus "soaring"? According to the article in the photo, 110 of the new cases came from "increased testing in Black Hawk county--home to a Tyson Fresh Meats pork processing plant that temporarily closed after an outbreak."

Approximately 150 people "with close connections to the plant" have tested positive for coronavirus.

(Apparently, they don't call them slaughterhouses anymore. They call them meat processing plants.)

There's much to say about this trend in Covid-19 outbreaks in "meat processing plants," which, in Iowa, employ more than 5000 people.

One might wonder how people who raise hogs might be affected. They're going to have to kill baby pigs because the people who raise them won't have the money to feed them.

(As a word person, I think it's interesting that they say "kill baby pigs" in this instance, but they usually say "harvest meat" when they refer to killing hogs/pigs for food. . . .)

One might ask why the managers did not institute protections for workers earlier (former Iowa Governor Tom Vilsack suggests that they were swayed by government leaders' early insistence that the virus wasn't going to be a problem).

One might also ask about the people who work in meat processing plants. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, workers earn less than $15/hour plus benefits. It's enough to live on, maybe, but not enough to save for times of unemployment or illness.

One might also ask how the animals are raised, how meat production affects our environment, and how meat consumption affects our health.

Picture of a CAFO (Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation), from the Des Moines Register. I think most of the meat in Iowa comes from these really huge operations.

This latest wave of infections--and closures of meat processing plants--has gotten me thinking about what I eat.

Bruce and I are pretty much "flexitarians," that is, we eat mostly vegetarian, but we do eat some meat.  Meat is usually an addition, not the main star, in our meals, despite the fact that we grew up during the 4 Basic Food Groups era!

Any other Boomers remember these pictures? 

We love things made with legumes, like this delicious Black Bean Taco recipe, and my "what to eat when there's 'nothing' in the pantry" red lentil curry.  I'm a fan of simple quiches and pasta dishes, too.

I'm thinking we might lean harder on our vegetarian tendencies during this pandemic. Perhaps it'll lead to a gradual shift to vegetarianism that will last.

So how has this pandemic affected your eating patterns? Has it gotten you to think more about what you eat and where your food comes from?

Life in Region 6, and a confession

On Thursday, April 16, Iowa's governor, Kim Reynolds, signed an order regarding the pandemic.

Did she order Iowans to shelter in place, as have many U.S. governors?

Map of states with shelter-in-place orders (gold/orange)
 https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/us/coronavirus-stay-at-home-order.html.

No, she did not.

She's been pretty hesitant to issue a shelter-in-place order, despite the fact that Iowa now has more cases of Covid-19 than Minnesota, to its north, despite Minnesota having 2x the population...(Minnesota has been under a shelter-in-place order for a while, maybe 2 weeks.)

Bruce suspects that, conservative Republican that she is, Reynolds is loathe to upset the Trump-supporting Iowans who are her base. And with Trump irrationally urging people to defy shelter-in-place orders (don't even get me started on that), she's not going to issue one.

Anyway, what Governor Reynolds did do was issue a Proclamation of Disaster Emergency for "Region 6" of Iowa--which includes Cedar Rapids, where we live, and most of the northeastern part of the state. 

Region 6 is the burnt orange section. 

The order is not called "shelter in place," but it does prohibit any gatherings of people from different households and asks that people who leave their homes make "every reasonable effort" to stay 6 feet away from each other.

The proclamation also orders businesses to evaluate whether employees could work from home, and, if not, take "reasonable precautions" to ensure employees health.

I certainly hope Iowans are "reasonable."

I fear this move might be coming too late--during the few days before this order came out, big Covid-19 outbreaks in a couple slaughterhouses (do they call them that anymore?) were reported: almost 200 cases diagnosed at a slaughterhouse in southeast Iowa, and 150 cases diagnosed at a  slaughterhouse in Waterloo. (This paragraph was updated for accuracy 21 April)

Seems like people need to stay away from each other, something you really can't do in a slaughterhouse. By the way, only the Waterloo slaughterhouse is in Region 6.

At our house, we're pretty much sheltering in place already . . . well, mostly.

There are two non-social-distancing pleasures I've allowed myself. And now I'm wondering if maybe I'll need to give them up. 

Throughout this pandemic, I've kept going on occasional walks through the neighborhood with my friend Anne.

Anne and I on a chilly day

Our walks, which we've been doing together for years, are our way of catching up on each other's news while getting some exercise. It's "walk and talk" with an emphasis on talk. Maybe we could wear masks now, and walk six feet apart. I've seen people doing that.

Bruce and I have also continued to enjoy weekend visits with Robbie and Aubrey. Once the Y closed, they've been coming over to do BodyFlow (via video) with me in our basement on Saturdays. They often just stay for lunch, then hang out. I will be very sad to give up those delightful weekend visits.

Robbie and Aubrey looking at skunk cabbage earlier in March. Sometimes we do things outside, which gives me an idea . . . 

Friday, Aubrey, Robbie, and I met at Cedar Lake to look at birds instead. We hope to meet up at Palo Lake Saturday for more birding. We'll try to keep 6' apart.

Robbie, Aubrey, and I saw a pair of blue-winged teal at Cedar Lake. We might be walking far apart, looking at birds outside instead of lunching together.

Writing students hear stories of Covid-19

An emergency room triage nurse came to my nonfiction writing class yesterday, dressed in PPE--a mask, headband, glasses, and gloves.

OK, there was no emergency. And really, no classroom either. My class was meeting online via Zoom, and a friend of mine who's a triage nurse at St. Luke's Hospital Emergency Room, Teresa Williams, joined us for the online meeting.

That's Teresa on the right with the headband and mask

Teresa was there to talk with my students about working in the Emergency Room during the pandemic, how she's handling the influx of Covid-19 patients, how the hospital is responding, what it's like working under the pressure of a fast-spreading disease.

Why have a nurse visit a writing class? My writing students are spending the last four weeks of the semester--these weeks of online instruction due to the pandemic--writing about life during the pandemic. We've been reading examples of narrative nonfiction written about life during various crises, including the 1918 Influenza epidemic and the Dust Bowl of the 1930s.

Besides writing about their own experiences with this particular crisis, they are talking with others whose lives have been affected by the pandemic. I was so grateful that Teresa agreed to talk with all of us.

Once she shed her face mask and gloves, Teresa affirmed what we already knew: that Covid-19 cases are still on the rise here in Cedar Rapids. There have been 276 cases reported in Linn County as of today. Of course, that reported number is just the number of people who are sick enough to go someplace like a hospital and get tested. There are many more people who probably have Covid-19, but haven't been tested--they've called their doctors, described the symptoms, and been told to quarantine themselves at home unless their symptoms get worse.

Over at the St. Luke's Hospital Emergency Room, there has been a steady stream of patients with Covid-19. Not an unmanageable surge--yet--but plenty of sick people. "I probably get exposed to Covid 5 to 10 times a day," Teresa said.

The entrance to St. Luke's Emergency Room

We wanted to know what it was like to interact with people who were sick enough that they came into the hospital for treatment. Teresa told us that it was pretty clear when someone was sick enough to be admitted to the hospital.

"Normally for an adult, the respiratory rate is about 20 breaths per minute," Teresa said. "These patients are coming in with a rate of 40 or 50 per minute. It's like they just ran a race and can't catch their breath."

While Teresa's mask, and gloves seemed like good protection, once a Covid-19 patient has been diagnosed, nurses who work with that patient have to don what Teresa called "the full outfit," PPE protective gear that covers the entire body, like an astronaut's suit.

"It has to be put on in a certain order," Teresa told us. "It takes two people to put it on."

The full PPE outfit includes a full coverall, gloves, a hood, and a helmet with a clear plastic face shield. There is a tube running down from the helmet that connects to an oxygen supply so that the nurse or doctor isn't breathing in the virus expelled by the patient. "It's bulky and heavy," Teresa pointed out. But that PPE is essential when working closely with very sick patients--taking blood tests, administering oxygen, taking other vital signs.

Teresa told us that those very ill patients are sent to the 5th floor of the hospital--a floor that's been prepared to receive Covid-19 patients. There, health care workers wear full PPE all day.

This week, that floor is "pretty much full," Teresa says, and the hospital is considering whether to open rooms on another floor.

The students and I have had our lives upended by this pandemic. Instead of meeting in person for classes and being part of that residential college experience, we are connecting via screens and email, struggling with isolation, and worrying about the future. But for most of us, we can stay away from sources of infection and do our work--whether studying or teaching--from home.

Not so for Teresa and the other health care workers. As Teresa put it, they are like firefighters who run towards the burning building while everyone else flees.

I'm so grateful for their bravery and steadfastness, and for Teresa's willingness to share a bit of her story with us.

Closing in

For the past couple of days, I've had the distinct feeling that the coronavirus is closing in on us.

I saw a version of this map the other day, showing where Iowa's cases are, and how many.

This is from April 7--there's an updating map here.

The color scheme is particularly alarming, with the red-for-danger indicating highest number of cases. Linn County, our county, has the highest number of cases, surpassing Johnson County, where Covid-19 was first diagnosed. The number of cases in Linn County even surpasses Polk County, which has double the population of Linn County.

I've noticed a slight change in the news and feature stories about coronavirus, too. Maybe this piece has always been in the NYTimes Coronavirus Coverage section, but I just recently noticed it. It's called "What YOU can do about Coronavirus Right now." It has a segment called "You Can Recover From Illness" that begins with this line:

Many of us may get sick.

The article then goes on to describe how we should care for ourselves and others who get the disease (separate the person from the rest of the family, bring meals to the room but don't stay ("Most of the time, a sick person will feel a bit miserable, but he or she can pick up food trays left six feet away," keep pets away), etc.)

Another paragraph is subtitled "Make sure your end-of-life documents are up to date."

With the number of reported cases of Covid-19 on the rise (Linn County has 186 as I write this), we're also more likely to know people who have been infected.

One of my students wrote me to ask for an extension on the due date for his paper (I'm handing out extensions liberally; students just need to ask. Of course, I then ask them to tell me when they'll turn the paper in. "Deadlines are our friends" is one of my mottos). The student told me that his uncle is very sick with Covid-19, and was in the hospital. His mom is very distraught about her brother.

My friend whose grandmothers are residents in the nursing home where there was an outbreak wrote that one of her grandmothers has tested positive for the disease.

An email came from campus this week, notifying us that someone who worked on campus has tested positive for Covid-19.

John Prine, one of Bruce's favorite singer-songwriters, passed away yesterday evening from complications of the coronavirus. He'd been in the hospital for a while.

As I got into bed, Bruce played a John Prine song that I liked on his phone. We lay there in bed, reflecting on the fact that a person who survived cancer and could come up with lyrics that rhymed "dusty pew," "vestibule," and "pocket pool" had just been taken from us by Covid-19.

Everyone's mad at Governor Reynolds

There are angry posts about Iowa Governor Kim Reynolds on social media every day--several times a day. I even saw a post from someone who doesn't live in Iowa.

Why is everyone mad?

Governor Reynolds is one of just a few governors who has not issued a shelter-in-place directive to respond to the coronavirus spread.

Gold states have shelter-in-place orders. Iowa isn't one.

I looked up what a "shelter-in-place" directive is. It's what you'd expect. People should remain in place in their homes except for essential activities. Those activities include things like getting groceries or medicine, seeing a doctor, caring for elderly relatives, and (in most cases) outdoor exercise--provided you maintain a 6 foot distance.

With all the outrage going on about Gov. Reynolds and her reluctance to issue a shelter-in-place directive, I have been kind of "eh" about it. I mean, most people I know are already sheltering in place!

Many businesses have gone to work-from-home mode, lots of stores are closed. Schools are closed. Churches are doing online services. Entertainment venues from movie theatres to bars to the baseball stadium to the Paramount Theatre (where Orchestra Iowa performs) are all closed. It's not like we could gather in large groups very easily! I mean, who needs an official shelter-in-place order?

My ambivalence toward this order might have something to do with my disposition. I don't really like to be told what to do. It's not like I'm going to outright defy or disobey someone if they tell me I have to do something. But as soon as someone says I must do something, I start to ask questions. Why do I have to do this? Is this the best way to do things? What kind of outcome do you want? And the like.  Gretchen Rubin would call me a "Questioner."

]How do you respond to expectations--your own, and the expectations of others? You can take Gretchen Rubin's Four Tendencies Quiz  to find out!]

Despite my questioning tendency, I'm basically sheltering-in-place anyway.

But I'm doing it because I want to, not because you told me to.

As a Questioner, I've done my research. I've found out that, yes, staying home and away from other people IS the best thing to do at this time. So that's what I'm doing.

But here's the thing: Not everyone is doing this best thing!

On  Friday, I was shocked to see this article in our local paper about a "trotting horse" sale in southern Iowa--"hundreds" of people attended! 

It looks from this photo like it was the Amish community. Who else would be selling and buying harness horses?

And it's not like they don't know about the pandemic--they had postponed the sale already.

Someone posted on social media a note from a worker at Menard's (the big-box hardware store here) that basically said: "Don't come in to Menard's to wander around and look at stuff! Don't come to do random errands that you could put off! Don't come here because you're tired of being at home!" Clearly, people are doing that, despite the virus.

And last night, when we were on a walk, we noticed our neighbors having a bonfire with a group of people. I think there were fewer than 10 people, but still! And a friend on Facebook posted a photo of the same thing in her neighborhood in a different state.

Defying common sense.

So I guess maybe Governor Reynolds does need to issue an official order. I'll let The Other Dr. Nesmith help us understand why she has not done that yet!

Current Controversies: Masks

Today, we awoke to this headline on the paper.

Many of you may be aware that the whole Mask Issue has been going on for a while. The main problem is that there aren't enough medical-grade masks for everyone, and we should reserve them for medical professionals.

In response patterns and instructions for making homemade masks have popped up all over the internet. There seem to be three main kinds of homemade masks:
The pleated ones

The pointy ones that allow for an extra filter to be inserted

No-sew masks

But here's the thing: there doesn't seem agreement over whether face masks are even a good idea. CDC recommends them

But WHO does not seem to recommend them, except if you're taking care of sick people.

One of the problems: It's weird to wear a mask! Wearing them tends to make people fiddle with them and consequently, touch their face a lot. Also: do they even filter anything other than giant drops of spit? I'm thinking they're like using a chain link fence to keep mosquitoes out.

So really, I'm not sure how I feel about the Mask Issue.

Still, I did wear a mask yesterday when I went to the grocery store. It was more crowded than I thought, so I put on my mask. I had to keep thinking don't touch it, don't touch it.

I noticed a few things from wearing it. I could feel my breath, fogging up in behind the mask. I felt a bit self-conscious as very few other people were wearing masks.

And I didn't feel I needed to smile the kind of placating smiling that many women do in public. This was the strangest sensation. As a woman, I probably smile as a way to appease others: "See--I'm smiling. You can let me pass." But no one could see most of my face!

As I walked through the aisles--not showing an alert and appeasing face, not speaking to anyone--I felt more relaxed than usual. I thought to myself this must be what it's like to be a man.

Zooming through classes

Screenshot of a Zoom meeting with some of my Writing Center consultants.

I saw this line somewhere on social media: Who's zooming who?  Everyone!

Yeah, it's a reference to that Aretha Franklin song. (And yeah, it should probably be "who's zooming whom," but it would be really pedantic for me to point that out.)

And another answer to the question could be: me! I'm Zooming! 

Zoom, of course, is the videoconferencing tool that allows people to have virtual meetings--or classrooms. It's had a huge boom this month (lol, a Zoom boom) as people have been using it to stay connected during this time of social distancing.

I've decided to use Zoom to connect with my students at Coe College while we're doing online learning this semester. This week, I used Zoom to host several class meetings, a staff meeting (for the Writing Center), and an interview with a prospective Writing Center consultant. (I also attended a couple of meetings and a Zoom birthday party!)

I do like the platform because I get to see and talk to my students, and hear their questions and comments. This is huge for building trust and connection with them, for encouraging and challenging them "in person," the way we do on campus at our small liberal-arts college when there's no pandemic. 

Rare photo of me teaching. I'm over at the left. Face-to-face is what I prefer.

There's something about being able to see and hear each other that's so important to me. I'm glad to be able to use it--glad that we have this technology available to us.

But when we went to online learning at Coe, we were cautioned about using too much technology--like Zoom! We were especially cautioned about making too many requirements for synchronous learning--learning where the students have to be doing something at a certain time to learn.

As many have been reporting, many college students--Coe students included--don't have an ideal situation for Work From Home--or maybe it should be Study From Home. Many of our students are first-generation college students (this has always been the case at Coe), from homes where the work of college is not completely understood. 

Here's an example: one of the students in my writing class sent me an anguished email before we left for break (and, it turns out, before we left for good). Her parents had heard about the college closing for an extra week at Spring Break, and they bought her an airline ticket to fly home . . . in the middle of that week. She missed the last day of classes--and important class activities--before break and the closure. 

A few of my students will be working in "essential" businesses: at least one is working in a nursing home, a couple are going back to work at grocery stores.

Others don't have jobs, and are worried about their income. Some don't have reliable internet, or are sharing bandwidth with parents and siblings. Some are taking care of other family members. 

So despite the wonders of Zoom and my carefully-planned post-pandemic course schedule, I'm not sure how many students will manage this shift. 

Of the 12 students in my writing class this semester, 7 have been to at least one of the two Zoom meetings. Of the 30 in my writing center course, I've seen 14 in our Zoom meetings.

Sad attendance record for a Zoom meeting

So I've given everyone an asynchronous option--something they can do at any time. I post notes from the meeting (I may start posting video), and I ask them to post comments on an online discussion forum. Some have taken advantage of those options . . . but not all. Not sure where the others are. Not sure what their situations are.

I really don't want online learning to exacerbate inequities. 

My tendency is always toward mercy, so I hope those missing students will contact me to let me know they're still around, still studying, still wanting to continue to write--even if they're not zooming.