The COVID-19 Pandemic
- margeauxcandlin
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
Fear
Fear spread.
Across oceans.
Across continents.
Across living rooms.
The virus traveled through droplets,
through contact,
through the air itself (World Health Organization, 2020).
No one immune.
No one certain.
"Will I get sick?"
"How sick?"
"Who will I lose?"
Some coughed as if with a cold.
Others gasped for air until death (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention [CDC], 2020).
Over and over again:
Not enough ventilators.
Not enough nurses.
Not enough protective gear (Shaukat et al., 2020).
Healthcare Providers
Heroes.
Frontline staff.
Essential workers.
But behind the titles—witnesses to staggering loss.
More deaths in weeks than in entire careers (Lai et al., 2020).
Isolation
No visitors.
No hand to hold but a nurse’s.
Patients died alone.
Others faced surgeries in silence.
Nursing homes closed doors to protect the many—
but at the cost of touch, presence, love.
Distance became the rule:
stay six feet apart,
wear a mask,
if you’re sick—stay home.
Streets went quiet.
Airplanes grounded.
Skylines emptied.
Cities felt like prisons,
walls closing in (Brooks et al., 2020).
Migration
So we left—
out of cities,
into the arms of mountains, fields, and sky.
Small towns prized.
Nature rediscovered (Richardson & McEwan, 2020).
Cities hardened—
crime rising where silence once lay.
Mortality and Impermanence
Life’s fragility no longer theoretical.
It arrived at our doorsteps.
And questions surfaced:
"If time is short, is this path the right one?"
"Is my life meaningful?"
"Why am I working so much?"
"Why this endless rushing?"
Civil Rights
Then—George Floyd.
Derek Chauvin’s knee on his neck.
Nine minutes.
Floyd gasping, pleading: “I can’t breathe.”
Captured on phones.
Echoes of lynchings.
Echoes of slavery.
The illusion of freedom fractured.
We asked: "Are we still living in racial terror?"
Trust in police cracked wide open.
Protests rose.
Some peaceful.
Some violent (Bailey et al., 2021).
The Pressure Cooker
Anger Boiled.
Centuries of oppression bursting through pandemic silence.
Chaos in the streets.
Fear in the air.
A collective rage.
A collective grief.
All the traumas,
from lifetimes before,
came pouring into view.
Anti-Racism
In the aftermath: DEI.
Ibram X. Kendi’s voice everywhere (Kendi, 2019).
The lens shifted:
racism was not just hatred—
it was bias.
It was silence.
It was denial.
To heal meant noticing our own walls,
and beginning to dismantle them.
The questions deepened:
"Where can I be safe?"
"Where will my body be free of fear?"
Those with means migrated again—
toward forests, mountains, quiet places.
Toward the healing spaces of nature (Richardson & McEwan, 2020).
Connection
Even in darkness, light appeared.
In Italy—singing from balconies.
Flags waving, voices rising: “We will make it through.”
In my neighborhood—bells, clapping, cheering each night.
Gratitude offered to strangers in scrubs.
Neighbors carried groceries to the vulnerable.
Zoom replaced bars and restaurants.
FaceTime stitched hearts together.
Connection possible, even apart.
Gratitude grew.
For health.
For family.
For love (McMahan & Estes, 2015).
Restoring Wellbeing
The vaccine came—
faster than any before.
But so did questions:
Mandates or freedom?
Science or morality?
Individual risk or collective safety?
Vaccination became more than a choice—
it became a judgment of character.
2025
The pandemic a memory—
but the fallout remains.
Isolation left scars.
Division widened.
Support systems crumbled.
I look at my country and wonder:
"Why cut programs that help the vulnerable?"
"Why are children killed in classrooms?"
"Why wars without end?"
I thought we were more sophisticated.
I thought liberty meant liberty for all.
Instead—liberty for some.
If healing is possible—
it begins with connection.
Not in politics.
Not in policy.
But in remembering—
we all long for the same things:
Love.
Safety.
Belonging.
When we return to that truth,
we begin to restore health—
to ourselves,
to our communities,
to our world.
Artwork by Andrea Candlin in honor of the victims at Annunciation School September 2025:
Acknowledgements
This reflective narrative was written by me and represents my own experiences and perspectives. I used OpenAI’s ChatGPT (GPT-5) as an editorial tool to support formatting, organization, and stylistic refinement. All content, analysis, and interpretations are my own.
References:
Bailey, Z. D., Feldman, J. M., & Bassett, M. T. (2021). How structural racism works—Racist policies as a root cause of U.S. racial health inequities. New England Journal of Medicine, 384(8), 768–773. https://doi.org/10.1056/NEJMms2025396
Brooks, S. K., Webster, R. K., Smith, L. E., Woodland, L., Wessely, S., Greenberg, N., & Rubin, G. J. (2020). The psychological impact of quarantine and how to reduce it: Rapid review of the evidence. The Lancet, 395(10227), 912–920. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(20)30460-8
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2020). COVID-19: Cases, data, and surveillance.
Kendi, I. X. (2019). How to be an antiracist. One World.
Lai, J., Ma, S., Wang, Y., Cai, Z., Hu, J., Wei, N., ... & Hu, S. (2020). Factors associated with mental health outcomes among health care workers exposed to coronavirus disease 2019. JAMA Network Open, 3(3), e203976. https://doi.org/10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2020.3976
Richardson, M., & McEwan, K. (2020). Effects of contact with nature on health and wellbeing. Annual Review of Environment and Resources, 45, 371–392.
Shaukat, N., Ali, D. M., & Razzak, J. (2020). Physical and mental health impacts of COVID-19 on healthcare workers: A scoping review. International Journal of Emergency Medicine, 13(1), 40. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12245-020-00299-5
World Health Organization. (2020). Coronavirus disease (COVID-19) pandemic. https://www.who.int/emergencies/diseases/novel-coronavirus-2019
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