Six Feet From Comfort
By Mark Otto
Comfort
noun
a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint.
the easing or alleviation of a person's feelings of grief or distress.
verb
ease the grief or distress of; console.
“We’re in this together.”
A phrase designed to comfort us in these times. I’ll admit that I’ve used it a time or 12 over the last few months. In the beginning, I meant it when I said it, and I still do to an extent, but lately it feels more ironic or sarcastic. In all honesty, I’ve found some comfort in that…
In March, when news of the novel coronavirus was hitting the airwaves, I noticed that all around me, people were seeing these stories and rushing out to buy as much toilet paper and hygiene products as they could. At the time, my mother had been staying with me and we were making plans to take her back to her home in Arizona. I took some time off to spend with family and friends. One of the first things I noticed was that there was still a lot of toilet paper on the shelves. I toyed with the idea about loading up the car and selling it like some kind of pandemic profiteer. For whatever reason, Mom decided to come back to Vegas with me, and the following week, Governor Sisolak issued his first shutdown order. Suddenly everyone was deemed either essential or non-essential. Many got the option to work from home. I did not get that option.
By day, I work at one of the local news stations as a video editor. Most of my coworkers got home set-ups; on-air talent had cameras and lights installed in their homes as well. The computers I work with don’t allow us to work remotely, so here I am, still driving to and from work. By the end of that first week, most everyone was gone. Admittedly, I found some comfort in their absence, extra workload notwithstanding…
”For me, it was Tuesday.” - M. Bison, Street Fighter (1994). Photos/Mark Otto.
At home, I had no problem quarantining. I managed to stock up on groceries and supplies and had things delivered as needed. I learned that I preferred picking up my own groceries. On days that I went out to shop, I’d shower and change clothes when I returned home. I used an older pair of shoes that I would leave outside. Of course, Mom cares about my well-being, and I’d do whatever I had to make sure she didn’t get sick. That’s one way I could be comforting. I then decided to ask her to help me with a photoshoot.
Image/Tina from Bob’s Burgers.
Some know me for my Tina Belcher (from the TV show Bob’s Burgers) cosplays. Cosplay, first and foremost, should be about love for the character one intends to cosplay. For me, seeing the character of Tina be confident in her awkwardness made her relatable to me, especially since it took me decades to mostly arrive at that point in my life. Here was someone who had her sense of character down at 13 and that’s something that I think we could all learn from in life: ownership of who we are. This pandemic gave me an opportunity to put a current events spin on the character and so I donned the wig, the skirt, and a facemask and presented my take on QuaranTina. I shared them on my social media sites, as well as my cosplay page on Facebook, Vegas Tina. The shoot might not have gone as viral as my previous cosplays, but it was generally well-received, and I hope it was the levity that people needed at the time.
I wasn’t the first, nor was I the last, but if it made you smile, then I did my best.
Here is where I tell you something about myself, something I don’t always feel like sharing: my name is Mark, and I’m an alcoholic. In April, I celebrated six years of sobriety. I say this not to brag or for any type of praise, but let you know that there was a time when getting drunk and high was a common coping mechanism for me. I did that for about 25 years until I realized (well after the fact) that it didn’t work for me anymore. I got help. I went to meetings. I helped others to the best of my ability. I even managed to form friendships with people from all over the country when they’d visit Las Vegas and went to meetings here. Before the shutdown was put in place, I let people at my regular meeting know that I wouldn’t be attending in order to keep my mom safe. Not long after the Governor’s order, Zoom became a regular part of my life. Part of going to meetings for me is carrying the message, and online meetings still allow me to do that, especially now when so many are struggling financially as well as spiritually and emotionally. I tried to attend meetings on a regular schedule, but after a few weeks of shutdown, my work hours rotated from dayshift one week to a night shift the next and back again. As a casualty, logging into meetings regularly became less and less. One day at a time, I suppose…
Another facet of my life is that I am also immunocompromised, which puts me in a high-risk group should I get infected. A few years ago, I had this issue where random cuts would appear on my fingers. I chalked it up to the weather drying out my skin and used lotions and covered up cuts as they appeared. I did this for about almost two years. During that time, my hands began to terribly ache to the point where simple tasks like opening doors and putting on/removing socks took a great deal of effort. The pain spread to my arms and was so bad that my morning stretches felt like my muscles were being pulled from my humerus like rib meat falling off the bone. I was finally convinced that I should see a doctor who referred me to a rheumatologist. After a gauntlet of tests, I was diagnosed with dermatomyositis, an auto-immune disorder where my immune system attacks my muscle cells. I began to manage it with medication that suppresses my immune system and everything has been hunky-dorey for the next couple of years.
During the early days of the pandemic, there was a lot of talk about how the elderly and people with underlying conditions should stay home so potentially asymptomatic people could continue to do as they please. As time passed, reports of more and more cases of younger and relatively healthier people than me becoming infected began hitting the airwaves and newsfeeds. By now, we’ve all known someone (or someone who knows someone) who’s been infected, maybe even succumbed to this disease. If you can’t count yourself in that number, then count your blessings. As for me, I still get to live my life. I get to go to work. I get to put gasoline in my car. I get to go to stores and buy what I need. My only other options are deliveries that leave me with subpar produce or risking my mother’s health, and frankly, neither one is acceptable to me. Over the months, I’ve seen people begin to take this more seriously and for what it’s worth, I’ve found more comfort in that, even though I quietly wish they would’ve gotten to this point sooner.
I attempted to keep a journal of everything that was happening, not just to me but all around us. As the pandemic dragged on, shutdowns were lifted as cases and deaths began to rise. By May, I could feel myself running out of gas in regards to comforting those around me. I began reaching out to fewer people. As the news got worse, I could see fear spread like a ripple across social media. People - friends, family, and strangers alike - were afraid of where their next paycheck was coming from, whether or not if they or their loved ones would get sick, that this was just another step towards a New World Order, or whatever other reason they needed. They’d share their various points of view online and sometimes, I would try to engage them in the hopes of offering another perspective or injecting some levity or helping them separate facts from feelings. As a member of “the media,” I tried to share my experience in an attempt to help others understand. Part of that experience was learning in real time about this virus, how our leaders planned to deal with it, and the public’s various reactions to the news of the day. More often than not, I would be met with resistance. People didn’t want to listen but they wanted to be heard and when that wasn’t enough, they wanted to (figuratively) shoot the messenger.
I s’pose I can find comfort in the fact that we’re all processing this as best as we can - as differently as we can. Some days are easier to do so than others. If you’ve made it this far, I wish I had some universal solution to share with you. Pray or meditate. Create or medicate. Admitting that I don’t have any answers honestly leaves me a feeling a little uncomfortable. But I know I’m not alone in that experience. Chances are, you might be there too and if that’s the case, then it’s likely that someone else does as well. The fact that movies, concerts, sporting events, and conventions have either been cancelled or postponed is testament to as much. If I did have a suggestion to help comfort you in these times, it would be to change your perspective. Don’t think of it as ‘having’ to wear a mask but think of it as you ‘getting’ to and if you want to dwell on how much you hate it, well you can find solace in knowing that nobody else actually likes wearing them either. After all, we’re in this together, right?
Right?
Mark Otto has spent his life trying to find the best answer to the question “What do you do?” When no one else is looking, he can be seen writing stories that can be found in Plot Twist Publishing’s anthologies. He has also lived, laughed, and loved but never at the same time. By day, he edits videos for a local news station. By night, he stays indoors because of the pandemic.
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