Expect to get COVID19 in the next 365 days
Do not expect to get COVID19 in the next 365 days
Got it
Tested positive for antibodies
Josh Simonds
www.nixfrixshun.com
www.facebook.com/NFSspeedshop
www.bicycle-coach.com
Vsalon Fromage De Tęte
Trod Harland, Pickle Expediter
Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced. — James Baldwin
Even with a two week lag, there is a drop-off in deaths. Cases kept going up, deaths went down. If nothing else, there should have been some equilibrium. The 20-40 year old folks are the ones who are getting sick. Bullhead City opened all the bars and beaches along the Colorado River. They have almost quadrupled their cases and are driving the statistics for the entire county.
Retired Sailor, Marine dad, semi-professional cyclist, fly fisherman, and Indian School STEM teacher.
Assistant Operating Officer at Farm Soap homemade soaps. www.farmsoap.com
There are probably a lot of self-selection going on which explains some of the data. If mortality is expected to be lower in younger people, and the younger people are the ones participating in risky behavior, you will skew the mortality rate lower. Initially, as older and vulnerable populations didn't take precautions as early as necessary, the virus spread to care-homes and had high mortality. It's important to keep this group away from vulnerable group or fubar.
Plus our testing is getting better so maybe actual reported infections is closer to the true value as opposed to being a smaller percentage before.
Princess Cruise mortality was 1.7% and South Korea is 2.1%. The Princess Cruise number is probably very accurate consider the closed conditions. Since that population skewed older, you'd expect mortality rates in real world populations to be below that if you had a true infection count.
As long as older and other vulnerable populations self isolate from the populations exhibiting risky behavior, you may be able to ride this thing out with a mortality rate <1%.
Sorry for posting the obvious.
This is too good not to share.
----------------
I'm Too Anxious to Eat at Restaurants Right Now
I desperately miss restaurants and the people who work in them, but I can't make myself go back just yet. Here's why.
By Kat Kinsman July 08, 2020
I'm having a panic attack in a supermarket parking lot. This is probably not the first time this has happened to me, but I can't know for sure because when you live with anxiety and a panic disorder, the playback of scenes from your life tends to come with a steady crawl of terror at the bottom of the screen, obscuring the rest of the picture. Did I say something ridiculous? Did I turn off the stove? Did I return that email? Did I leave something out that the dogs can swallow and will necessitate a five-digit vet bill? A lot of time, therapy, and medication had allowed me in recent years to focus on the moment at hand and minimize (but never fully eliminate) the amount of real estate the upset takes up, but of course COVID-19 blew that all to hell and since March, opportunities for fear have been blasting out of every screen and speaker. In this particular instance, it's coming from my text messages, where Ali, one of my longest-term and dearest friends, is inviting me to dinner at a Brooklyn neighborhood restaurant that I've been going to faithfully for over 15 years. I'm just not ready.
I want to with every cell of my being. In pre-pandemic times, I'd text her right back, "See you in 15, and whoever gets there first should grab two seats at the bar if there's room," swoop some eyeliner on my face, and sprint out the door before the yowling agoraphobia had a chance to lock its claws around my ankles. Angela, my favorite bartender in all of New York City and possibly the world, would see me walk in the door and while she'd go through the pretense of asking, "What will yourself be having, my love?" we'd both know it's a French 75 and she'd have already started making it. Giant wrap-around hug from Ali, banter with Tim the veteran server and Berton the manager, burger (cooked black and blue with melted Gruyere and a slick of chipotle mayo, salad instead of fries—or maybe not), talk deep from the heart like we'd seen each other yesterday even if it had been half a year, cap it off with a little too much Branca Menta because hey why not, and stumble home with my battery and belly full. It's a celebration. It's just so goddamned normal. It feels like a different life.
The last time I took up residence at that very bar was on March 13, which I remember quite vividly because I was certain the woman several feet away around the corner of the L was going to murder me with her unchecked, open-mouthed coughing. Gross in non-pandemic times, and an act of what felt in the moment like careless violence in a month when the city was starting to shut down and spiral into uncertainty over how to stop the spread of a disease that any one of us could be harboring, deep and silent in our chests, unaware. Did she not know? Did she just not care? Was she just in denial or wanted to have one last open-mawed rally before the world ended? In any case, I couldn't control her behavior, so I did the only thing I could—finish quickly, tip heavily, and say a heartfelt thank you to the staff. I hope we'll all be back soon.
Now they're back—with a thousand precautions and protocols and outdoor-only seating and oh blessed day, a window for takeout cocktails—and I just can't make myself sit down at a table to join them. I'm too afraid, not of them but for them, and I don't know what the right thing is to keep them safe. People who work in hospitality are my personal heroes. They keep me fed, coddled, delighted, and at least temporarily sheltered from the woes of the world, even though in non-pandemic times, they're often among the most vulnerable people in the workforce. There are exceptions, of course, but the majority of restaurant workers don't have benefits through their employer—especially healthcare. Many haven't gotten any sort of government-based unemployment money because of documentation status (and if you think your favorite restaurants aren't relying on the labor of undocumented workers to get you your delicious meal, well, now you know) or because of overwhelmed and antiquated phone-mail-internet systems. And an hourly minimum wage—including the tipped minimum wage which varies by state but federally is $2.13—is the norm. Many restaurant workers just don't have an option to not return to work because they're the least able to weather the loss of a paycheck, but they're also at tremendous risk from exposure to diners who open their mouths to order, eat, and scream about the indignity of being asked to wear a mask to protect their fellow humans.
I can control my own behavior and I trust the safety standards of restaurant workers because the protocols come to them as naturally as breathing (pre-pandemic, at least), but the diners are the wild cards that keep my brain and guts on constant shuffle. Outdoor dining has resumed in New York City and I find myself crossing the street to avoid the sight and sounds of unmasked diners, even as I envy them. I, too, would like a break from the increasingly crushing monotony of my own home kitchen, and takeout from neighborhood places I'd like to stay in business. I'd like not to flinch when characters on TV shake hands or dance with abandon at crowded nightclubs or steal a fry from across the table. But the other screen I keep turning to won't let me look away. It's the COVID case tracker from my mother's nursing home in South Carolina—static for a while, but ticking ever upward since the state reopened.
As I spent that final evening indulging in my burger, she was on Day Three of lockdown. At the time, it just meant that the facility was closed to outside visitors—which was bad enough because it meant my immuno-compromised father couldn't make his daily visit—but now the residents are confined to their single or shared rooms. My mother is a nearly 77-year-old dementia patient with a host of physical, cognitive, and emotional impairments. She is helpless. She relies on interaction with other people to keep her tethered to the world and physically safe. While the state was reopening and I saw on the news that people were enjoying their first taste of unmasked abandon at beaches, bars, and restaurants all "Whew! So that's over!" I sat 700 miles away sobbing, useless. Her condition is such that solid food presents a choking hazard—she almost died last year when a forgetful fellow resident shared a bite of her PB&J—but go on and have your margarita and nacho platter at a crowded bar in spitting distance of the man who will sing along at an outdoor concert next to the daughter of a woman who shops alongside the healthcare worker from my mother's nursing home.
There were no cases there for months. As I write this, I am checking the tracker again. There were six recorded deaths there as of yesterday. Today the fatalities are up to ten. There will be more. The toll is infinitely worse at my aunt's nursing home in Pennsylvania—so bad that she cannot return to the memory care unit from the ICU where she was rushed with an infection. She, too, has dementia and cannot recognize her own family members or understand any of what is happening. I see people on my screens arguing that this is all about freedom. My mother—and millions of people like her in nursing homes and hospitals across the country—are just as American as any of them, and they do not have that luxury, just that of the selfless consideration of their fellow man, which feels these days to be as rare as toilet paper in April.
I want to take care of everyone—the staff of the restaurant that has seen me through heartbreak and joy, Ali, my aunt, my mother, my father who has seen her through the glass doors just once even though they have been married for over half a century, my sister who brings him everything he needs and lives in terror of bringing the virus home from the hospital where she works—and I cannot do anything but sit and shake in this parking lot, nervous that the grocery store I'm working up my courage to walk into will be filled with aggressively unmasked shoppers just double-dog-daring me to say a word to them about it. As it turns out there are only two of them, young, brawny, and breathing heavily onto the cheese kiosk, and I imagine walking up to them phone-first with my mother on a Skype screen 700 miles away and fading from the world, but I can't. There's only one iPad in the nursing home, borne room to room by a healthcare aide, and appointments are in great demand.
I want to scream at these selfish men until I fall down, but I envision the blast radius of my spit and tears, even through my mask, and how it would linger in the air for hours and how the whole place would need to shut down to clean up after me, so I swallow it down. I'm feeling so sickened and scared that the carefully-selected contents of my cart suddenly seem inedible—let alone a meal served on a sidewalk next to strangers. For now, I've lost my appetite.
I'm Too Anxious to Eat at Restaurants Right Now | Food & Wine
Dan in Oregon
---------------
The wheel is round. The hill lasts as long as it lasts. That's a fact. Everything else is pure theory.
Bumping this thread with a good non-political read. I thought this article did a nice job of laying out a number of the factors involved in reaching immunity to this virus:
Covid-19 antibodies, herd immunity, and vaccines, explained - Vox
And it ends with a very important point. Apologies for spoiling the ending.
With numerous clusters of infection like we have now in the United States, far more people need to be vaccinated to contain them, and the vaccine would need to have a higher level of efficacy. It would behoove everyone to try to contain the virus and limit the number of new infections to less than one per 1 million people per day, according to Bottazzi. “If we flatten the curve, we can then probably still try to get the most efficacious vaccine, but then arguably we don’t have to worry about reaching these 80, 90 percent [vaccine efficacies] that we really need,” she says.
So the prospect of a vaccine, even at a record pace, should not be a reason to relax the effort to contain the virus. It will take years to deliver the vaccine to billions of people around the world, and the virus may continue causing mayhem in the meantime. While we can’t control the immune response inside our bodies, we can set the stage for herd immunity by reducing the spread of Covid-19 now.
Our first line of defense against the virus is the cells within us, but stopping the outbreaks will depend on the whole world working together.
"I guess you're some weird relic of an obsolete age." - davids
As a person who spends part of his day violating the Constitutional rights of folks by making them wear a mask at work, people working together is fantasy. As a society, we are too selfish to think of the greater good, the only consolation is the people who refuse to social distance or wear a face covering will likely be the ones who get sick. We've had 4 cases out of 700 employees, but we have more than a dozen quarantined at home because they didn't practice social distancing or properly wear a face covering when they were around the person who is infected. Now they get time off without pay. I carry a box of disposable masks when I walk around the plant and offer them to people who aren't wearing one. My offer is rhetorical.
Retired Sailor, Marine dad, semi-professional cyclist, fly fisherman, and Indian School STEM teacher.
Assistant Operating Officer at Farm Soap homemade soaps. www.farmsoap.com
I live in a town with no verified cases. Riding by the golf course the other day I noticed it was packed, that no one was wearing masks or staying the requisite distance apart.
We'll see how this goes.
Jay Dwight
Good news is outdoor spread is about 18 times less likely than indoor. Bad news is the virus is just waiting to be delivered to any and every community. Scores of counties that had no cases 2-3 months ago now have many.
All the individuals incapable of abstract thinking, blinded by partisan BS, or simply abhorrently selfish are spreading it, or will spread it, which is all the virus needs: a host who goes around to the same areas as others. I am so saddened and disgusted by the "wartime" response of this nation (as a nation).
The ability of people to be so misled and distracted and upset about the wrong things must be very exhilarating to those planning upcoming efforts of social media engineering (from Russia etc).
Meanwhile, in the swings and roundabouts department, flu deaths in Australia are down >90% in 2020 vs 2019.. The difference is ascribed to the measures taken to reduce the spread of COVID-19 plus the fact that 2019 was a particularly bad flu season.
The numeric difference (-394 deaths) is more than three times the total deaths to date from COVID-19 (128 but rising due to a second wave in Melbourne.)
I am not for a moment suggesting that this can be extrapolated to other countries. We are heading into our flu season (usually peaks about now). Also the COVID-19 death rate in, for instance, the USA is about 100 times higher per unit population than it is here (roughly 12 times the population, roughly 1200 times the total death count)
Mark Kelly
Josh Simonds
www.nixfrixshun.com
www.facebook.com/NFSspeedshop
www.bicycle-coach.com
Vsalon Fromage De Tęte
I added the last couple of sentences after you quoted the original.
Mark Kelly
This hit the lacrosse community this week and is getting some focus. Discussions about heart health post infection.
Jules Heningburg: 'This is Just Another Thing on My Plate' | US Lacrosse Magazine
I presume others have seen this. I don't know their methodology, and though I know how fraught using stats can be for unpredictable situations, I'm not a stats/numbers guy, so ymmv.
COVID-19 Event Risk Assessment Planning Tool
55% chance of a COVID positive school classroom in our county. The public schools have gone remote the first quarter. There's a lot more under the surface here, but I'm absolutely flabbergasted my wife's private school continues to double down on a hard, in-person open. Absolute turkeys. I keep wondering who will be held liable when there's an outbreak.
My daughter is a rising college senior, double-majoring in math and education with a minor in computer science. She has a summer research position working for her advisor. The original research topic was predicting debate outcomes. Her professor/advisor changed the topic to re-opening college campuses this fall under the COVID pandemic. Surprise, surprise, it essentially can't be done... at least in the US. Since all her classes for the fall semester can be done online, she decided to stay home.
Greg
Retired Sailor, Marine dad, semi-professional cyclist, fly fisherman, and Indian School STEM teacher.
Assistant Operating Officer at Farm Soap homemade soaps. www.farmsoap.com
I suppose the six feet thing helps more than doing nothing but isn't the virus circulating in the air?
Bookmarks