Don't kill my father

It is ironic that in a world where countries put the economy before the lives of people, the loss of lives causes the economy to crash. The world is trying to balance itself. Elect a con man, you get conned. Just not the way you thought you'd be. A world all about the money, who would have thought that behind all that money the world cares about people. The planet doesn't care about your wealth. Be kind. Be human. Finally.

I've been watching for days the news. A bipolar answer to the pandemic - lockdown and tears, vacations and parties. No worries, too much worry.

Corona is taking away from me something personal. It might take away from me the last chance to see my father. He's suffering from COPD/emphysema and barely can get up these days. It is too personal to share with most people. The last thing I told him was to take care of himself so I can see him at Easter.

I debated with myself a few times if I should go home in the beginning of February when he seemed to be getting worse, but then he got better. And then Corona hit. Slowly, insidiously, day after day.

I watched as the German numbers increased as the Koch Institute assured that all the cases are under control. Then I got a sore throat and mild fever and my institute immediately asked me to stay home. My boyfriend started coughing. Then I started coughing.

Despite the numbers, the German state believed the virus is contained. They cannot test everyone. They shouldn't test anyone with a cold. Who are they testing? Are they testing the dead? The ones that didn't come to the emergency room claiming corona? Did they really count all the deaths? Are there going to be more deaths? Why aren't they testing more?

My German improved in a few days. I stopped working, while reading incessantly the news. Much like everyone else in the world. Except, it hit me harder. If my mom gets the virus, my dad gets the virus, my dad will die. Will my mom get the virus, will my dad get the virus, will my dad die?

I wanted to yell at the Romanian authorities. Contain the virus, be competent! Don't crowd together all travelers! Quarantine them all! Don't go home, all of you, Romanians who left for a better life!
Don't kill my father!

Don't kill my father.

That has been my thought whenever I'd see young people joking around, going out, not understanding how serious the situation will get. Because of you, I thought, because of you my father could die. Your own father could die. Your mother. Why don't you care?

Of course, they don't understand the imminence of my personal tragedy. I spend hours reading the news again. If I go home, can I self-quarantine, would I risk giving the virus to my father. If he dies, can I go to his funeral. If I go back to Romania, can I come back. And no one knows at this point. There are no answers, just uncertainties. And a deep pain inside. 

Don't kill my father, please. I'm trying not to kill yours.