From my balcony, I judged and cursed the unmasked

From my balcony, I judged and cursed the unmasked and those not maintaining social distance, but I was safe.

By SUSAN J. BERKSON
A man, who flew back from Spain, is seen on the balcony of a hotel where he and other passengers were placed in a two-week quarantine, after the Greek government imposed a nationwide lockdown to contain the spread of the coronavirus disease (COVID-19), in Athens, Greece, March 23, 2020 (photo credit: REUTERS/COSTAS BALTAS)
A man, who flew back from Spain, is seen on the balcony of a hotel where he and other passengers were placed in a two-week quarantine, after the Greek government imposed a nationwide lockdown to contain the spread of the coronavirus disease (COVID-19), in Athens, Greece, March 23, 2020
(photo credit: REUTERS/COSTAS BALTAS)
I’m one of those immunosuppressed people you’ve heard about.
You wouldn’t know it if you saw me, pre-COVID-19. I present as fit, active and healthy, but a carefully tittered cocktail of powerful medications makes that possible. And those meds suppress my immune system.
To stay healthy – to stay alive – during this pandemic, I’ve carefully followed instructions to stay isolated. From my balcony, I judged and cursed the unmasked and those not maintaining social distance, but I was safe.
Until today. Because these meds are powerful, periodic blood tests are required to be certain we’ve got the levels right. The doc insisted, telling me to be the first to arrive when the lab opened at 6:30 a.m. So fear in hand, mask on face, off I went. At 6:10, there was hardly a soul on the streets. All but one were masked.
I arrived at the clinic to find all doors open. Nothing had to be touched, and I was the first. Behind my mask, I breathed a sigh of relief and a prayer of thanks. Promptly at 6:30, I was called in, completed all the tests and was finished and out of the building by 6:45.
Then I found the world slightly different. The streets were not crowded, but there were more people out and most were not masked. Each time one appeared, I stopped in my tracks, aghast, that they would put my life at risk. I moved to the street, cursing from the privacy of my mask. A beggar, mask around his neck, asked me for spare change. I asked him to wear his mask.
I’m home safe now. Theoretically, I won’t have to do this again for three months. But others do, every day. And to those of you who go about maskless: Stop. Please. No one likes wearing a mask. But no one likes getting COVID-19. And your comfort, your coffee, your phone call is not more important than that.