Why I moved to Florida during the pandemic
I moved to Florida in the middle of a pandemic and all I got was COVID-19.
Given their lacking pandemic response, travelling to the U.S. would be a laughable proposition for many Canadians, and an impossible one for even more. The Canada-U.S. border closure has been renewed repeatedly since it was first instated, and is supposed to remain in place until at least Aug. 21. But this closure only applies to non-citizens: Americans living in Canada can still cross for no other reason than they are citizens, provided they quarantine thereafter.
As a dual citizen, when I got the invitation to live with my family in Jacksonville Beach, I found myself with more reasons than most to consider the unthinkable: travelling to, and living in, Florida.
Why risk it? To start, my bank account had me worried. CERB had not yet been extended, and, like many Canadians, I was unemployed and unsure of when I would be able to resume work. That my uncle was in need of labourers in his warehouse seemed like the answer to all my prayers. I could work for a few months and convert my U.S. wages upon my return.
But there weren’t just financial incentives. Like many, three months of isolation had left me restless and missing the people I cared about most. In Florida, I would be closer to my father and my sister, as well as to the considerable web of extended family that I am lucky to see even once a year. Assessing the risks and the opportunities, the palm trees and white sand beaches were enough to tip the scales. I packed all of my linen clothes and flew south.
Coming from Toronto, I’d gotten used to staying inside, wearing a mask, social distancing and everything else we now accept as the new normal. And these measures are working. But arriving in Florida was like watching the first act of a horror movie: you know things are going to go wrong, but you’re still figuring out how, and how badly.
In hindsight, it should have been more apparent. Masks were uncommon, even inside grocery stores, and a frustrating number of those who were wearing them left their noses uncovered. Restaurants and bars, now open for sit-in dining, were crowded. Patrons lining up outside the local ice cream shop were not social distancing. Little League games had resumed, packing benches and dugouts alike. I certainly missed normalcy, and here it seemed like people had found it.
Unfortunately, and perhaps unsurprisingly, normal didn’t last long for me. Roughly a week after I’d left isolation, my sister started displaying cold-like symptoms. She quarantined herself, and my father and I sought out tests. We were lucky to wait two hours before being tested, but we didn’t need to wait for my results. The next day, I woke up feverish.
As is true for many young adults, my symptoms were manageable, but nevertheless unpleasant. My temperature was 101 F, with cold symptoms to match. My head throbbed, my eyes ached, and I couldn’t sleep without painkillers to dull the soreness in my legs. My sister’s case was more severe, but thankfully had little impact on her breathing.
As my cold waned, so did my sense of taste and smell. It was the last and most enduring symptom my sister and I developed. Even though we’ve both tested negative, it has yet to fully return … The optimism I felt upon arrival hasn’t either.
I understand that I would’ve made the same choices under the same circumstances. Still, the irony isn’t lost on me. I came to Florida for work and family, and getting sick has kept me from both. Had I stayed in Toronto, I would be working. I could leave the house. I could live my life. And I can do all of these things in Florida, but only because I was lucky enough to recover.
As daily case counts repeatedly number in the thousands, each new case represents not just another possible death, but an unknowable number of new infections yet to be detected.
While Ontario’s daily case counts are now in the low hundreds, each new case can still mean more infections yet to come. So keep your distance. Wash your hands, and when you wear a mask, please cover your nose.