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The Unbearable Stillness of COVID Grief

The Unbearable Stillness of COVID Grief

The coronavirus pandemic will leave lasting emotional scars.

According to my mother, there are two unique forms of grief that everyone touched by war understands. There’s the grief associated with the loss of human life—through bombings and brutal combat, and through the disease that runs rampant when health care and all other social services are halted. Then there’s the grief associated with the loss of a life as we once knew it: loss of country, loss of employment, loss of identity as a “prewar person,” and the subsequent need to start over. The two run along together like two dark snakes intertwined.

When my mother and father moved to the United Kingdom from Sri Lanka, amid a civil war that would drag on for 26 years, they didn’t readily display their grief. My siblings were born into the only reality we would ever know: visiting ducks at the local park, swinging on our neighbors’ swing set, and blowing out candles at birthday parties that were evidence of both assimilation and normalcy. Yet my parents’ grief would peek through at moments. The first time I ever saw my mother sob was the day she received a phone call with news that my uncle back home had lost his foot in a land-mine explosion. Years after we had moved to Canada, she learned that a famous library holding thousands of historical texts in her native Jaffna had been burned to the ground by the army. Her silent tears and the way she stared off into space, I realized then, were two more dialects of grief.

That kind of sorrow is unfamiliar to many people who live in peaceful places. Yet COVID-19 will leave behind a complicated form of grief that will linger—potentially for many years after the immediate crisis has abated. Thousands of bodies have piled up in Italy, during a period when doctors wrestled with horrific ethical quandaries around rationing care. Now, in parts of the United States, refrigerated trucks have been deployed for use as makeshift morgues. In New York, a mass grave is being built, and cremations are happening all day long. Patients are dying alone, and much like during the Ebola crisis in West Africa, fears of contagion have interfered with families’ ability to mourn.

As of yesterday afternoon, more than 20,000 Americans had died of the new coronavirus. The growth in the number of cases, fortunately, appears to be slowing. Still, even relatively optimistic projections indicate that many more people will succumb in coming weeks; even some who recover will still be at risk of long-term health complications.

All of this damage is occurring while people are still dying from other causes, too—and when grieving people are being discouraged from even going outside, much less seeking solace from their loved ones. Making matters worse, the current crisis has put enormous stress on the healing professions that, in normal times, help families deal with loss and bereavement. Our society is ill-prepared for the kind of grief the coronavirus is visiting upon so many people during so short a span.

Research on grief after large-scale casualties is scant, but the literature suggests that suffering personal losses can be particularly harmful when experienced in times of broader social stress. A 2015 study found that children who lost a loved one during a mass-trauma event such as a natural disaster, a terrorist attack, or a war are likely to suffer long-term psychological trouble. Studies of service members and veterans who served during 9/11 found a high prevalence of what is sometimes called complicated grief—a type of bereavement that is unusually severe and long-lasting. These service members and veterans showed worse symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and had a higher number of lifetime suicide attempts.

A study of survivors of the Rwandan genocide found that what the researcher called “unprocessed mourning”—in part the result of the halting of traditional mourning rituals during the war—contributed to lingering mental-health woes. Two years after the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, chronic grief was found in almost half the survivors, and was strongly associated with losing a spouse or being female. And a systematic review of Ebola survivors found high levels of psychological distress, including prolonged grief, which was compounded by the stigma placed both on survivors and their families as they attempted to return to work.

The coronavirus pandemic differs from those catastrophes in various ways. But it brings stressors of its own. Especially for those worried about vulnerable elders, it brings a level of anticipatory grief, the form that appears when the death of a loved one appears inevitable. It also comes amid a sudden economic crisis and skyrocketing unemployment; the disconnection of people from their families, friends, and their usual routines; and the recognition that some of those routines will be permanently disrupted.

In her 1939 short story Pale Horse, Pale Rider, the writer Katherine Anne Porter describes the protagonist, Miranda, as she falls in love with a soldier named Adam while also falling ill with the 1918 influenza. Amid their fear of the disease, the pair also grieve their old way of life. “All the theatres and nearly all the shops and restaurants are closed,” Adam laments, “and the streets have been full of funerals all day and ambulances all night.” Only when Miranda recovers herself can she fully appreciate the world she and her lover have lost. And when she learns, by letter, that her lover has died from the disease, she descends into the darker depths of prolonged grief.

“At once he was there beside her, invisible but urgently present, a ghost more alive than she was, the last intolerable cheat of her heart; for knowing it was false she still clung to the lie, the unpardonable lie of her bitter desire.”

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders defines prolonged grief disorder as grief symptoms persisting for six months or longer after a loss, along with separation distress, impaired social or occupational functioning, and the presence of symptoms such as confusion, shock, bitterness, and difficulty moving forward with life. As the public sits in anxiety and in isolation, policy makers seeking to cope with the current crisis must also begin to plan for the demands on mental-health services, specifically for grief and bereavement, in the near term and beyond.

As a physician who is also the child of two physicians, I worry in particular about the grief experienced by the health-care providers who are making good on their ethical duty to serve those suffering from the coronavirus. After the 2004 tsunami, prolonged grief disorder was found in one in 10 hospital workers surveyed. In the current crisis, medical providers—including my mother, an anesthesiologist who performs intubations—are at personal risk. Even those who survive COVID-19 or do not contract it in the first place may lose valued friends and colleagues, amid the deaths of other health-care workers who have had to work without adequate protective gear.

In the hospital, doctors and patients alike have reasons to grieve. Doctors grieve the loss of a patient who has died. Patients, once a disease is diagnosed, grieve the loss of their health. Medical trainees grieve their former idealistic self as they become inured to a system that, ironically, often places little value on their own well-being.

Before the coronavirus, the ethos of humanism—of listening closely to patients’ concerns and fears and tending to their needs—had never been stronger in the medical profession. The pandemic returns doctors to a time when compartmentalizing a patient’s suffering—and one’s own—is an emotional survival tool. “We’re asked to be as dispassionate as the disease itself,” Daniel Lakoff, an emergency-room doctor in New York City, recently told me. “We don’t touch the patient in many cases, we use telemedicine, we give oxygen, and we watch and wait. And we often feel powerless.”

Claire Bidwell Smith, a counselor in Charleston, South Carolina, who has written three books on grief, told me that these recent weeks have been the busiest of her decade-long career. (She offers her services online.) She raises the possibility that grief may play out differently during this pandemic from how most people typically experience it. Usually grief feels very personal, Smith says, because the rest of the world proceeds normally while the bereaved feels numb and alone. That dynamic may change because much of the world has now ground to a halt. Grief may be delayed, she said, but a shared catharsis may lie ahead. “I think there will be a massive collective mourning when we’ve emerged from this, for us as a culture,” Smith said. “While what’s happening is heartbreaking, and we haven’t been able to ritualize or memorialize. We will come back to this.”

When I was growing up, another way in which grief visited our home was when my parents’ friends and extended family from Sri Lanka would stop by and reminisce. They would briefly recall the war but also use it as a frame in which to tell more uplifting stories of laughter and overcoming. Grief, when these adults experienced it together, became a connecting agent, joining the broken pieces into a more harmonious common mosaic.

The scars always remain. At the end of Pale Horse, Pale Rider, months of hardship give way to a future that is both brighter and tinged with melancholy. “No more war, no more plague,” she writes, “only the dazed silence that follows the ceasing of the heavy guns; noiseless houses with the shades drawn, empty streets, the dead cold light of tomorrow. Now there would be time for everything.”

**Originally published in The Atlantic**

Us, Interrupted: What Sophia Bush Is Learning About Self-Care Right Now

Us, Interrupted: What Sophia Bush Is Learning About Self-Care Right Now

Us, Interrupted is a series that focuses on public figures as well as professionals on the front lines of the COVID-19 global pandemic. During this unprecedented crisis, we hope these stories of vulnerability and resilience will help us move forward, stronger together.

Sophia Bush is an American actress, activist, and entrepreneur. She is a member of the Directors Guild of America and has starred in various independent projects, shows, and movies such as John Tucker Must Die, Incredibles 2, One Tree Hill, Dick Wolf’s Chicago PD, and This is Us and has joined the cast of the upcoming show Love, Victor. Bush also co-founded and sits on the board for the public awareness campaign “I am a voter,” which promotes awareness of registration tools and encourages all to use their resources to participate in the voting process. Most recently, Bush launched a podcast, Work in Progress, which features frank conversations with people who inspire her about how they’ve gotten to where they are.

We spoke to Bush about how her normally busy life has been changed by the impact of COVID-19 and why she’s learning to not expect too much from herself while staying home.

1. What was your life like before we learned about COVID-19, in terms of your self-care and maintaining a sense of well-being?

I’ve always struggled with routine since on set there is no such thing. Some days I have a 4:15 a.m. call time, and some days I go to work at 6 p.m. and film until the next day at 8 a.m. So I think I’ve always been enamored with people’s routines and looked at them with total fascination. In recent years, I’ve really tried to examine how to create routine.

Read more at MindBodyGreen.

Us, Interrupted: Working On the Front Lines Of COVID-19 As A Hospital Pediatrician & Medical Ethicist

Us, Interrupted: Working On the Front Lines Of COVID-19 As A Hospital Pediatrician & Medical Ethicist

Us, Interrupted is a series that focuses on public figures as well as professionals on the front lines of the COVID-19 global pandemic. During this unprecedented crisis, we hope these stories of vulnerability and resilience will help us move forward, stronger together.

Rachel Pearson, M.D., Ph.D., is a hospital pediatrician and assistant professor of medical humanities in San Antonio, Texas. Through the Center for Medical Humanities and Ethics, she runs the website known as “Pan Pals,” which uses the humanities and allied disciplines to help preserve compassion, justice, and humanitarian values through and beyond the pandemic.

When we spoke to Pearson, she explained the way that her life as a doctor, a medical ethicist, and a newly expectant mother has been affected by the COVID-19 outbreak:

1. What was your life like before we learned about COVID-19, in terms of your self-care and maintaining a sense of well-being in and out of the hospital?
I was settling into a new job in a new city, and I had just found out that I was pregnant for the first time. I had made some friends, and one of my most important ways of caring for myself was going for walks in the evenings with a girlfriend. I would meet my friend Christy halfway between our houses, and we’d walk around the neighborhood with her two dogs.

In the hospital, one of the big joys of my new job was finding that I had lots of time to spend with my patients and their families, as well as with my residents. I could go from room to room in the afternoons and just sit down and check in with worried parents and sick kids. The human connection that comes from that time, as well as the knowledge that I was getting to practice medicine in a way I believe in, gave me a lot of peace and brought a lot of meaning into my life. I also knew that, with my own kid on the way, I would soon have a reason to want to leave the hospital as soon as possible—so, I was really relishing that deep time with my patients and families.

Read more on MindBodyGreen.

Us, Interrupted: How I’m Shifting My Mindset Right Now, From The Founder Of TOMS

Us, Interrupted: How I’m Shifting My Mindset Right Now, From The Founder Of TOMS

Us, Interrupted is a series that focuses on public figures as well as professionals on the front lines of the COVID-19 global pandemic. During this unprecedented crisis, we hope these stories of vulnerability and resilience will help us move forward, stronger together.

Blake Mycoskie is an entrepreneur, author, and philanthropist and the founder and chief shoe giver of TOMS. Since beginning with shoes, the brand has expanded to eyewear and a coffee roasting company that partners with other organizations that provide safe water in seven counties. His most recent project, Madefor, launched recently and aims to improve our brains and bodies with neuroscience, psychology, and physiology.

Here, mindbodygreen spoke to Mycoskie about transitioning to life during COVID-19 as an individual and as a business leader, and how he’s taking control of his experience and finding the good that he can:

1. What was your life like before we learned about COVID-19, in terms of your self-care and maintaining a sense of well-being?

How I start my day plays a big role in how I experience life. My morning routine begins around 5:30 a.m. and consists of a mix of contemplation, prayer, basic body movements, and a tea ceremony. There isn’t anything magical about my 30-minute routine, but I find there is magic in an intentional start to the day. It helps me be more present and leads to better decisions. Each day, I try to find the right mix of quality time with my children and friends, outdoor physical activities like surfing or climbing, and meaningful work. I’m at my best if I invest in these three areas on a daily basis.

Read more on MindBodyGreen.

Us, Interrupted: How Television Host Tommy DiDario Is Adapting His Regimen To COVID-19

Us, Interrupted: How Television Host Tommy DiDario Is Adapting His Regimen To COVID-19

Us, Interrupted is a series that focuses on public figures as well as professionals on the front lines of the COVID-19 global pandemic. During this unprecedented crisis, we hope these stories of vulnerability and resilience will help us move forward, stronger together.

Tommy Didario is a television host and on-air lifestyle expert who has appeared on The Rachael Ray Show, The Today Show, and Entertainment Tonight. He covers everything from celebrity interviews to human interest stories to lifestyle topics in the fashion, trends, grooming, travel, health, fitness, and wellness worlds.

We spoke to Didario about how his formerly regimented lifestyle has been changed by the COVID-19 outbreak and how he’s doing his part to slow its spread.

1. What was your life like before we learned about COVID-19, in terms of your self-care and maintaining a sense of well-being?

I was very regimented. I get up at 5:30 a.m. every day, and I do a 20-minute yoga session. Then I’d head to the gym for a workout and come back to have breakfast before getting to work. With my work, which is in the entertainment/lifestyle business, I never know what the day is going to look like, so getting my core “me” time in early on is key. And living in New York City, I crave my outdoor time, so I’d make a point to walk to any meetings that might be a 20-minute or less walk. I also enjoyed writing for fun or work—it was a creative outlet for me—and reading. Eating healthfully with a balanced diet was also important.

Read more in MindBodyGreen.

Us, Interrupted: How This Internist Is Responding To The Impact Of COVID-19

Us, Interrupted: How This Internist Is Responding To The Impact Of COVID-19

Us, Interrupted is a series that focuses on public figures as well as professionals on the front lines of the COVID-19 global pandemic. During this unprecedented crisis, we hope these stories of vulnerability and resilience will help us move forward, stronger together.

Mark Shapiro, M.D., is an internist and the associate medical director for hospital services with St. Joseph Health Medical Group in Sonoma County, California. He is also the creator and host of the Explore the Space podcast, which considers the relationship between health care and society.

We spoke with Shapiro about working in the medical field during the COVID-19 outbreak and how it’s affected his work and personal life.

1. What was your life like before we learned about COVID-19, in terms of your self-care and maintaining a sense of well-being in and out of the hospital?

I was in a pretty good place balancing family life, my clinical and leadership work, Explore the Space podcast, and my own self-care. Keeping an exercise routine, good nutrition, reasonable sleep, and having fun were things I was feeling more and more comfortable with.

Read more in MindBodyGreen.

If America was a Patient

If America was a Patient

Let’s get clear on what the problems really are, then divide and conquer.

Recently I recalled one of the most crucial things I learned in medical school: the power of the “problem list.” Each patient came to us with a diagnosis, which was the reason for hospital admission. But as our attending made clear: the easiest and most efficient way to address the condition was to separate it into its component parts. It no longer becomes “let’s manage this patient with dementia,” it becomes “let’s sort out what the smaller problems are that make up the bigger challenge of treating this dementia.” We then understand how each smaller problem feeds into the larger one, which ultimately leads to appropriately managing the patient’s disease.
Tackling COVID-19 in America is an overwhelming and gargantuan task with no clear pathway, with everything so far pointing to failure. Much like how psychologists recommend “chunking” for learning, parsing out a big problem into a smaller set of problems helps us organize our thoughts, delegate tasks appropriately, all while making sure we’re not overlooking anything. It also helps us create contingencies and monitor progress.

If America was a patient, this would be her problem list and items to delegate:

1. Unclear case definition and endpoints
Infectious disease experts must help us more clearly define what a COVID-19 case looks like: the virus attacks the respiratory system, but other systems, like the gastrointestinal system, may also be affected. It also appears that the inflammatory response (how the body responds to the virus) as opposed to the virus itself, may be the primary cause of mortality, and this dictates treatment. Given that the tests available are imperfect, a negative test, in the presence of symptoms, should be treated as a presumptive case. Once a case definition is established as universal, it should further be stratified as mild, moderate and severe, with objective criteria defining each. Our metrics of response success must also be determined: COVID-19 is an unprecedented pandemic that is positioned to barrel through the U.S. and kill anywhere from 100,000 to 1 million people. Is a successful response one that cuts the most conservative projections by half? And are we more concerned about minimizing infections (of which most will be mild) or is the bigger priority to minimize the number of deaths?

2. Confusing public health messaging
Clear public health messaging is a challenge especially during times of uncertainty. Currently the messaging on whether transmission can occur through the air remains inconsistent between the World Health Organization, Centers for Disease Control, the White House, and state governments. This contributes to the spread of the “uncertainty virus” and mistrust, not unlike in a hospital when multiple teams are involved where medical errors are often secondary to communication issues, and was especially so with the case of masks. Groups like Choosing Wisely have disseminated some evidence-informed, best practices but clear public health messaging needs to be centralized. The White House should delegate one expert, ideally Dr. Anthony Fauci, to disseminate up-to-date public health information clearly and succinctly while also communicating uncertainties. Editors of major media in print and online challenged with this crisis will also play a key role in presenting consistent and reliable public health messaging. For months experts as well as the media underestimated the threat of COVID-19, and while contrarian views can help dissuade groupthink and tunnel vision, they risk undermining public health best practices and expert consensus. It is not a black swan. Rather, it was a dark horse: an underdog, one we were too blinded to see coming. We’ve seen dark horses before.

3. Insufficient testing
We need to clarify what we mean by “ramp up testing.” Tests should be two-fold: of secretions for the presence of the virus (presence/absence, and quantitative viral load data if possible) through a swab of the oral cavity and serologic testing for protective antibodies (which dictates prior infection, and likely protection) ideally with a fingerprick test. At this stage home-based testing might make the most sense, and it’s crucial to test a number of candidates against the gold-standard hospital-based test. An ideal test kit might have: a link to an online symptom checker, the swab and fingerprick test, and a self-addressed return envelope to mail back the test to a state lab. Once a kit (which would be priced at $0 to the public) is created, a partnership with Amazon (similar to what was struck in Canada) might make the most sense, given their warehousing and shipping capabilities, but we must ensure their delivery workers are provided with protective gear. Additional tests should be disseminated to homeless shelters. The tests won’t reach everyone, but capturing at least 75% of the population should be enough. As a metric we must set a benchmark for the number of Americans we want tested by April 30th.

4. No clear clinical pathway after a positive test
In China, positives were quarantined away from home. Had we organized early enough we could have used empty hotels for this purpose. Instead we should model symptom monitoring recommendations after asthma action plans, which are based on the traffic-light method. An expert committee — possibly from the American Academy of Emergency Medicine — could create a similar system (for instance, including symptoms like fever for a specific number of days, shortness of breath, and so on) so that those with a positive test know when to go to the hospital. We have enough data now, based on thousands of cases, to create this system.

5. Challenges with logistics, manufacturing, and procurement
While exciting, searching for a vaccine is not the biggest issue right now. Instead, it’s logistics, manufacturing and procurement, and this requires organized and thoughtful public-private partnerships. To be clear, the Defence Protection Act must be formally implemented with clear directions for the manufacturing of ventilators (ideally portable bedside ventilators as these would work better in make-shift hospitals without ready access to outlets), n95 masks, face shields, and gowns for healthcare workers. But currently this is highly decentralized which contributes to chaos: so formally involving the Defence Logistics Agency will also be key. Delegating these tasks to a few major companies who have the ability to manufacturer and ship their products quickly is crucial. We must also set clear pricing: a Forbes investigation recently found the inability to effectively negotiate contributed to the undersupply. Companies like Apple have people skilled at negotiation and procurement, and could offer their most skilled specialists to assist in ensuring we get supplies we need for the next 2–3 months, which appears now to be a focus. Outside the box solutions such as mask sterilizing systems should also be scaled up as well.

6. Lack of a universal policy, treatment, and end-of-life algorithms
We don’t have expert consensus on institutional infection control policy, nor treatment, discharge, or end-of-life best practices. As such, we should consider rapidly adopting a universal infection control policy modelled on Partners Healthcare and have an expert team, perhaps from the Society of Critical Care Medicine use the currently available evidence to create an algorithm for care, stratified by mild, moderate and severe. While imperfect, it will provided a road map that can be refined as we learn more, and would replace the informal crowdsourcing of best practices on social media. An ideal algorithm should dictate the parameters for oxygen, what starter therapies (medications and fluids) might help, criteria for mechanical ventilation (and settings), when to provide experimental treatments (e.g. chloroquine and remdesivir) for compassionate or trial us, and when to discuss comfort care. While abiding by infection control practices, everything possible must be done to allow family members to be present with their dying loved ones — walkie talkies goodbyes aren’t enough. Eack patient that enters the hospital with COVID should have an advanced directive regardless of how severe they are on admission. Given that some deaths have occurred after discharge, every COVID patient released from hospital must have a clear set of criteria on what to do at home, and when to return.

7. Unprotected healthcare workers & whistleblowers
Though doctors may be enlisted, many are struggling with their duty to serve, preparing their wills, and protesting seemingly to deaf ears for personal protective equipment (PPE). Thousands of healthcare workers around the world have died, including at least two resident doctors. The death of New York City-based Dr Frank Gabrin, himself a proponent for physician wellness, need not be in vain. We must have PPE for each healthcare provider, replaced at least once a shift, while also allowing for sufficient recovery time between shifts (in New York, having doctors and nurses serve from around the country helps with this). Punishing whistleblowers was seen first in China and but is creeping up in the U.S among healthcare workers and the military — this reprisal demonstrates a lack of psychological safety which will only worsen outcomes. Everything must be done to protect those that speak up.

8. Scattered research and no centralized database.
While it’s promising to see so much research on therapeutics happening all over the world — snippets shared over social media are mostly of case reports and small trials. We must create a central research database of existing studies — Stanford has a good starting model. Many research questions still remain. We could also leverage electronic medical record systems to help central database of diagnoses, clinical course, and outcomes.

9. Exacerbations of existing inequities
As with any patient, the social history cannot be forgotten. We need to get clear on what Americans with chronic health conditions should do if they can’t get care as they are at risk for dying due to lack of care during this crisis. We must also make every effort to protect and serve the most vulnerable who are at higher risk of poor outcomes — African Americans, those in the South, as well as the homeless and the undocumented (who may often be ‘essential’). Indeed as Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez tweeted last week, “inequality is a comorbidity.” It will be a stain on this nation if this crisis further perpetuates existing inequities. Ensuring healthcare during this time is accessible and universal, as recently underscored by the WHO is key, and could be inspired by other promising social experiments.

10. No clear plan for the “echo pandemic” of mental illness and social unrest
We are beginning to see an echo pandemic of mental illness and we may also see a rise in social unrest the longer we stay in lockdown. We must plan for both of these. To start, mental health experts should, where possible, offer services virtually. City planners must prepare for a possible surge in domestic violence, looting, and rioting. Notably, given the policy around face coverings, many perpetrators of public crimes may be difficult to identify.
This is America’s problem list; it is by no means comprehensive but it might be a starting point to help a strong leader delegate tasks. We can benefit from post-mortems from SARS and study the pandemic response now. As economist Daniel Kahneman popularized, we should also consider creating a premortem — anticipating how our response will fail helps us prioritize an action plan. The first step in any situation and assessment is realizing that one big problem is really a set of smaller problems and progress involves working diligently to address each component part. The intent is not to oversimplify but to make the task of battling COVID-19 more manageable while minimizing decision fatigue and maximizing public trust.

The time is now to divide and conquer. COVID-19 is not a drill. It’s a bitter pill.

**Originally published on Medium [visit for hyperlinks/citations]**

Us, Interrupted: How Uché Blackstock, MD, Is Taking Care Of Herself While Caring For Others

Us, Interrupted: How Uché Blackstock, MD, Is Taking Care Of Herself While Caring For Others

Us, Interrupted is a series that focuses on public figures as well as professionals on the front lines of the COVID-19 global pandemic. During this unprecedented crisis, we hope these stories of vulnerability and resilience will help us move forward, stronger together.

Uché Blackstock, M.D., is busy. She is the mother of two small children, the founder and CEO of Advancing Health Equity, and an emergency medicine physician working on the front lines of the COVID-19 pandemic in New York City.

We spoke to Blackstock about a life working in medicine during the pandemic, and how she’s balancing caring for herself, her children, and her patients during these unprecedented times.

What was your life like before we learned about COVID-19, in terms of your self-care and maintaining a sense of well-being in and out of the hospital?

To be honest, it’s hard to remember what life was like before the COVID-19 pandemic hit NYC. I’ve been immersed in the crisis for the last two weeks caring for patients in urgent care clinics in central Brooklyn. As a parent, practicing physician, and the CEO of my own consulting firm, I’ll admit that finding the time for self-care has been quite challenging for me. I try to eat healthy and to maintain a healthy exercise schedule. Before COVID19, I took up journaling, especially in the evenings to decompress before I fell asleep. I also consider self-care to be maintaining my connections with my loved ones and friends, so I try to be intentional about finding meaningful time to spend with them.

Read more in MindBodyGreen.

Us, Interrupted: How Writer Charles Yu Is Adapting To COVID-19 With His Family

Us, Interrupted: How Writer Charles Yu Is Adapting To COVID-19 With His Family

Us, Interrupted is a series that focuses on public figures as well as professionals on the front lines of the COVID-19 global pandemic. During this unprecedented crisis, we hope these stories of vulnerability and resilience will help us move forward, stronger together.

Charles Yu is a writer of fiction and nonfiction whose writing has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, including Slate, Esquire, Wired, and New York Times Style Magazine. He has also written for television, including HBO’s Westworld. Yu’s newest book, Interior Chinatown, was released in February 2020. His first book, How To Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe, was named a New York Times Notable Book and listed as one of the best books of 2010 by Time magazine.

Here, Yu shares with us how he and his family are adapting to life during COVID-19: with exercise, getting outside, and maintaining connection with loved ones online, as well as the challenges of self-care during this difficult time:

1. What was your life like before we learned about COVID-19, in terms of your self-care and maintaining a sense of well-being?
It actually wasn’t that different from my life now. Since 2014, I’ve been writing full-time (after having been a lawyer for many years), and although I have worked in a number of TV writers’ rooms (for the past couple of years, I have been lucky enough to be writing scripts in development), I have been working from home.

My day-to-day routine is get up, walk my dog, pour coffee, and write. I tried to exercise at least three times a week, either a class or a 3- to 4-mile walk. My wife ordered some home exercise stuff (resistance bands and floor sliders), so we can try to get workouts in while isolated at home.

Read more in MindBodyGreen.

Us, Interrupted: How Soledad O’Brien Prioritizes Well-Being Amid COVID-19

Us, Interrupted: How Soledad O’Brien Prioritizes Well-Being Amid COVID-19

Us, Interrupted is a series that focuses on public figures as well as professionals on the front lines of the COVID-19 global pandemic. During this unprecedented crisis, we hope these stories of vulnerability and resilience will help us move forward, stronger together.

Soledad O’Brien is a powerhouse. As the CEO of Starfish Media Group, host of the show Matter of Fact, and an award-winning broadcast journalist, she is used to busy days. She also started the PowHERful Foundation with her husband, supporting women in their journey to higher education.

Here, she shares with us how she and her family are adapting to life during COVID-19: with schedules, long walks, and how it has affected her physical and emotional well-being.

What was your life like before we learned about COVID-19, in terms of your self-care & maintaining a sense of well-being?
I don’t think I was very good at self-care. I travel a lot for work, and it’s easy to get exhausted. I tried my best to get six to eight hours of sleep and avoid red-eye flights as much as possible. The main thing was eating well and trying to get enough sleep.

In terms of other aspects of my well-being, a big part of it for me was needing to feel “useful,” as in getting stuff done. I’m a box checker, and I’d feel good knowing if I got everything on my list done. I never found much relaxation in cooking, but I’d volunteer to clean up, for instance; that would help me feel like I was being useful.

Read more in MindBodyGreen.