The End of Men

by Christina Sweeney-Baird

I often tell my friends when they half-jokingly ask me if they’re dying, if you still need to pee, you’re fine.

Be wary of that little voice that tries to twist one scary thing into a spiral of despair.

Sometimes being a doctor makes me a worse parent emotionally but a better parent practically, and this is one of those times.

Anthony sits on the sofa next to me, grasping my left hand as I journal. We haven’t discussed it but we spend as much time as possible together. We sit next to each other at dinner, as close as we can physically be. We curl into each other on the sofa. We sleep entwined like otters.

That’s the key thing that’s allowing it to spread so fast. When half of the population is walking around, symptomless, carrying and spreading the virus, you’re in trouble. And we are.

“Second, work means purpose. Even if you don’t want it, or don’t think you want it, it’s a reason to get up in the morning. Work gives you a future even if you can’t see one for yourself right now. Third, lots of jobs are gone.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up. You’re a very optimistic person. You think the glass is half full. I measure the number of millimeters in the glass before I decide what to do with the water.” “Oh, Heida, you’ll let me know how it goes?” “I will let you know how it goes.”

but I said the library was more important. I had to do a campaign but eventually we had over five hundred signatures from people saying the library had to stay open and so my job was deemed to be a “necessary form of work” and I don’t have to do something else in the draft.

“You know how I always said I didn’t understand your instinct for fairness?” She nods, smiling softly. “Well, I still don’t.”

Lol