I feel like I am experiencing life without my body for the first time, and it scares me. In jail, my job was to collect trash, run errands, and scrap copper wire for the county to get a little guard food every night; when I was released I sold my plasma for nearly ten years; I was a dishwasher and a line cook; I worked for a caterer and, while carrying a full hand-truck of kitchen equipment up a small set of steps, got some pretty unfortunate hematomas; now I participate in medical research studies, normally only for MRIs and similar, non evasive tests, but in the past I’ve had plenty done to me.
This has been my norm for years. Unable to get normal jobs and instead taking whatever risky, weird thing I could find instead. The biggest break from this has been my relatively cushy day job at an escape room — a job from which I was laid off last week due to COVID-19.
I have no backup plan from the lock down my state and many others are going through. I do not say this with any anger toward these lock downs. I know they’re for the best and everyone should be taking care of themselves in whatever say the medical community advises. However, everything I’ve ever understood has gone out the window. Every way I’ve learned to survive is gone. The possibility of the escape room closing forever frightens me in a way I have never known, because I have never known hope.
