This article is from the source 'nytimes' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.

You can find the current article at its original source at https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/05/well/family/cleaning-essential-workers-coronavirus.html

The article has changed 28 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.

Version 14 Version 15
When Cleaning Is the Only Option When Cleaning Is the Only Option
(about 1 hour later)
I used to be afraid of cleaning toilets. As a teenager, it was my job to clean the upstairs bathroom while my two younger brothers were outside helping our father mow the lawn, pull weed and trim the bushes. My parents were Portuguese immigrants whose core belief system was rooted in a culture with patriarchal roles and traditional Christian values. I couldn’t take out the trash any more than my brothers could do the dishes.I used to be afraid of cleaning toilets. As a teenager, it was my job to clean the upstairs bathroom while my two younger brothers were outside helping our father mow the lawn, pull weed and trim the bushes. My parents were Portuguese immigrants whose core belief system was rooted in a culture with patriarchal roles and traditional Christian values. I couldn’t take out the trash any more than my brothers could do the dishes.
Every Saturday morning, my mother would hand me a bottle of Clorox bleach and a rag she had made from one of my father’s old work shirts. I’d scrub the double vanity just fine, checking my teeth in the mirror as I wiped it clean. But the toilet disgusted me. There were always splatters of urine underneath the rim, pieces of hair stuck in hard-to-get places between the tank and the bowl. With yellow rubber gloves on up to my elbows, I’d hold my breath and turn my head away from the smell, dunking a brush around the bowl.Every Saturday morning, my mother would hand me a bottle of Clorox bleach and a rag she had made from one of my father’s old work shirts. I’d scrub the double vanity just fine, checking my teeth in the mirror as I wiped it clean. But the toilet disgusted me. There were always splatters of urine underneath the rim, pieces of hair stuck in hard-to-get places between the tank and the bowl. With yellow rubber gloves on up to my elbows, I’d hold my breath and turn my head away from the smell, dunking a brush around the bowl.
But when my father died in a car accident in 2007, cleaning became much more than our family’s Saturday morning routine. My father had been the sole breadwinner of our family for nearly two decades. He didn’t have life insurance, and the flooring business he’d built quickly crumbled without someone to do the labor. Our family was left with nothing. With only a high school diploma, my mother believed herself capable of only one skill: cleaning. Perhaps in cleaning the dirt off mirrors and floors she could wash away her grief, too.But when my father died in a car accident in 2007, cleaning became much more than our family’s Saturday morning routine. My father had been the sole breadwinner of our family for nearly two decades. He didn’t have life insurance, and the flooring business he’d built quickly crumbled without someone to do the labor. Our family was left with nothing. With only a high school diploma, my mother believed herself capable of only one skill: cleaning. Perhaps in cleaning the dirt off mirrors and floors she could wash away her grief, too.
My mother was hired to clean a day care center a few blocks from Harvard Square. Each night at 6 o’clock, she’d load the trunk of her car with those same Clorox bottles she gave me, rags made from my father’s old T-shirts she now cried into. She worked her way through the day care at night, classroom after classroom, cubby after cubby, miniature toilet after miniature toilet, vacuuming, sweeping, mopping, scrubbing. I wanted my grief to stay on my face for the world to see. I had no desire to bleach myself clean. So, when my mother asked me and my two brothers to help her with this new job, at first I said no.My mother was hired to clean a day care center a few blocks from Harvard Square. Each night at 6 o’clock, she’d load the trunk of her car with those same Clorox bottles she gave me, rags made from my father’s old T-shirts she now cried into. She worked her way through the day care at night, classroom after classroom, cubby after cubby, miniature toilet after miniature toilet, vacuuming, sweeping, mopping, scrubbing. I wanted my grief to stay on my face for the world to see. I had no desire to bleach myself clean. So, when my mother asked me and my two brothers to help her with this new job, at first I said no.
“You don’t know the value of a dollar yet,” my mother would say when I’d ask her to abandon the cleaning job for one with a little more dignity. At the time, I was working part-time at our local drugstore while commuting to college full-time. Each day when I came home and saw my mother’s sweat bubbling at the top of her forehead from her own household chores, a dish towel in one hand and a broom in the other, I promised myself a different life, one that wouldn’t involve my children being my greatest accomplishment.“You don’t know the value of a dollar yet,” my mother would say when I’d ask her to abandon the cleaning job for one with a little more dignity. At the time, I was working part-time at our local drugstore while commuting to college full-time. Each day when I came home and saw my mother’s sweat bubbling at the top of her forehead from her own household chores, a dish towel in one hand and a broom in the other, I promised myself a different life, one that wouldn’t involve my children being my greatest accomplishment.
I eventually gave in and helped my mother clean the day care on my days off. But so much of that life felt like a regression. I studied the likes of Jane Austen and Immanuel Kant by day, and by night, I was vacuuming road map rugs, ducking under four-foot castles and scrubbing paint-blotched sinks.I eventually gave in and helped my mother clean the day care on my days off. But so much of that life felt like a regression. I studied the likes of Jane Austen and Immanuel Kant by day, and by night, I was vacuuming road map rugs, ducking under four-foot castles and scrubbing paint-blotched sinks.
By then cleaning had become a gender-neutral family project. My youngest brother refilled the steel paper towel dispensers in every room of the center. I’d hear the whip of a trash bag opening and watch my other brother trudge by, dragging two large black bags behind him. In the beginning, he was too small to lift the heavy bags over his shoulders, but over time, his muscles rippled underneath his shirt as he heaved all the trash bags to the dumpster in one trip.By then cleaning had become a gender-neutral family project. My youngest brother refilled the steel paper towel dispensers in every room of the center. I’d hear the whip of a trash bag opening and watch my other brother trudge by, dragging two large black bags behind him. In the beginning, he was too small to lift the heavy bags over his shoulders, but over time, his muscles rippled underneath his shirt as he heaved all the trash bags to the dumpster in one trip.
My mother once told me, “I was born cleaning toilets. I’m going to die cleaning toilets.” This was on a car ride home after cleaning the day care; I had had a small confrontation with one of the teachers who had stayed late. My mother and I recounted our usual argument — I begged her to quit, and she told me I was being privileged.My mother once told me, “I was born cleaning toilets. I’m going to die cleaning toilets.” This was on a car ride home after cleaning the day care; I had had a small confrontation with one of the teachers who had stayed late. My mother and I recounted our usual argument — I begged her to quit, and she told me I was being privileged.
I’ve come back to this moment several times throughout my life, but none so much as now. My husband and I are fortunate to be able to work from home during quarantine, our salaries intact. We clean for a sense of security — peace of mind. But my mother does not have that luxury. She cleans for financial security. Now, that statement about cleaning toilets until she dies has a new meaning, one all too literal.I’ve come back to this moment several times throughout my life, but none so much as now. My husband and I are fortunate to be able to work from home during quarantine, our salaries intact. We clean for a sense of security — peace of mind. But my mother does not have that luxury. She cleans for financial security. Now, that statement about cleaning toilets until she dies has a new meaning, one all too literal.
My mother is currently working as a cleaner at a self-storage facility, where there is usually only a maintenance man, and an electrical supply company, where she sometimes comes into contact with several people at the warehouse.My mother is currently working as a cleaner at a self-storage facility, where there is usually only a maintenance man, and an electrical supply company, where she sometimes comes into contact with several people at the warehouse.
Updated June 30, 2020
Common symptoms include fever, a dry cough, fatigue and difficulty breathing or shortness of breath. Some of these symptoms overlap with those of the flu, making detection difficult, but runny noses and stuffy sinuses are less common. The C.D.C. has also added chills, muscle pain, sore throat, headache and a new loss of the sense of taste or smell as symptoms to look out for. Most people fall ill five to seven days after exposure, but symptoms may appear in as few as two days or as many as 14 days.
Scientists around the country have tried to identify everyday materials that do a good job of filtering microscopic particles. In recent tests, HEPA furnace filters scored high, as did vacuum cleaner bags, fabric similar to flannel pajamas and those of 600-count pillowcases. Other materials tested included layered coffee filters and scarves and bandannas. These scored lower, but still captured a small percentage of particles.
A commentary published this month on the website of the British Journal of Sports Medicine points out that covering your face during exercise “comes with issues of potential breathing restriction and discomfort” and requires “balancing benefits versus possible adverse events.” Masks do alter exercise, says Cedric X. Bryant, the president and chief science officer of the American Council on Exercise, a nonprofit organization that funds exercise research and certifies fitness professionals. “In my personal experience,” he says, “heart rates are higher at the same relative intensity when you wear a mask.” Some people also could experience lightheadedness during familiar workouts while masked, says Len Kravitz, a professor of exercise science at the University of New Mexico.
The steroid, dexamethasone, is the first treatment shown to reduce mortality in severely ill patients, according to scientists in Britain. The drug appears to reduce inflammation caused by the immune system, protecting the tissues. In the study, dexamethasone reduced deaths of patients on ventilators by one-third, and deaths of patients on oxygen by one-fifth.
The coronavirus emergency relief package gives many American workers paid leave if they need to take time off because of the virus. It gives qualified workers two weeks of paid sick leave if they are ill, quarantined or seeking diagnosis or preventive care for coronavirus, or if they are caring for sick family members. It gives 12 weeks of paid leave to people caring for children whose schools are closed or whose child care provider is unavailable because of the coronavirus. It is the first time the United States has had widespread federally mandated paid leave, and includes people who don’t typically get such benefits, like part-time and gig economy workers. But the measure excludes at least half of private-sector workers, including those at the country’s largest employers, and gives small employers significant leeway to deny leave.
So far, the evidence seems to show it does. A widely cited paper published in April suggests that people are most infectious about two days before the onset of coronavirus symptoms and estimated that 44 percent of new infections were a result of transmission from people who were not yet showing symptoms. Recently, a top expert at the World Health Organization stated that transmission of the coronavirus by people who did not have symptoms was “very rare,” but she later walked back that statement.
Touching contaminated objects and then infecting ourselves with the germs is not typically how the virus spreads. But it can happen. A number of studies of flu, rhinovirus, coronavirus and other microbes have shown that respiratory illnesses, including the new coronavirus, can spread by touching contaminated surfaces, particularly in places like day care centers, offices and hospitals. But a long chain of events has to happen for the disease to spread that way. The best way to protect yourself from coronavirus — whether it’s surface transmission or close human contact — is still social distancing, washing your hands, not touching your face and wearing masks.
A study by European scientists is the first to document a strong statistical link between genetic variations and Covid-19, the illness caused by the coronavirus. Having Type A blood was linked to a 50 percent increase in the likelihood that a patient would need to get oxygen or to go on a ventilator, according to the new study.
The unemployment rate fell to 13.3 percent in May, the Labor Department said on June 5, an unexpected improvement in the nation’s job market as hiring rebounded faster than economists expected. Economists had forecast the unemployment rate to increase to as much as 20 percent, after it hit 14.7 percent in April, which was the highest since the government began keeping official statistics after World War II. But the unemployment rate dipped instead, with employers adding 2.5 million jobs, after more than 20 million jobs were lost in April.
If air travel is unavoidable, there are some steps you can take to protect yourself. Most important: Wash your hands often, and stop touching your face. If possible, choose a window seat. A study from Emory University found that during flu season, the safest place to sit on a plane is by a window, as people sitting in window seats had less contact with potentially sick people. Disinfect hard surfaces. When you get to your seat and your hands are clean, use disinfecting wipes to clean the hard surfaces at your seat like the head and arm rest, the seatbelt buckle, the remote, screen, seat back pocket and the tray table. If the seat is hard and nonporous or leather or pleather, you can wipe that down, too. (Using wipes on upholstered seats could lead to a wet seat and spreading of germs rather than killing them.)
If you’ve been exposed to the coronavirus or think you have, and have a fever or symptoms like a cough or difficulty breathing, call a doctor. They should give you advice on whether you should be tested, how to get tested, and how to seek medical treatment without potentially infecting or exposing others.
Her job is perhaps less dangerous than if she were cleaning a hospital or nursing home, but with an uncle at home undergoing chemotherapy for pancreatic cancer, I worry that the contact she has in her job is putting not only her own life at risk, but the lives of those within her household as well.Her job is perhaps less dangerous than if she were cleaning a hospital or nursing home, but with an uncle at home undergoing chemotherapy for pancreatic cancer, I worry that the contact she has in her job is putting not only her own life at risk, but the lives of those within her household as well.
I worry for her as I worry for all the other essential workers. I see my mother’s face in the eyes of friends who are doctors and nurses, a red indentation over the ridge of their noses after hours of wearing an N95 mask. I see my mother’s eyes in the eyes of my students who are now behind a Plexiglass partition instead of in my classroom, beeping my groceries along and handing me my receipt with trembling fingers. I worry for anyone who has been deemed essential, but who has always been thought of as less than.I worry for her as I worry for all the other essential workers. I see my mother’s face in the eyes of friends who are doctors and nurses, a red indentation over the ridge of their noses after hours of wearing an N95 mask. I see my mother’s eyes in the eyes of my students who are now behind a Plexiglass partition instead of in my classroom, beeping my groceries along and handing me my receipt with trembling fingers. I worry for anyone who has been deemed essential, but who has always been thought of as less than.
My mother used to cry for my late father into her overused rags, the skin of her hands dry and cracked with bleach. Today she cries for different reasons. I do, too. For many years, I tried to ignore my father’s death, believing our lives could carry on in the same ways they always had. Now, I know differently. Just as his death changed everything for my family, Covid-19 has disrupted every facet of life in every corner of the world and there is no going back. Our goal is much the same as my mother’s was 13 years ago: To survive.My mother used to cry for my late father into her overused rags, the skin of her hands dry and cracked with bleach. Today she cries for different reasons. I do, too. For many years, I tried to ignore my father’s death, believing our lives could carry on in the same ways they always had. Now, I know differently. Just as his death changed everything for my family, Covid-19 has disrupted every facet of life in every corner of the world and there is no going back. Our goal is much the same as my mother’s was 13 years ago: To survive.
Sarah Chaves is a writer who lives in Boston and São Jorge, Azores. Follow her on Instagram @sarita_chaves.Sarah Chaves is a writer who lives in Boston and São Jorge, Azores. Follow her on Instagram @sarita_chaves.