As we lift our masks, each of us must assess the risks of the new normal we create

To paraphrase T.S. Eliot, the pandemic is ending not with a bang but a whimper. Even the most pro-science, pro-mask, and pro-vaccine crowd is just worn down, emotionally depleted, socially starved, and going out for dinner.

The debate between pro- and anti-vaxxers and maskers is becoming moot as sheer exhaustion takes over. We’ve hit the wall. After two interminable years, many sensible, science-supporting people are letting down their guard, and prioritizing their mental health over their own — and others’ — physical health.

It’s becoming easier to justify risky behavior as the omicron wave recedes, and the lifting of even indoor mask mandates is on the horizon.

But public health experts warn — as they have before — that we should wait a little longer, and not risk fueling a resurgence until the wave recedes more. That is undoubtedly sensible advice.

In the real world, though, more and more unmasked customers already shop with impunity. They know that store clerks won’t object, because they are tired of the trauma of being yelled at and the fear of being threatened, even though their own health is put at risk.

There’s also a growing feeling that some restrictions are simply meaningless. In restaurants, the rule is to wear a mask when you walk in, but you can take it off as soon as you’re seated. Then, after an hour of chatting, eating, laughing and speaking with a server, you’re supposed to put the mask back on as you walk out. Does anyone really think that offers other diners or servers protection? It’s a fig leaf of public health protocol — another message that we don’t really need to be as careful as we’ve been in the past.

Ready or not, we have entered a transitional time of learning to live with endemic COVID.

Fortunately, we have better tools than we did a year ago: vaccination, of course, but also (finally!) available home tests that can tell us whether it’s safe for us to visit an immunocompromised friend. And though the supplies are still small, we have antiviral drugs that will be game-changers. We also have a system for tracking new variants, though we’d rather not think about that.

But even with those new tools, this will be a fraught transition. As a country, we are still seeing over 2,000 deaths each day. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention still lists our state’s transmission rate as high. Our omicron wave came later than it did in the East, and is declining later.

Since the pandemic began, 11,459 people in our state have died from COVID — a far smaller per-capita number than all but four other states, but still awful. In Thurston County, we’ve lost 313 people so far.

So what level of death and danger will we find acceptable? So far our state’s pandemic fatalities are about half the annual number for cancer or heart disease, but about twice the number from car crashes, which killed 600 people last year. How many more COVID deaths are acceptable to us? That’s the brutal question of the moment.

We all feel that we can’t go on living masked up, divided, isolated beyond our endurance, deprived of the vital joy of in-person social lives, and the sense of ease and safety we used to take for granted.

But now, more than ever, we need to think clearly about the choices we make and what new normal we are creating for ourselves and the people around us.

This story was originally published February 20, 2022 at 5:00 AM.