I sat at my desk at work, taking in the breaking news of the Coronavirus and coming to the conclusion that I would need to meet with my supervisor to discuss my taking some time off as I am of the age to be considered at risk of serious complications or even death should I contract it.
I was already one of the only people wearing a mask on the unit at the psychiatric hospital where I work. Because I cannot take the flu shot, I was required to do so as a preventative measure according to policy. This had been a comfort over the previous few weeks, given the news of the rapidly spreading pandemic.
I have always relied on an inner sense, a kind of intuition of when to get out of precarious situations. So I knew the signal when I felt it, when I heard it loud and clear: Make haste. It is time to hightail it out of here.
So I did.