- How are people around you responding?
- How has this crisis impacted you and your family?
- What has been the most difficult thing for you personally about this crisis?
- What are your biggest concerns right now?
- What brings you joy or comfort right now?
- What changes have you personally experienced (physically, mentally, emotionally or psychologically) since this crisis began?
Stories from our community
The Little Falls Historical Society has developed this special page on its website to serve as a repository for written work, artwork, photographs and other materials related to the COVID-19 pandemic.
The goal of this project is to create a collective body of work that will serve as a historic record of how individuals, families, government, schools, businesses and other organizations are dealing with disruptions in their daily routines due to COVID-19. Future generations will be able to better understand how our community responded to this crisis.
You may submit any creative work electronically that reflects how you, your family, and friends have been forced to make changes in your everyday lives. Look inward for ideas.
You can submit written work such as short essays, journal-like entries, and poems. You can also submit artwork and photographs.
The submissions we publish will
- Be polite.
- Paint a real picture of daily life in Little Falls.
- Be heartfelt expressions of what it means to live in Little Falls today.
- Express personal feelings and experiences. Please do not write about what others are saying or doing. We want to hear your story.
- Not contain political statements. No finger pointing or assigning blame. Let history assign blame.
- Please do not submit anything about yourself or others that is too personal for others to read or see.
What is your story?
Click on the + to expand and read through stories.
Artist during the pandemic
A Recent Stay in the Hospital Under the Guise of Covid
I recently entered the hospital with a fever of 104 degrees. I was immediately treated as though I had Covid 19. My children could not come in with me. I was semi-conscious. The Dr. ordered Covid and flu tests, x-rays of my chest and left leg, (which I had cut on glass), bloodwork and an EKG. I had a tetanus shot, was receiving iv antibiotics when a doctor protectively peeked in and said they were preparing a room for me upstairs. About six hours later, I was taken upstairs to that room.
The room had about a 2-inch vertical slit in the window to see the outside.
There was an eight-inch, accordion style, metal reinforced plastic exhaust pipe drawing air out of the room as fast as it came in from the air conditioner, making it very warm. There was one bed by that window. After a while I realized that there was a computer on a roll-around cart (battery operated, of course it died!), a 2 drawer stand with phone and a stand that could go across the bed. On the other side of the room was a laundry bin, stand and a phone. Both nurses had PPE on. They think I’m a Covid patient, I thought.
I was told by the other nurse that I was being labeled a POI and marked independent. I asked what these meant. First, I was a person of interest (suspected of having Covid). She told me independent meant that I could get out of bed myself and use the toilet. I think they were trying to reduce their exposure. I have to tell you the first time I did get out of bed, not being totally “with it” I nearly pulled the iv unit out of the wall! Realizing it was plugged in, I staggered over to the outlet and unplugged it. I made it to the bathroom on wobbly legs as I still had a fever. This was about 2:30 am.
The shift nurses who came in donned PPE and took it off when they left, placing it in the laundry bin. That laundry bin never left the room. Usually a nurse came in donned with the PPE, only when the iv antibiotic bag ran out. They took my temperature, blood pressure, pulse, answered questions and went over by the door, took off their PPE and left. Sometimes I had to ring for them because the door was shut and they could not hear the alarm when the antibiotics ran out. They definitely restricted their time spent in my room.
A doctor came once a day and explained what they were doing for me and why.
A full day after I was admitted, an infection manifested in my right leg. This could have been an answer for my high fever, but my test results had not come back. But now medicine could be used to target this infection so my fever finally, slowly diminished.
The curtain was drawn that separated me from the other side of the room. I have many allergies so dietary called me to try to accommodate these. They called the phone on the other side of the room so it had to be brought to me. Now that was going to have to be sanitized along with everything else in the room. The room was never swept or mopped for the entire time I was there (3 days), nor were the bed sheets or pad changed. I began to realize that these people were only trying to help me the best they could and keep themselves safe at the same time. It’s a lonely spot to be in, for all of us.
I had a tv to watch, but didn’t do much watching.
I found it was too dark and wanted to adjust the color but didn’t have the strength. I was glad to have my cell phone and called by family.
In the bathroom, someone had placed a sealed plastic package that had a toothbrush, toothpaste, lip and mouth lubricant, and mouth wash. There was also a comb and two packages of disposable washcloths already soaped! There was toilet paper on the dispenser. I had everything I needed. Fortunately, I could take care of myself after the first 12 hours. I remember one kind nurse fluffed my pillows, another brought me a battery- operated personal fan. She said I could take it home with me. Oh, another disposable.
I was told I could go home once my fever was down but I had to quarantine because my test results had not yet come back. I told everyone that if I had Covid, I’d be in very bad shape as I am what you would call a compromised patient.
The morning I was leaving, the nurse told me to ring for her when the antibiotics ran out, so I did. Another woman, in a mask, opened the door and told me the nurse would be there soon. She closed the door and I heard her remark, “Oh, she’s cute” (meaning me.) It made me think. What kind of ogre or troll did they think had been isolated in the room? Laughter, they say is the best medicine.
When I left the hospital, security was called so no one tried to use the elevator. Visitors had just been allowed into the hospital, two to a patient. Security put up signs that the elevators were being cleaned and could not be used for a time.
Why am I telling you this?
This is the way I was treated as a presumed Covid patient. Some of that was by accident, some by necessity. I found laughter where I could, but truly, it was a despairing situation. I did not like the waste of resources, because I knew I did not have Covid. The medical people did the best they could and followed protocol as best as they could. I am so glad they took good care of me while protecting themselves. The results of my tests came back, the day after I left the hospital, all negative! That’s good news for me and the staff of the hospital. How fortunate we all were, this time.
My Changed Life
My husband passed away just as this covid quarantine was beginning.
He was well liked in Little Falls and is the reason I live here. I was a farm kid. I am thinking that the isolation on the farm was helpful in adjusting to the isolation now. I miss my husband and families’ company, hugs and kisses, though. I turned to what I know. I sewed projects that had waited. I researched my daughter-in-law’s family tree. Being a History teacher for over forty years, I researched items I never had the time for before. After teaching thirty seven years in public school, I was teaching, two days a week, History and Writing to people wanting to get their high school diploma . I do miss that interaction. I miss the Historical Society meetings and DAR meetings and the people involved. I don’t go into stores much. I order my groceries online and pick them up outside.
My father and mother lived through the Flu epidemic of 1918, but my father’s uncle died. He was only 26.
The Historical Society and DAR have given me an idea for a new project. Both organizations have been responsible for setting markers remembering people and events. My great Uncle Dominic doesn’t have a grave marker. His actual grave site is questionable. But I am going to try to place an headstone closest to the site as I can. This isolation, then, has led to reflection and hope that our lives on the other side of this pandemic will be one of greater thought and action for our future, without forgetting the past.
Every year, I have grand plans to make the most of the best days
Frankly, I hate winter. Autumn too, (it comes before winter). But spring and summer, oh yes! Every year, I have grand plans to make the most of the best days. This year: plans not so grand. Layoffs, furloughs, families scramble to make ends meet. A cloud of disease blew in from nowhere, it seems. Missing the usual fun. No Diamond Dawgs. No Cheese Festival. No Canal Days, family at the new picnic table after the parade. No parade here or anywhere for that matter, and I love parades. City pool closed. Tubing on West Canada Creek sounds like bliss, but shuttle bus on the way back, packed in with other people. No way. We’ll stick to the house and the yard.
We put in a square foot garden. It’s easy to manage, even in a dry season like this one so far. Weather forecasts change by the hour: thunder storms, we’re waiting. I heard about water restrictions near Albany, but it’s only early July and what’s this Sahara dust cloud?
Signs on the highways urge us to be New York Tough. I’m proud to do that.
That’s the down side. We adapt. Signs on the highways urge us to be New York Tough. I’m proud to do that. We learn phrases like “social distancing” and “flattening the curve”. We navigate Zoom conferences and other no-contact ways of doing business. We wave to neighbors across the yard but we keep our distance. And Little Falls, being Little Falls, creates an instant drive-in movie theater near the empty baseball field, runs a peaceful Black Lives Matter educational event, launches a caravan of cars on Main Street honoring our High School seniors. It’s summertime. We make the most of the best days.
What brings you joy or comfort right now?
In these dark days it is difficult to step back and reflect, harder still to find joy and comfort and to muster a sense of gratitude.
The pandemic news can bring one to the depths of despair, taxing our ability to cope. Such facts make the necessity for “turning the channel” even more important. Although the “joy of the ordinary” has been taken from everyone’s lives, we can renew our gratitude for small pleasures that can help us turn that channel and may become a new “joy of the ordinary.”
For me, continuing to take daily walks, (accompanied by mask and social distancing, of course) either in town or in Little Falls’ surroundings is a hel
pful channel changer.
We are fortunate that temporary relief can be found in our familiar local sites, many within walking distance. We have several choices in our beautiful little town. Our city streets and many parks, the bike trail, Moss Island and many other settings can provide a measure of comfort. Despite our ongoing collective sadness, fear and anxiety, temporarily immersing ourselves in some of our easily accessible local landscapes may offer some solace in these difficult days. This may renew our ability and resolve to face these times with confidence, hope, and faith that better days will follow.
I am a 69-year-old male and retired history teacher.
The COVID-19-induced isolation has provided plenty of time for reflection.
I look to history for parallels and inspiration. My grandparents lived through the 1918 flu epidemic, they and my parents all lived through both the 1930’s Great Depression and WW II; my father fought in the Battle of the Bulge. Most of us lived through 9/11. By comparison, the changes that my wife and I have had to make in our lives at this time are almost insignificant.
Our sacrifices are dwarfed by those made everyday by front line health care workers and other essential employees.
Look 150 miles south to New York City and its huge death count. Look at the 40 million made unemployed by COVID-19. Look at the 70,000 families who have lost loved ones who cannot even be properly mourned. My heart bleeds for these families and for our country. Me, no restaurant meals, no haircuts, limited social contact, no big deal. I do miss Yankee baseball, but no whining here.
This pandemic is disempowering, how does one help?
Donate $$ to food banks, to food pantries, help the needy. Be grateful. Follow the rules on social distancing and face mask wearing. Thank the front line workers. Show a largeness of spirit. Be productive. History will assign blame. Be kind to one another.
I am nearly eighty-four years old and live alone.
I think my time in college many, many years ago, especially graduate school, well prepared me to be self-sufficient to a degree. I love to cook and this eliminated one potential problem – lack of proper nourishment. But, I mostly loved to cook for others. Now gone! I haven’t been in a store in six weeks – my daughters in Clifton Park keep me well supplied with all my food and other needs. No more eating out – a favorite pastime of mine.
For my entire life, I have been a “social” person, whether it be with my family and friends, at work, at play, or in my community activities.
Those that know me know I love to write and talk, to educate others. Since I can’t do this person-to person, I have had to resort to technology. Thank God for the telephone, the internet, U Tube, texting, emails, FaceTime, etc. I connect with family, and new and old friends both in Little Falls and all over the country on a daily basis. But I do miss my friends at Holy Family Parish, and going to the Historical Society on a daily basis. I deeply miss our intense pitch games.
So what do I do?
I have revisited writing projects that have been “on the shelf” for several years. On one, I have amassed over 65,000 words on eighty type written pages! I’ve done some yard work, and look forward to warmer weather. The best thing though, is my daily ride. Each day I drive (with my mask and gloves in hand) twenty to thirty miles around the surrounding countryside. I much more appreciate the astoundingly beautiful area in which we live. The pandemic – it too will pass.
covid 19 bad
pure terror for all
covid 19 rules
cover nose and mouth with masks
let us stop the spread
stand 6 feet away from me
see me with my mask
the collapse is near
health, food, education, votes
we must see it all
noun: haiku; plural noun: haikus; plural noun: haiku
a Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, traditionally evoking images of the natural world.
a poem in English written in the form of a haiku.
The Covid 19 pandemic has altered our daily living in a few profound ways - Good & Bad…
We live in fear every day of one of us becoming sick. My husband has breathing issues, because of a lifetime with asthma. We are so fearful that if we did catch this virus, that he may not survive it. We start our day with this thought every morning. We struggle mentally to get past this thought and on to other thoughts of what we will do with our day. We have never woken up in fear before.
We are Retired, so how we spend our day is up to us.
Pre-pandemic, we spent most days volunteering somewhere. We would spend most of each day out doing something for someone else and return at supper time happy and tired. This is our 7th week at home and we are loving it! We have realized that we had our life out of balance. We have learned that we need to put doing for ourselves just as important as doing for others. Lesson learned.
Going to the market for us was a social, enjoyable outing that we looked forward to on a weekly basis.
We more often then not ran into a friend that we hadn’t spoken with in quite sometime. We usually would chat for 5 to 10 minute and catch up with each other’s lives and then leisurely walk away feeling happy & connected, to continue on with our food shopping until we ran into someone else along the way. Now we get panicky just entering the market. By the time we get suited up to go into a shop, we are soaked in nervous sweat with a mask sucked into our mouths. Without speaking to anyone we go with our food list in hand and shop as quickly as we can. Then head to get back into the car to wipe it, ourselves & our purchases down with disinfectant. Gone is the joy begotten from such a simple outing.