I Hugged My Nana Today
I’ve been waiting almost 15 months to run into my Nana’s apartment and wrap my arms around her without thinking about germs - and it finally happened. It’s been two weeks since her second dose of the Moderna vaccine, which my mom got for her out of pure dumb luck thanks to our state’s first-come-first-serve system.
I was so concerned with her being immune that, on the way out the door, Mom reminded me that I would need to wear a mask during our much-anticipated hug. I asked why, only to be reminded that I am unvaccinated. It struck me that I hadn’t thought about my own medical needs this whole time.
Sure, there are times when I worry about getting COVID, especially due to my history of blood clots and horrible fear of having a recurrence. But I hadn’t even considered my own safety - only my fear that my very occasional grocery store trips or dog walks would mean that I would breathe a germ onto Nana - who is 92 years old and my “blood thinners buddy” thanks to a heart condition - that would kill her.
It struck me, as I hugged Nana close, that this is one of my very rare obsessions where I worried about someone else’s medical safety above my own.
When I was little, I thought I’d broken my mom’s back by stepping on a sidewalk crack, not realizing that she had hurt her back long before I could walk. But even when, when I assiduously avoided stepping on more cracks, part of me knew that was just an obsession and I couldn’t really hurt my mom. My therapist said it, and even Mom said it - but in the case of COVID, there was an actual, legitimate way that I could do something careless, carry the virus back to Nana in a state where resources are spread thin especially in the case of the elderly, and actually kill her.
And so, I was meticulous. Even though I wanted to “cheat” since day one, when I phoned her from her lawn instead of going into her apartment, I didn’t hug Nana. I came close a few times, but never gave in to the temptation of a big hug that I’ve wanted (and sometimes needed) since the pandemic started.
When I came home last March, terrified of both the virus and germaphobic thought patterns I hadn’t had in a long time, I didn’t hug her even though it was something I always did when I was in trouble. When I gave back my puppy and sobbed my heart out to Nana over the phone, and then from across her apartment after I came home and quarantined, I wanted to hug her more than anything, but I was too afraid of hurting her.
It’s strange because, looking back, my germaphobic obsessions were always extremely self-centered. I didn’t care if kids in my class threw up as long as they did it far away from me. When I heard anyone was sick, whether it was something little or catastrophic, the first thing I thought about was when I’d last seen them, whether they had something contagious, and what the signs of their illness were so I could monitor myself for symptoms.
It all seems incredibly selfish when I think about it now, but I’ve always experienced OCD like a vortex - it’s not just that my thoughts cycle, but they can also pull me into an increasingly narrow focus until I’m only thinking about myself and my own medical needs - even if I am feeling completely fine.
This pandemic has been the first time I can remember someone having to remind me to look after my own safety in a medical situation. It’s the first time my obsession haven’t led me down into a whirlpool, but instead, compelled me to look after someone else. I bought masks with extra layers, was extra conscious of social distancing, and spent 8 months living 15 minutes away from Nana without hugging her because of her safety, not mine.
When Nana got her vaccine doses, I couldn’t wait to be able to give her one of our great big bear hugs that I’ve loved my whole life. After all, she was the first person to hold me when I was born - and we basically haven’t stopped hugging ever since. When I feel down, it helps me to think of some of our most memorable hugs, like the bear hug I got after every graduation ceremony, the ones when I flopped onto her like I had no bones when things weren’t going well, or the marathon hug I timed after I got out of the hospital (15 minutes, if you’re curious).
Today’s hug was another memorable one - I felt like I was learning how to hug her all over again, remembering our height difference, the smell of her shampoo, the way we cling onto each other and it somehow makes everything better on both ends of the hug. Even with a mask, it felt natural and special, and I couldn’t imagine worrying about catching COVID from this encounter. In that moment, no thoughts or fears could stop me from technically taking a risk for my health that was so overshadowed by joy that I barely even noticed it.
I hugged my Nana today just like I’ve wanted to since the moment I said goodbye to her at the end of a family vacation in December 2019, the last time we saw each other before the pandemic. As I drove back to my parents’ house, I thought of the days when I could never imagine putting someone else’s medical needs above my own or taking a risk for any reason. It reminded me of how far I’ve come and how far I’ll be able to go - thanks in no small part to Nana.
Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.