We’re getting closer to putting 2020 behind us. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as my mother might say. Life everyone else, I’m sick and tired of COVID-19.  It has ruined plans, taken people from us, delayed travel, interrupted educations and disrupted the economy. Depending on where we live, it may have locked us in our houses, and wherever we live, it’s made us hoard toilet paper, hand sanitizer and wipes.  We started baking bread, leaving flour and yeast  I even heard that popcorn was in short supply as we hunkered down to see if we could watch all of Netflix.

Really early on, before we knew much about the virus, I ordered disposable masks and gloves from Amazon. They eventually arrived – seems like everyone else had done the same – but by then I had also ordered some cloth masks from a local company. From neighbourhood seamstresses to fashion houses, everyone pivoted to make masks. There were plain masks, pretty masks, masks to match an outfit. But I wasn’t going many places to need a mask. I was working full-time from home and running out to the grocery store once a week to quickly pick up whatever was needed. Mask-wearing occasions were rare and short.

Now, I’m a woman “of a certain age” and the wonders of peri-menopause are part of my daily life. My friends would tell you my internal thermostat runs high at the best of times. I turn up the thermostat when guests are expected and even then, more than one of my friends always shows up with slippers. But now, hormonal spirals, irregular periods and dreaded hot flashes come and go with no seeming rhyme or reason. If it had to happen, during a global pandemic wasn’t a bad time, so co-workers didn’t have to have an up-front view. And if I’m particularly irritable, there’s nobody to snap at.

As mask manufacturers geared up for back-to-school, my employer also started talking about a few of us returning to the office – at least part-time. I was a bit nervous, but as I saw the precautions that were being taken, I realized the office was probably safer than the grocery store.

I have my own office, so mask-wearing at my desk isn’t required, although it is in the hallways, whenever someone comes to visit my office and in our much-reduced capacity meeting rooms. Even though we can be six feet apart we must still be masked. This is all good and I understand it’s for everyone’s health and safety.

I was sitting in a meeting room recently with colleagues for a strategy development meeting the other day. This was an important meeting, and it was very helpful for some of us to be together. A few other colleagues showed up by video. Video meetings are good, but nothing beats face-to-face. It was a three hour meeting. With only one break. In masks. Me, three guys and a woman at least 10 years younger than me. 

All was good for the first half hour. I was enjoying not being the only woman in the room and the collaboration was great. The room was a little warm – everyone mentioned it. But then it started to get warmer. Except nobody seemed to notice except me. And it got warmer. I had a hair elastic in my pocket, so I pulled it up off my neck. It didn’t help. I was wearing a cardigan over my short sleeved blouse, so it came off too. It still didn’t help.

So now, instead of concentrating on the meeting, all I could think about was this mask and the hot damp breath behind it. And with every minute, it got worse. Finally, shutting out the meeting (don’t tell my colleagues), I started focussing on my breath the way I would have in my now  COVID-cancelled yoga class. Slowly – very slowly – I felt my internal thermostat start to reduce and the voices in the meeting came back into focus. Unfortunately, my hot flashes seem to come in waves, so cycle happened a couple more times before we finally got to the break and I could escape to the cooler stairwell.

For the second half of the meeting, I generously offered my in-room seat to another colleague. I sat in my office, in relative coolness. Cardigan off, socks off and blissfully maskless – maybe video meetings aren’t so bad after all.