By: Malosree Maitra and Zahraa Chorghay (Twitter @fieryzarzar)
It’s mid-March, marking the beginning of the COVID-19 quarantine in Montreal. Within a week, the gradual unrest surrounding this viral disease has solidified itself into the certainty of a pandemic, and life has shifted from a series of hypotheticals to a strange reality. Among the clamour to amass stockpiles of rations and circumvent toilet paper shortages (a phenomenon one would have scarcely predicted in our lifetimes!), IPN graduate students browse obsessively through the news and tweets, recognising that with this virus, anyone may soon find themselves face-to-face with death. What terrifies them perhaps more than mortality itself is this prolonged fight in a hospital, with every moment of a precarious life dictated by the ways of cold procedural rooms, sterile surgical instruments, the smell of Clorox and ethanol, the downcast gazes of patients and their families… What terrifies them is being alone with the brewing tornado of their own spiralling thoughts, where it is abundantly clear that any misstep will not be a mere inconvenience for their own selves but could endanger all the lives intertwined with theirs.
As the dystopian world of a pandemic emerges around them, instead of dwelling in this fear, they realise that their lived experience with health and mental health monsters is precisely and unexpectedly what prepares them for transition into this brave new world. However, for many of them, the landscape of uncertainty under the clouds of mortality is intensely foreign, and they stumble into it, dazed. Barely have they set foot here that they find themselves quickly shepherded into a way of life they trust will help get everyone through these tumultuous times. No matter who or how they are pre-pandemic, they learn to wash their hands meticulously, to distance friends and family beyond their immediate quarters, to time purchases on an as-needed basis and off-hours, to avoid non-essential travel, and later on, to wear masks. With a lockdown in place, the abundance of “spare” time allows them to spend more time with loved ones inside their bubble, especially virtually, and to rekindle old hobbies or seek out new ones: they make art, bake sourdough bread (so much sourdough bread!), challenge themselves with the most “unfeasible” of elaborate recipes, play everything from chess to Animal Crossing to World of Warcraft, and attempt to groom their beloved pet – or even their partner! – with DIY haircuts. And when they are exhausted by it all, they mindlessly browse through videos or lie down with eyes wide awake, watching as time flits by. In this way, they muddle through these strange times as humans do, adapting to a surreal situation.
More than a month into quarantine, their concerns begin to shift away from the acute to the chronic. Long-term implications of stalled life and the pandemic world loom like shadows in the fog of this uncertain landscape. They feel obligated to be grateful that at least they have stipends given global concerns regarding unemployment and business closures. Nonetheless, as IPN graduate students, there is one question that they all must eventually confront: how does one actually do a neuroscience PhD in a pandemic? Those focusing on coding, analysis, or writing up papers, candidacy proposals, or their dissertations have a clearer endeavour set out for them than those who were in the midst of data collection or being trained on techniques just prior to the enforced lab shutdowns. Nonetheless, they all face the pressure to be productive despite the toll of contagion management, the sudden unavailability of previous support systems for health and mental health care, and the worsening of financial burdens on a population that is generally below the poverty line. Furthermore, COVID-19 isn’t the sole tragedy many of them must wrap their heads around, with concerns for justice and safety of loved ones “back home” (e.g., the cyclone in Kolkata or the explosions in Beirut) or globally (e.g., the Black Lives Matter movement) also affecting them. With these challenges, the motivation for working on their PhD becomes tenuous, because even if they magically overcome the COVID-19 disruptions and manage to do all that needs to be done, what lies beyond? Some days, it seems rational to just sit with a cup of chai or a glass of wine and stare into the quiet chaos.
Perhaps one of the first constants that seems to emerge in the COVID-19 chaos is Zoom. They dream in Zoom meetings, so omnipresent it is in their quarantine world that it burrows itself into their consciousness. The endless online presence quickly becomes a cornerstone of existence, a black hole towards which every facet of life gravitates: meetings, professional and personal; social activities like gaming and Netflix parties; and health and mental health care, including appointments and physical fitness routines led remotely by enthusiastic health professionals striving to prop up a society in a pandemic that probably threatens them the most. The distinction between their personal space and the world itself disappears, as virtual interactions become the primary way they can stay connected in the harsh landscape of a world that not only demands their isolation, but worse, precisely dictates the conditions of this demand.
Those of them who find themselves living alone, even if only for a few weeks, begin to crave the physical presence of other humans. On Zoom, they focus on every expression and intonation streaming on their screen until it exhausts them completely, yet leaves them yearning for real human interaction as soon as the Zooming ends. They start skipping scheduled online socials and retreat into themselves. When living with family, they sometimes suffocate in whatever familial role now seems to define their entire being (parent / child / partner), gasping for a clear breath of their personhood. They become flustered by small inconveniences, resulting in larger full-blown arguments or complete withdrawal as a means of self-preservation. On Zoom, they change their background and conscientiously exercise the Mute function so as to detract from the chaos of close family quarters. They may even camouflage the need to take emergency meetings on the toilet seat as their spouse attends another Zoom meeting from the cramped quarters of their shared studio! Even those in-between the extremes of complete isolation and around-the-clock family obligations (living with roommates, a new partner, or friends) are left longing for some solace and reprieve in this “bubble” that restricts autonomy, connection, and expression in the face of the civic duty to protect life itself.
In these miniscule bubbles, they float past winter and spring into the sticky heat of summer. Rendezvous at parks in small groups serve as the first social interactions beyond the initial bubble, and usher in the loosening of quarantine restrictions. They are gradually allowed back into the laboratories that had been abandoned for months now, resuming experiments despite feeling nervous about unpracticed skills, old reagents, and lost time. And now, as summer turns to autumn, they are comforted returning to old routines fragrant with the scent of past normalcy, from taking a stroll through the Atwater Market to grabbing an espresso at Dispatch to thrifting at Renaissance. Yet, this is an unstable equilibrium, with the omniscient threat of contagion lurking just beneath the surface: at any moment, someone can succumb to the virus. The anxiety and fatigue from constant vigilance, occasional missteps that can endanger their health, getting tested and self-isolating for COVID-19, and balancing these additional pressures with previous responsibilities are becoming the new norm; such circumstances highlight the need for mutual kindness and understanding.
Beyond facing significant impediments in pursuing exciting opportunities such as travel adventures, conferences, training, and of course, scarcity of employment opportunities following graduation, they feel the impact of missing out on time with loved ones; they have been unable to see their dear friends, family members, and even partners for months on end, both within Montreal for risk of contagion to vulnerable loved ones and outside due to COVID-19 travel and visa restrictions, and do not know when they will be allowed to do so. They flounder navigating a world in which they want to thrive in the pursuit of their passions and relationships, while balancing the safety and security of the very same passions and relationships. They can only hope that just as they adapted to a quarantine way of life back in March, they will be able to adapt to this new, post-pandemic reality with grace and grit.
Sketches from Marina Wakid
We wish to thank several IPN students whom we could interview for this article, including Claudia Belliveau, Anjali Chawla, Dhruv Mehrotra, Nathalie Nilsson, Neelima Vaddadi, Marina Wakid, and others who wished to stay anonymous. While we tried to incorporate as many diverse perspectives as possible, we only had limited space! We have tried our best to do justice to your narratives and welcome any feedback (via email or through our social media).