It’s been two weeks since the smoke from the fire finally cleared and San Francisco was drenched in rain. I’d never experienced air pollution like it – the 2017 fires were bad, but this year’s smoke settled over the city like an unwelcome houseguest.
What I didn’t expect was that even all this time later, I’m just starting to come out of the fog of the smoke myself. It hit me harder than I expected – the combination of being unable to go outside during the day right as the clocks changed left me feeling like “oh, it’s bedtime” right as soon as the sun set… at 5PM.
I did all the right things – I got an air purifier, minimized time outside and consistently wore a mask when I did, and ultimately left town for a couple days when the smoke was at its worst. I was fortunate to be able to afford to do all the “right” things – and I was still a mess, and it still hit me harder than I even realized when I was in the thick of it, and took much longer to recover from.
This probably could have just been a couple of tweets but I wanted to write it out to remind myself of how I felt if the fires (and smoke) hit again next year – both for myself as a reminder of how bad it was, and for others, too. Bay Area friends, know that if you’ve been feeling like shit this fall, you’re not alone and you’re not weird. It’s been rough, even as a generally pretty physically healthy person (albeit with mild asthma – a visit I had to the pulmonologist today reminded me to write this post). I’ve been thinking, too, of this smart twitter thread about disability, denial, and the smoke:
I am deeply lucky to only have had to deal with the smoke’s effects on my lungs and my brain. Nearly 100 people lost their lives, more are still missing, and thousands of people are now homeless – climate refugees in California, a state in perpetual housing crisis. My post-election worry that the federal government would bungle aid to natural disasters in California proved somewhat true – enough to make me feel justified about having checked off some of the Wirecutter’s disaster preparedness list a while back. Raking the leaves isn’t going to save us from climate change. But at least for now, for those currently still dealing with the aftermath, you can make tax-deductible donations to fire relief efforts via the North Valley Community Foundation here.