“Mom, I can’t breathe.”

My daughter lives 1044 miles away.

When she said that to me on her call this afternoon, I forced myself to listen and pause.

She’s an adult, a mom. She’s also in the service industry and she’s just left work.

She told me it felt like a brick was on her chest, like it felt when she had pneumonia when she was 12 and had to be hospitalized for a week.

Everything in me freaked out. But I didn’t say drive to a hospital right now. I said “go home and call your doc.” I don’t even know if she has a doctor. She’s in the service industry. She has insurance, but doctors cost a lot of money, even when you’re insured. She goes to Minute Clinic usually, if she goes at all.

I told her she was under a lot of stress. I asked if she was running a fever.

She wasn’t. We talked some more.

And it all came out. The incredibly long lines in the drive-thru, the customers angry, the phone calls to “talk to the manager.”

Yeah. We’re in the middle of a deadly disease outbreak where every single person is at risk and people want to scream at the people preparing their food and drinks. Okay.

It sounds like stress. The customers are dressed, employees are stressed, this Momma’s stressed. We’re all stressed.

And it’s getting way worse out there so we need to learn to deal. I’m going to utilize my Calm App. I hope she will too. And those customers, geez people. If you’re going out, be nice. None of this is easy, none of us have done this before. Breathe.

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