Sitting at the window in our what will
be empty-for-a -long-while main spare bedroom, Terry and I stared into the
street and at the houses all around us.
Twinkling lights, bright shining lights, the quiet light of our street
lamp and darkness. Suddenly someone said
“it’s time” and we heard the sound of clapping. All around us people we
couldn’t see, most of whom we don’t know, joined in. Hip hip I shouted and Hurrah! came a reply. The applause, along with hoots and screams of
delight went on for ages. The NHS is
about people. We clapped loudly. Not just
for today’s current heroes, but for past and future heroes too.
One woman from the Netherlands, Annmarie Plas, a yoga teacher, who now lives in Brixton, was so impressed by the way her fellow country people had saluted their health service workers she started the Clap for Carers movement here. The notion of a health service for all started in the early 1900’s and finally during the post war government of Clement Attlee, the timing was right. Aneurin Bevan, the Heath Minister became the architect of the NHS building on the work of others to establish the NHS. Working together, sharing ideas, helping each other, the NHS does all of those things and those who work in it deserve our applause. Apparently, Annmaire hopes that this becomes a weekly event. We shall see!
On the other side of the world, a friend
is planting a tree in the Newton Reserve on Waiheke Iskand next to their
home. Terry and I have love Kauri trees
and before we left purchased one for Jules.
She’s doing all the hard work of planting! Kauri’s are special. They have a knack of letting their presence
be felt before you see them when you walk in the New Zealand woods. These
wonderful trees can live for more than two thousand years. They hold a spiritual quality that is deeper
than most trees. If you have twenty
minutes to spare… and who doesn’t these days (!) listen to the excellent Ted
talk at the end of today’s entry about how trees communicate. Wonderful!
We are all connected and doing our best.
For a little light relief, see the other
attachment. Made me laugh!
Items sold out and that didn’t come with
our Waitrose order are slowly coming to light.
Butter, pears, fairy liquid and chocolate – Lindor chocolate balls. I’m not too fussed about eating chocolate but
when I want some, well I just want it! I
don’t think I’m alone in that. One of
our friends – you know who you are – scoffed at least ten lindors after a long
and yummy meal at Chez Feest. I can’t
imagine that but sometimes, maybe two…..
Mr. Amazon solved the problem and they
are arriving today! I wish all
“problems” could be solved so
simply. We are the fortunate people who
live in lovely homes with friends around. Spare a thought for the single parent
Mum who has three kids, one bedroom and no telly and no screens in the house
for the kids. Can you imagine it? A Social Worker friend of ours working in
London not only can imagine it but is trying to help with it. Let’s all muse on how we can help shall we? Operation Send Screens. We have a telly in
this house we never use and if Mr. Dyson can come up with a way to help the NHS
by creating and manufacturing ventilators, maybe we could help some of those
kids who also need practical help.
During the day we listen to Radio New
Zealand Concert – “Through the Night” there – gorgeous music and no ads, you
can google or use Tunein Radio and then stream from your nearest device. We caught the news when we sat down to dinner
at eight last evening – it was nine in the morning on the first day of lockdown
in New Zealand. We stopped mid mouthful
when we heard a Police Higher Up say that they were aware that Domestic
Violence would be on the increase and that they would be there to help. He called for people to be kind and caring
towards each other in what is going to be a difficult time for some. It’s not
only the damn virus that is affecting people around the world!
Through it all, we have to look after
ourselves and keep body and soul together. Without our usual activities, we
have to create new ones and enjoy them.
For two nights now the television didn’t go on and the screens were put
down in favour of a book. It was a treat
to read in the evening again. I know for
me, when I can read in the evening, I’m in a better place. I’m eternally grateful for all the goodness
that surrounds us. Half a million people have answered the government
call to help others. That is
priceless. Literally.
Today’s first little light relief video
is equally sexist toward men and women – and a hoot. Hope it makes you laugh as
much as it made us laugh.
The second is a song that might just get you dancing. And ladies, which of us has not had reason to
sing this at some point in our lives since Gloria made it? I wish we could send it to some of those hard
pressed women who haven’t figured it out yet.
Let’s see what we can do about Operation
Send Screens – thoughts appreciated.
Phew! The Pandemic is nearly over. Just a few short weeks to Easter and then
according to the Americans, everyone will be able to go back to how it all was
before. That’s what the President of the
United States says. The Liar-in-Chief has spoken. Apparently schools in America plan to return
mid-April, so my sister in Pennsylvania tells me.
It’s chilling listening to this. People
want to believe the President, they need his leadership. The fantasy he spews is far easier than the
social distancing, being off work, having kids at home, and unable to visit
your favourite restaurant of choice. Mr.
Trump must have missed the reports we watched on the five o’clock news
yesterday!
The images of the hospital beds in Spain
and Italy, empty and waiting, lined up like something not seen in the Western
World, since World War Two. The former Edexcel Centre in London, set up quickly
by the army as a hospital with four thousand beds. The Nightingale
Hospital. Ready. Waiting for the virus
infected people to arrive.
We had a Waitrose delivery yesterday.
Plastic bags were placed outside our front door filled with the order we’d made
on line a few days ago. Marigolds on, we started unpacking. First though we
began with what will become our new normal…Washing The Waitrose. Every item
was cleaned with warm soapy water or sanitised with antiseptic wipes before
being put away. The mountain of plastic
we have created from just this one shop is frightening. Reassuringly normal items for this household at
least– hummus, chicken pieces, pomegranate juice (!), bags of lettuce, goats
cheese. All were scrubbed clean and
hopefully became virus free. I got
tetchy somewhere between the goats cheese and the lettuce. That vision of hospital beds swirled around
the sink along with the soapy water. Time to do my exercises and get away from
this new reality.
After dinner we headed, as we do these
days, to the drawing room. There are no
concert, ballet or theatre tickets in the box where we keep such things. The box like the seats, is empty.
Before Washing the Waitrose and the five o’clock news, the day felt so normal! Terry gardened, I worked on my book, we chatted on What’s App and by phone to the kids, I cycled away on my bike and did overtime on my mat work. Somehow Washing the Waitrose took the edge off normal. Brought it all home, and those images on the news reminded us of what’s about to hit.
Definitely time for a Christmas Cracker
kind of joke. A warning.. I’ve also
included the American President.
Christmas Cracker sort of joke
A Roman
walks into a bar. He holds up two fingers and says, five beers please!
We are all now in lockdown. Terry and I have been here for ten days
already. Our young neighbours who we don’t actually know are being incredibly
helpful. They have delivered milk, daffodils, and have included us if required
on a delivery from a farm shop. I was
especially tickled to read her email to the shop asking if she could include a
few more things for her “elderly” neighbours.
There are three couples she’s helping and Terry is the eldest of them
all so I guess we are elderly! I usually
am the person who does the helping and the sorting and it is strange not to be
doing that now.
It did make me think about words which took me to spelling and I thought I’d share a story about my great uncles. My father’s family came from Czechoslovakia on the border with Poland. The Carpathian mountains were probably their playground. After the first world war the family left, and like many people from Eastern Europe after they sailed across the sea and they entered the States in New York City at Ellis Island. There the family name was changed from Blazek. It became Blosick. The men in the family were all miners and came up from one mine travelled across the ocean and eventually went down another. They were a hard drinking, tough working lot. The mines paid them weekly and usually got the money of each young man wrong, all “Blosick”s appearing the same.. So they all changed their names further. One spelled the name with an “a” instead of an “o”, another put two “s’s” in it and still another had changed it to an “a” with two “s’s”. If Ellis Island could change their name, they reckoned they could do what they wanted to. There are headstones in the graveyards of Shamokin, Pennsylvania with different spellings of all of these brothers. There is a footballer today back in the “old country” who is called Jan Blazek. His website says his hobbies are; Děvky, chlast a prcání (hookers, booze and fucking). The site also includes many photographs of him drinking rum with cola. My great Uncles would have loved this guy!
That’s it for today, there is a lot to
be getting on with and you have exercises to do and routines to develop.
If you do go out please keep your distance – if you’re reading this you are no
doubt, like me, elderly! See you tomorrow.
Madness! That was the headline in one of
today’s papers with a picture of throngs of people out and about in the spring
sunshine as though the world hasn’t changed.
The government here has tried to warn everyone about what’s coming and
how to best avoid it and protect the NHS and protect lives, but many people
still haven’t got the message. A
crackdown is sure to come sooner rather than later. Here in Bristol there are
now twenty confirmed cases of the disease.
Terry and I are going nowhere. We have
wonderful neighbours. Yesterday, the
little daughter of a family we barely know dropped a bunch of daffodils on our
doorstep. Sweet! Thank you to Jenny for her kindness. As it was Mothers Day here, it was especially
poignant.
We are fortunate to have a garden and
that marvellous swing at the end of it where we can sit in the sunshine and
enjoy the flowers that are springing up all over. My daily walks are a thing of the past as I
don’t intend to flout the important advice we’ve been given. So exercise has taken on a different
form. My exercise bike has become a
daily must. It overlooks the garden and
when the weather warms up I might even pop it on the lawn for a change of
scene. I can hear Terry groan at that
idea. Pop it? This heavy thing that has to be lugged and
tugged to even move in the room it’s in.
We shall see. A nice long spell
of good weather and who knows? It might
just find a place to sit for a bit
outside.
The other real workout possibility in this house are the stairs. There are dozens of them! Going up and down from top to bottom for a few minutes gets the heart pumping and the legs stretched. Who needs the (now closed) gym. I never used anything but the pool there anyway, so who am I kidding?
There is also my friend David Procyshyn
who delivers a fantastic yoga class.
I’ve been doing this particular one for years and can highly recommend
it. If this one isn’t for you there are
dozens of others on the website. I
invited David to the UK awhile back because I so liked what he was doing but he
has a family with young kids so that wasn’t possible. He has a lovely reassuring voice. You CAN do this!
A self isolation expert has given us some welcome advice that we might all consider. Wait a minute, self isolation expert? How do you become one of those? (Do what the government says and we’ll all find out?) Or, alternatively, spend a year on the international space station! Scott Kelly has been to space on many missions and written extensively of his time there. He recently shared his top tips for thriving in isolation in a piece in the New York Times.
Top of his list is to make a schedule.
I don’t know about you, but mine will not include a walk in space on Wednesday for eight hours, or any other day of the week for that matter. Following a schedule and maintaining a routine helps individuals and families to plan. Pace yourself though and make sure you have fun and enjoyable things on your list. He said he really missed having a schedule when he dropped back down to earth.
Spend time in nature if you can…
but stay six feet apart if you venture out. Can’t imagine that was a problem on those space walks, but it remains a huge problem here! If you live, as some of my friends do, in apartments with no visible trees or plants or even sky and stars, play recordings of birds, water, and other soothing sounds of nature. In space,Scott played the sound of mosquitoes which I consider a step too far but he so convinced himself that they were with him he found himself swatting them away.
Find a hobby.
The first thing he mentions is find a real book. I never think of reading as a hobby but as a part of life, but the important issue is make it a real book with pages you turn and no pinging from a recently arrived email, or notification that something else awful has happened in the world which you really must attend to now. Keep turning the pages. Let the book carry you away and you too might end up in space one day…I can imagine one of my great nephews might! Learn to play an instrument, or sing – join more than 45 million others and watch an astronaut’s tribute to David Bowie at the end of this post.
Consider writing a journal
– it’s a great way to express all those feelings that you’re having.
Listen to the experts.
They know what they are talking about.
Take time to connect with others
– use phones, skype, letters, shout out the window whatever is required.
The last words today are from Scott. “Seen from space, the Earth has no borders. The spread of the coronavirus is showing us that what we share is much more powerful than what keeps us apart, for better or for worse. All people are inescapably interconnected, and the more we can come together to solve our problems, the better off we will all be.”
With Love
Kathyx
Watch this. Chris Hadfield, an astronaut colleague of Scott Kelly ,
The sky is blue and the cold wind of yesterday has disappeared. Time passes and with it an acceptance settles around us. Eight days in and many many more to come. Today is Sunday and brings with it a distinctly Sunday feel. Maybe a hangover from all those church going days over the years? A calmness and a time to reflect and appreciate and give thanks has arrived. Maybe my renewed mantra, “Be here now” is finally working.
The lady from the gym phoned yesterday in response to my email. The gym is now closed and won’t be charging me or anyone else for that matter our monthly fees. “Are you two alright, is there anything you need?” She asked kindly. “Yes thanks,” I replied, “We have everything we need.” It’s true. We do have everything we need. Besides each other, we have plenty of food to eat in our warm and cosy beautiful home. The little goldcrest visits us daily in the garden and all of the other birds chirrup away. Friends like you are connecting with us and we are not alone. We are staying connected which enables us to carry on.
When we were working, our dinner table was often shared with lots of medics who produced lively and fascinating conversations. (Except for a poor overworked transplant surgeon who once actually fell asleep between the main and his pudding!) I was always interested and often asked, how do you as busy doctors keep a human connection with your patients? With ever increasing numbers of people in your clinics and ward rounds, how do you maintain that? The best answer I ever received was from our dear friend David Thomas, whose brain tumour sadly took him away from us far too soon this past January. David likened seeing patients to reading a good book – and he was a voracious reader! He said, when you’re with a patient, they have your full attention and you’re totally involved in their story, no one else’s. When they leave you or you head to the next bed it’s like you turn the page and you’re on a new chapter. Just like reading, you are totally engaged with each person the same way you are with each chapter in a book. Sometimes, the book ends and you think back to the story and it affects you for quite some time, staying with you. You don’t stop reading because it’s affected you – you turn to a different book and begin a new chapter. Sadly, David’s memorial service this week is one of those many things cancelled because of the pandemic. His story will be long remembered and the many lives he touched remain grateful.
To all of those medics who retain their humanity in the
face of the extraordinary odds that are about to face them, we salute you.
To all of those people who continue to do their jobs, thank
you. To the social workers, the food hauliers, the rubbish collectors, the delivery
people, the farmers, the food store workers and to all of the rest. Thank you.
A special thanks to all of the parents who are working
overtime at the moment, keep up the good work.
And finally, to all the mothers out there, you are loved and appreciated.
Stress!
We are all going to experience it sometime wherever we are and whatever
we’re doing. We are collectively anxious about the same things at the moment; what
is happening to our families and friends and to our world? Feelings of anxiety are normal at a time like
this. According to the experts, you can
expect to feel panicky from time to time. The trick is not to stew in the panic
and the mental health mantra, name it to tame it might just be useful. Okay I named it – fear of the
future.
My solution yesterday was a good cry and a good cuddle. That helped enormously. But then.
Wine…Terry and I drank our wine and yours last night. Our guests who were supposed to be coming to
dinner last night yep we had their share too!
The dinner that we had to cancel.
It’s been a stressful week. What’s going to happen to our kids and
grandkids future. And my oh my didn’t
that wine just take the edge off! Until
of course morning arrived and we both felt awful. Lesson learned for what feels like the
tenthousandth time. We only drink at the
weekend. Friday night to Sunday we share
a bottle of wine…unless one of you are with us and we’re entertaining and
then we shift our consumption days. (Or Terry is at book group, film club
etc..) Are we alone in our stress
fuelled wine consumption? I doubt it!
I’m told, but obviously can’t verify, the stocks of wine at Sainsbury’s and
Tesco are very low.
We won’t be drinking anyone else’s share
again throughout this isolation period, that’s for certain! If we do I’ll let you know and one of you can
remind me we said we wouldn’t. We are
pretty good at keeping our word. Back to
the stress issue that caused us to reach for the wine… sitting at my desk
writing away there is NOTHING I need to stress about. The sun is out for a change and the daffs are
up. My study is as lovely as ever, the
kids are all okay and we are fine. I
even had a friend bring flowers round to the front door this morning and we
chatted face to face -us two stories up as we leaned out the bedroom window and
he sat on the stoop by the front door.
The virus that he probably doesn’t have can’t fly that far. Just speaking to him face to face was great
though. I remember that mantra from my youth…Be Here Now. It was the title of a book by Baba Ram Dass (aka
Richard Alpert) who got lots of things wrong but got that one right.
A friend who lives in Clifton Village told me about a great street party they
held earlier this week. Everyone went to their front gardens at the given hour
– all organised on email – with a glass
of wine (a glass …..!) and stayed in their own gardens well away from
everyone else but all cheered and sang a rousing song together. It lifted their spirits no end. We are social beings and we need to find
those sorts of things that keep us connected.
Let me know if any you have other ideas like that for staying connected
while apart. Also, if anyone wants to share
some insights from your part of the world, please let me know by email and I’ll
post them.
Today I am going to share something funny – there are tons of these things doing the rounds but I’ll only choose one or two a day and only share the ones that make me hoot with laughter. Norman Cousins says “Laughter serves as a blocking agent. It’s like a bulletproof vest, it may help protect you against the ravages of negative emotions that can assault you in disease.
I’m also going to share something of beauty. Our New Zealand friend Rosemarie has a talented daughter who makes gorgeous flower displays and then photographs them. She’s looking for a name for this.
It is amazing how quickly you can
develop a routine. Terry and I have a
very late breakfast and then sit on the garden swing with our cuppa – and no
devices allowed! It’s good to control
the use of all the social media.
Otherwise, it gobbles up every ounce of your energy and snatches time
that might best be used to think and just be.
We are fortunate because we have a magnificent home and garden. Our good fortune has been that many many of you have been to see us here and sit on that very swing I just 18mentioned. There are many swing photos from over the years.
Our friends, Annie and Bob bought us the
Bob and Annie rose which sits to the left of the swing and later in the year
I’ll send you pictures of the blooms. It is huge and has climbed way up into
the coniferous tree next to our copper beech. Of all of our many friends, I’ve
known these two the longest. I told you yesterday I’d tell you about Teddy and
I will but first…
When I was fourteen and living in
Shamokin Dam, Pennsylvania where I grew up, a Summer Stock theatre came to town
– that’s a play a week for those of you unfamiliar with the term. I had already taken a shine to things
theatrical and was on a summer course at Susquehanna, the local University in
Selinsgrove. I played the Fairy King – Oberon – in Midsummer Nights Dream in
our end of term production and Mr. Shakespeare had a friend for life! I don’t
remember all the lines but I do remember this one which seems apt at the moment
–“How long within these woods intend you stay?”
“Who knows” is our collective answer. Fortunately for me, when I was
only thirteen ( I have a summer birthday – I’d soon be fourteen!) I was able to
leave my “woods” of inner longing behind and headed to the professional Summer
Stock Theatre. I have always claimed that I ran away to join the circus which
is only half true. The theatre was created in an old circus tent. I rode my bike up the hill to the tent and
hung about long enough until someone gave me
my first job tearing tickets at the performances and selling
popcorn. No one asked me how old I was,
and I was in heaven. A few weeks later I
was the property mistress and three years later a fully fledged card carrying
Equity Member Stage Managing or assisting the SM. Bob and Annie were actors and wonderfully
gifted talented people and great human beings. They now live on Cape Cod and
Terry and I visited in September. Annie
doesn’t do a great deal of walking these days and her travel days are now
finished. Our timing was great and we were able to share a birthday cake with
her and there were two teddy bears on her sofa which I kept picking up when we
were there. When we were back at the
place we were staying, Terry told me to open my case and there was Ted. I started taking pictures with Teddy in them
and Annie told me she felt like she was on our journey. There are tons of pics of dear Teddy all over
New Zealand. Sadly, Teddy has gone into
hibernation, but he had a great trip and as you can see, he enjoyed
himself!
Teddy relaxing on a fern
Teddy above the river
Teddy on the beach (and Terry in the distance)
For those of you needing a humour fix, watch this one….
Thank you to so many of you who have responded
both on the blog itself or via email! We
have heard from people in Australia, New Zealand, Africa, South America, USA,
Europe, Turkey and of course, from here at home.
The overwhelming message from everyone is that we are all in the same
boat. Sometimes we’re all rocking a bit
in our boat as we all try to deal with the next wave of information that
appears. That’s quite normal. It’s a lot to process and the situation we’re
in is changing quickly.
Today I thought I would share what Terry and I
were up to just last month. It does seem
a lifetime ago now…
We were in New Zealand on the Rangitikei River. We drove four hours South from
Auckland and stopped a night enroute at
a B&B above Lake Taupo, a volcanic caldera that is the largest lake in New
Zealand. Our home for the night was well above the lake and the views from our
bedroom window were magical. New Zealand
is full of people with connections to Britain and our hosts at this lovely
place were no exception. Stephen was born in Britain and still has family
here. We had dinner together with he and
his wife who produced a delicious home-style
three course meal. After a plentiful
breakfast we said our goodbyes and promised when we get that way again we would
stay with them.
Our next stop was for coffee at Turangi. Anxious to get to Taihape (if you saw this
place you wouldn’t believe I just said that!) we soon got back on the
road. You know you’ve entered Taihape
because the sign next to a large corrugated iron statue of a faded multicoloured
Gumboot tells you so. A Gumboot throwing contest is held in this place annually! Like most towns in New Zealand, there’s a
great place for coffee and lunch. The
important stop for us in town though is the New World supermarket where we’ll buy
food for the next four days. We’re headed to a remote lodge on top of the gorge
above the river on a half hour, mostly unmade up, twisty turny road. Our car is
now filled to the brim with food supplies as well as a ton of fishing gear.
We leave the “metropolis” of
Taihape for the Tarata Lodge. We’ve been
there so many times it feels familiar. Stephen and Trudi who run the place welcome
us like the old friends we’ve become.
This time we’re staying at their three bedroomed newly built home which
is ten miles or so away from the main lodge. Because they were fully booked,
they let us stay at this accommodation which will one day become their
retirement home. It sits on top of the gorge and has spectacular views down the
river. We are here to fish. Terry for
trout me for words. I don’t fish. I spend my time writing as we are taken down
the river.
The red inflatable we’ll spend the next ten hours in is kitted out with chairs
– the height of luxury. We do two days of fishing and see no one on our
journey. Ten hours and no houses, no
power lines, no roads, no people. It is blissfully remote. For a woman who once lived in New York City
and likes her creature comforts, it’s a revelation that I love it!
Terry has been tying and using his own flys for
some time now, and our second day on the water our guide, Stephen and Trudi’s
twenty two year old daughter Mikala is thrilled with his success. She reckons it’s the best guiding day she’s ever
had on the river. He caught eight
trout. This is sport. They all go back.
I caught a few words. Please see the photos of our trip below and a
story I wrote while on the river. Hope it fits with my promise to inspire – I
don’t have anything funny to share today, but if you missed it look at
yesterdays posting for a couple of very amusing videos!
Some days are more difficult than others and other people’s problems hit you and you just cry. I’m one of those people. I cry when I am emotionally upset. Like my Baba. My grandmother on my Mother’s side was someone who cared deeply about the plight of others and when upset she cried. I think it’s genetic. Yesterday I thought about my Mother and my Baba, both long deceased. How would they have coped with this? Baba would have been worried for sure, and my own Mother? As she died nearly forty years ago it’s hard for me to remember. There would have been a sense of humour involved though, of that I have no doubt.
Today is not a day for tears but
laughter and thanks. We are beginning to
get ourselves sorted out. Two neighbours
have kindly offered help we might need.
Thank you! The village veg shop, Reg the Veg is going to deliver our
fruit and vegetable needs. Needs? I put gordal olives on the list! Now if you can’t find the humour in that
there is no hope….
Some days are better than others! Naomi,
Terry’s daughter, my step daughter, has to self isolate with her family for
fourteen days as she has a wheezy chest and the GP says that’s what needs to
happen. Where are the tests? Wouldn’t
that help make things easier for everyone?
I don’t understand.
I had a phone call from an old friend
who we hadn’t yet had time to catch up with and
I was delighted to hear his voice as I had been thinking of them. His
wife had died the day before following the return of her cancer. My tears clearly told him how I felt about
his sad news. She was a wonderful lively woman and there can’t be any sort of
memorial service. They were one of those
couples who were meant to be together. They adored each other and cared for
each other over the years. As he is in
the group of people who will need to self isolate I was bereft for him. He will
have to do that on his own. Terry and I
held each other close when the phone call ended. We promised our friend we would keep in touch
and indeed we will, albeit remotely.
Keeping in touch – now there’s a sentiment we use all the time and for now one
thing we cannot do is physically touch.
We are limited to virtual touching only.
And touching is something we all need.
Not just want or desire but need! According to an article in Psychology
Today, (https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/articles/201303/the-power-touch) If there’s a most appropriate time to communicate via touch, it’s
probably when someone needs consoling. Research shows that touch is the best
way to comfort. If you ask people how
they’d comfort someone in a given situation, they tend to list pats, hugs, kisses
and different kinds of touch behaviors more than anything else.
We
all need consoling right now. So here at
the very least is a BIG kiss from me!
And a Valentines Story about making contact even when it wasn’t possible
to touch…..
Several
years ago, I woke in the night with the most awful pain in my right side and
was writhing around on the bed drawing my knees up then turning onto my stomach
and drawing my knees up. Professor Feest
recognized it accurately as gall stones. The day I was operated on was Valentine’s
Day. Having enough pain relief to cope,
my playful side emerged. I got Terry to
write on my stomach Happy Valentine’s Day with my lipstick and to add a few
kisses and hugs. Xoxoxoxox. I said
nothing when I was in pre-op and when I woke up I had a dressing that was
appropriately signed in ink that said: SWALK!
We heard later from the Surgeon that the team had a great laugh and
photos were taken. Apparently, my
greeting has also caused hoots of laughter at several medical meetings. Do what
you can! And Keep smiling.
I am one of those fortunate women who have worked from home for a long time. I get up and dress and put on my makeup every day. I read about a woman who was in isolation with her husband and her two kids and she was determined to try not to sleep in too late and get up and dress and put her make up on. It sounded such an effort for her! I guess home for her had been the place to kick back and relax and do none of those regular things. Working days needed makeup. To me these things just happen with regularity – there are SOME advantages to being older and retired. We are well practiced in our healthy daily routines!
The curtains opened to the most glorious
delicious day! After yesterday’s nonstop
rain, today was bright and sunny with unclouded blue sky. Terry and I decided to go for an isolated walk in the
country side. First, after that all important make up and morning routine, I
did a few emails and tried to cancel my gym membership. I really don’t want to
abide by the three month cancellation rules.
The government has said over seventies must soon self isolate. My husband is over seventy and so I have to
join him. I feel a letter to the gym
coming on…
Normally when we go for a walk in the
country it is then followed by a pub lunch and a carefree trip, possibly to a
garden centre on the way home. Not
today.
Not a soul in sight!
Instead, I made sandwiches while Terry
did an online shop at Waitrose. Our delivery will arrive in a week’s time as there
were no other delivery slots available. We are well stocked for now though as
we shopped on Saturday before we made the decision that we needed to be self
isolating. I did Waitrose while Terry
did the butcher and veg shop on Henleze High Street. We met for what became our
last coffee out for quite awhile.
We drove to Wales and walked in St.
Arvans. We parked up close to the church
and spoke to no one. When the two people
we saw on our walk passed us by we held our breath when they were six feet in
front of us until they were six feet behind us.
We are taking this seriously.
Unlike many of our friends who still haven’t quite got the measure of
isolation. Shopping and hairdressers and
ski trips are off of our agenda. It will be from theirs soon too. Those Kubler Ross loss words are useful to
remember if you find yourself starting to judge others. People are on different stages and have to
come to terms with a great deal. Death
itself may be around the corner for some of us.
The PM Boris says “Some of us will lose loved ones before their time.”
While I am not a Boris fan (an
understatement!) I think he’s doing the right thing. He’s brought in experts. Until recently and
all throughout the Brexit shambles, it would seem that intelligence and
expertise was sidelined. No more. Two
men who stand to his left and right when he gives his press conferences are
particularly outstanding.
Professor Chris Whitty is the Chief
Medical Officer and an epidemiologist who has amassed an impressive array of skills. He is a never married man who also has a
degree in law and an MBA in addition to his medical degree. While working for GSK, Sir Patrick Vallance,
who is medical doctor, was responsible
for enabling new medicines for asthma, autoimmune diseases, cancer and HIV to
be developed and approved for worldwide use. He championed industry-academic
partnerships. Both of these men are
impressive and their honesty and openness is refreshing. It’s a shame they and others like them
weren’t listened to sooner in the ongoing discussions about what the NHS
needed, but at least they are in place now and clearly steering the
government’s plans.
When we finished our glorious walk and the sandwiches were scoffed, we headed
back to the car. We only passed two
other people and breath holding didn’t have to happen too often. Wonder if they felt the same way as they
walked towards us? We didn’t stop to
find out. Normally we would change our
boots at the car but a little school boy with a dummy in his mouth (some
parents need more advice on raising kids!) stood at his door watching us. Terry
closed the boot and we headed home. We
didn’t want him scampering over to us and he looked just the sort of lad who
would.
Boris and Chris and Patrick held a press
conference at five o’clock for nearly forty five minutes and we felt we had
made the right decision to isolate. People are now being asked to stay away
from pubs, restaurants, cafes and theatres and work from home where they can.
We are and we will.
After our roast chicken leftovers we
tried to find something to watch on telly but haven’t got stuck into anything
yet. In the end we watched an old
Frasier. That always makes us laugh and a bit of laughter is just what these
doctors ordered!
Try this one……
Apparently Boris plans to order all over
seventies to stay at home and self isolate so he doesn’t need to look at Corbyn
anymore…or David Davies!
If that doesn’t work for you don’t
worry, how about this one from his hero to pick us all up?
“Success is going from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.” ~Winston Churchill …
Keep enthusiastic…whatever you
do. See you tomorrow!
We are all beginning to take on board the implications of this virus. It seems to me that we have all been in what Kubler Ross identified as the five stages of grief. First there is the denial, then the anger, followed by bargaining and depression until finally acceptance arrives. I can admit to going through all these feelings which are really to do with the grief for life as we have known it which is now irrevocably changed. Like grief, it arrived swiftly, unasked for, and unannounced. I think my denial was pretty intense, my anger measured, but my depression very real.
Until just under three weeks ago, we
were in New Zealand. Just before we flew home, the New Zealand Herald had an
article splashed all over the front page telling the story of the first person
in the country with coronovirus, but the next day on page three we were told
they’d not tested positive. We got on
the plane armed with antiseptic wet wipes and cleaned everything we
touched. Getting back into our lovely
home in Bristol was wonderful and friends asked if I was happy to be home – as
though I hadn’t totally enjoyed New Zealand!
Now, on Day One of Isolation, New Zealand seems a distant dream.
For those of you who don’t know, Terry
and I worked in Auckland for a year and fell in love with the place and have
returned each winter for the past eight years for nearly three months. We spend
about six weeks living in Auckland and travel around the country before and
after our time in that fabulous city. We
walk and swim, Terry catches trout, I keep writing, and we socialise with our
many friends.
Since we returned, I have scoured the
Internet for info about the virus and tried to do everything I could to feel a
bit better. The information came fast and furious from every news outlet
in this country and across the world. I
binged on news and became a news junkie for awhile trying to figure out what
was happening to us all. Our first weeks
back home slipped by with my usual daily long walks and stationery bike effort,
catching up with friends, getting over jet lag. We went to the ballet, watched a modern dance
programme, dined with friends at theirs, had dinner out with others and went to
the theatre. We saw all of the
kids…taking the train to Salisbury and then Exeter. I was in London on
Tuesday and Wednesday. I met our
youngest son in Hackney for a quick cuppa at a Costa on route to visit a friend
with dementia. After spending the night
with her, I travelled back on the train from London to Bristol. While I was in London, I used the tube and
the over ground to and from Liverpool Street to Hertfordshire. Londoners
were subdued and I was careful with hand washing and the rest but only in a
kind of unwilling compliant way. (Bargaining and denial). I was grateful to get
home and knew by the end of the week that we were all in a bit of a denial
phase. An uncomfortable beginning of
acceptance of what was hitting us all nibbled away at me and I tried to ignore
it.
I’d just carry on! We’d be fine.
We would wash our hands and use our sanitizer and the world would soon
return to normal. Then the impending advice to keep over seventies away from
the virus was announced. It wasn’t
happening just yet, but it would and soon.
They would be asked to self isolate for MONTHS.
Terry and I are now self isolating. This
is DAY ONE. As a reminder about the two of us – my darling husband is a
seventy six year old retired Professor of Nephrology, I’m a retired sixty six year
old with an eclectic career. My last
position was with the Department of Health as a SPAD (Special Advisor) and an
Associate Dean in Bristol in Post Graduate Medical Education, my area of
expertise was first and second year doctors.
Since retirement, I have finished writing an as yet unpublished novel,
started another and settled on a different one which I am currently working on. I’m writing a play with my friend Anne, and
we are trying to figure out how to continue working together remotely. Life at a desk at home is familiar territory.
We are theatre, ballet and concert
goers. I’m in a choir and Terry is a keen trout fisherman who ties his own flies.
He belongs to a film club, we both belong to book groups. We socialise a LOT, dinners with the Feests
are well known to our friends and if
friends aren’t at ours we’re at theirs on both sides of the world! We read, listen to music, and travel a lot –
or used to. For now we are in lockdown. We will walk in isolation. Terry
will fish ( very self contained sport) I will write. All seventy year
olds will soon to be told to self isolate for months. We are starting the
process now. It’s scary stuff.
To be honest I love humour where we can
find it and love that we have a wonderful home and garden to live in. I’m
not so keen on telling our son, (my stepson) that he can’t stay with us while
he works in Bristol in a week’s time. (That made me cry) I told Terry he had to
do that. Then it dawned on me. Naomi our
stepdaughter can’t come either. Nor
Alexander our youngest. The
grandchildren can’t come either. It all
became very sobering.
This can’t be happening. A great deal of water separates us from the
Continent. Not here. Not us. We won’t
become as bad as Italy. Or France. Or Spain – yet.
One tiny word that means so much! Yet.
I decided to keep a daily account of
what our life is like in Isolation. I
wanted to share my feelings with our many friends who are scattered around the
globe. Terry may from time to time share his thoughts too. Social isolation is
upon us and we are social beings.
Coronavirus is upon us. Finding
ways of continuing to live our lives and love the lives we live is our
challenge.
My
promise is to offer not just what my and our feelings are, but something
regularly that is either uplifting, funny or just plain pleasant. It is my gift to you all. My many many friends who have always told me
to keep writing. I shall. And I hope to
hear from you, too.
We all come to terms with this pandemic
in different ways at different times and are on the Kubler Ross journey. It isn’t a linear trajectory and some days
will be better than others and tears will flow. And we don’t even have this dreaded
thing….yet.
On a brighter note. The birds are
singing the daffs are up and despite it all, in writing this and sharing it
with you I’m already beginning to feel like me again despite this damnable
situation.
Lots of love
Kathy x
Below is the first thing I found that made me laugh about this virus. Hope it makes you laugh too!
