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!
