Six weeks of isolation

Trillium in the forest

I love these beautiful fragile flowers. I've never seen a forest of them, but I know they exist, or at least they did at one time. They are fragile and ephemeral, only blooming once in early spring. Over the years, I've been fortunate to see them deep into summer months as we hike in the High Country, where the snow is slow to leave and spring comes in July. When a trillium flower ages, it turns purple, and I've seen many over the years. Not this year, though, as the entire Mt. Baker Wilderness Area will be closed through September.

It's been six weeks now since Washington State entered our period of self-isolation in mid-March. Friday is the first day in May. I believe it will be in effect until the end of the first week of the month, and may be extended if necessary. What a strange world we live in today, with millions of businesses closed down in most countries, few people leaving home to go to work, and in the US alone, 26 million people have filed for unemployment. Friday will be another day when millions will be unable to pay their mortgage or rent, with no end to this disaster in sight. I am thankful for Social Security for us old folks, but it barely covers the rent. I expect to see at least a 25% drop in my annuities, delivered monthly into my bank account. But we do have enough to get by without going into debt, which is more than most people can say. Hopefully we will get through this period with our country intact. A very scary time indeed.

Other than being unable to attend the local YMCA, which was part of my daily life before all this, and my wonderful Saturday walks with the ladies and my usual Thursday hikes with the Senior Trailblazers, most of the beautiful springtime outdoors in the Pacific Northwest is available to me. I am healthy enough to walk and hike alone, or with another trusted friend who will social distance with me. That trillium picture was taken last week when I went for a walk in the woods with my friend Melanie. But I miss my routine and yearn for its return.

However. Looking on the bright side, SG and I have learned to accommodate each other's constant presence without our marriage falling apart. In fact, we are happier together than I would have believed possible. While I am missing my morning routine in town, he is missing his solitary mornings but has adjusted quite well, considering. Both of us, we are pretty sure, have had the Covid-19 illness and recovered. After seeing that 20% of all New Yorkers have tested positive for antibodies, this tells me that there are lots of people like us who are survivors of the illness. We were able to use telemedicine to communicate with our doctors and be reassured that we made the right choice not to attempt to get tested. Unless you are very sick, you don't need to.

Another bright side is the clean air that some places have not experienced in years. I saw a picture showing the difference, and it reminded me that we truly need to move away from the world we have been living in. Perhaps this time in the history of the world will be where we moved from one historical period to another, with it being born around us. Technology has made a huge difference in our ability to stay connected with one another during this time. I've used video conferencing to take yoga classes, and I talk and visit with family and friends through different software programs. That has been a real asset in helping to keep my sanity through this period. And I've taken advantage of the many ways I can bring entertainment into my living room: Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, Disney+, and now Apple TV. (I subscribed just last week to that one.)

And while there may be shortages of some items in my grocery store, for the most part it is well stocked and I can visit with social distancing in place. Our Farmers' Market opened last week in a limited version, with only a few people being allowed in at a time, but it's sure nice to see those familiar vendors. We are not able to pick over the produce, but as we point at what we want, the items are weighed and bagged without any physical contact with the vendor. And now almost everyone is wearing a face mask and maintaining proper distance from others. Soon (hopefully), this will all be a memory and we will return to a semblance of normal life. But I suspect it will be a new normal, not the same way as the one we had before. I like to think it will be a better normal.

We had a couple of days with gentle rain, enough to clear the air of pollen and giving the garden a good drink. It's been cool, but I have enjoyed the clouds and sun alternating throughout the days, and again I can give thanks for the environment we are surrounded with. So much greenery, so many lush flowers blooming everywhere. It's hard to be too gloomy when the weather is so fine. And I have adapted, finally, to a less vigorous daily routine, no longer caring that much about my step count (although I do still care), and enjoying my ability to put on my hiking shoes and step out the door into a wonderful world.

Sunday. I keep reminding myself that it's Sunday, which is why I'm writing this post right now. For a few minutes, I debated about going to the Farmers' Market, but then I realized that was yesterday. Some people love schedules and routine (I'm one of them) but I am also learning that I can adapt, even in my old age. I feel hopeful about the future.

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift of God, which is why we call it the present. —Bill Keane

And now it's beginning to look like the time is coming to wrap this up. Next week we will be in the month of May, with March and April 2020 behind us. Who knows what the world will look like in a few more months? I'm hopeful, because why not?  I've managed to leave my gloom behind me for the moment, and I'm looking forward to having at least a little less isolation in the future. My dear partner lies sleeping, still, next to me, and I'll be heading into the kitchen to make some coffee in my French press. Perhaps I'll sit on the front porch and enjoy it as the sun warms me on the outside, while the coffee does the same on the inside. Dear friends, I am eternally grateful for you, for the virtual family we have created, and the wonderful community of like-minded souls that visit this spot every Sunday morning. Until we meet again next week, be safe and be well. I wish you all good things.

Twelve years later

Cherry tree in bloom

It was twelve years ago, on April 17, that we finished our journey from Boulder to Bellingham, with our U-Haul and Honda Civic to begin our new life in retirement. I saw this lovely tree in bloom in front and was introduced to our new apartment. SG had come here in February to find us a new place to live, and this one was not only available, but pretty much ideal. Twelve years later, we're still here. Although we are still in the same 26-unit complex, we've moved once, from a two-bedroom on the south end to one on the north side, but otherwise, we have not changed our residence during this time.

Many other residents have come and gone, some moved away and some died, but one other couple who were here when we moved in is still here and have become good friends. I can't visit them at the moment, since we are all still in lockdown in our own homes, requiring six feet of distance between us, but we text and talk to each other on our phones now and then. It has been a good place, but I must say I am getting very tired of being unable to go anywhere, since nothing is open and the streets are still pretty much deserted. Now that the weather is getting warmer, it seems that everyone is restless and wanting to change the status quo.

In our county, we have had 25 deaths, mostly people in nursing homes, and fewer than 300 confirmed cases of the coronavirus. That doesn't include many of us who believe we contracted the disease and had mild cases. My doctor believes we did have it and have now recovered. She said there was no reason for us to get one of the scarce tests, unless we got worse. Fortunately, we both no longer have coughs or any of the other symptoms that we experienced earlier. I was very tired for what seems to be a long time.

It did give us both a chance to use telemedicine to "see" our primary care physicians. Using our PeaceHealth portals to discuss our symptoms and a course of action, it was very comforting to realize that I can have a chance to interact with my doctor without having to go into the eye of the storm, so to speak. Hospitals are not places I like to visit, especially now.

I have given up trying to get my usual step count every day, and now that I am getting stronger and want to get outdoors, I have had a few solitary walks, much shorter and slower than usual, but it's been a tonic for my mood and helps me feel better overall. The only actual thing I've done regularly are my Zoom yoga classes twice a week. I've actually enjoyed them, even if it's just not the same. I get to see my instructor and when we first sign in, I can see who the other participants are. We can say hello before we start the class, but then we get down to business and it's just me, my yoga mat, and the screen on the iPad.

There is the pesky problem of putting on a few pounds, just like probably much of the population. Not getting as much exercise and being home all the time, I spend a fair amount of time looking for something to eat, even when I'm not hungry. I smiled at the thought of gaining the "Covid Fifteen," although for me, so far, it's been the "Covid Five." And I am trying very hard to keep those numbers down. I still weigh myself every morning, trying to keep myself honest, and I was doing pretty well until I added a fairly generous glass of wine to my diet every night. I had gotten away from it being a nightly thing and only indulged when I'd had a particularly strenuous day. That changed when I stopped being able to have any semblance of a schedule and felt like I was dragging myself through the day. There seemed to be no reason not to treat myself, but now I'm feeling better and want to get back to a healthier "new normal."

We received our stimulus money, although since we are retired and living on Social Security, we haven't actually had our income shrink much. That may change dramatically next month, though, when our annuities are recalculated for the year. When I retired, I chose to receive an annual monthly amount, rather than having the amount fluctuate with the market. It made no sense to me to have one's monthly income vary, since our expenses stay the same or increase. I am spending a fair amount less, since there's no place to go: no restaurants, no movie theaters, no haircuts, no shopping for clothes or even shoes. Surely all that will begin to change soon; I'm hoping that by midsummer perhaps some places will begin to reopen. I feel for all the people who have lost their jobs and worry about how our economy will recover. It will take a long time.

There is much to be thankful for, however. This is a global pandemic, and all over the world there are so many places that are in far more dire circumstances than we are here in the US. I am glad to learn that Europe is now past the worst of it, but Africa and India are just beginning. Now that people are no longer traveling, perhaps they won't be hit as hard. I simply have to believe that we will one day see a silver lining come from this dark period. I wonder if I will be around then, since I'm in my twilight years and no longer measure the future in decades, but year to year and month to month.

Since I consider this blog post each Sunday morning to be part of my gratitude journal, it's important to concentrate on the good in my life every day. The one that stands out is my dear partner, who has been on this journey with me now for more than a quarter of a century. After a few failed marriages, I would never have believed that I would be so fortunate as to have found a life companion who would take such good care of me. And I am also very fortunate to have relatively good health, which I must not allow to slip away through inertia and laziness. I've worked hard to stay in good shape and will regain my prior activity level eventually. I have good friends, past and present, who surround me with love and light. Some of them are ones I have never met in person, but that doesn't make them any less precious to me. That would be some of you, dear friends of my heart, chosen family members who buoy me up when I'm down and celebrate with me over my achievements. "At times, our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person."

And we are at the beginning of a new season, just past the equinox and heading toward the solstice, the time when the light overcomes the dark in the Northern Hemisphere, and when the darkest time is past in the Southern Hemisphere. Nothing stays the same, we are not static creatures, and our world is not static, either. This too shall pass, and while we wait for better days, we are not alone. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I hope that you too will rekindle the light in yourself, and I intend to do so for my own family, near and far. Be well and stay safe.

Easter Sunday

Last year at the Tulip Festival

This is probably the strangest Easter Sunday I can remember. There are no tulips to visit in the Skagit Valley, since everything is closed because of the coronavirus. But last year, Lily and I, with a couple of our other friends, drove down south to the Tulip Festival and had made arrangements to enjoy the tulips again this year. It was not to be. I could still order a bouquet, or buy some at the local grocery store to display for the holiday. It's just one more piece of my regular activities that has been lost for the year. I pray that we will be able to visit once again next April.

This Easter Sunday, I wake later than usual, since there is nowhere to go, nothing is open, although I suspect there were people who greeted the Easter sunrise, even if it was a solitary exercise. Or live streamed into one's living room so that people can have a virtual gathering with others instead. Today's technology gives us the possibility of joining others virtually, allowing us to keep our social distance from one another and still enjoy companionship, even if it's really very different from what we have grown to rely on. As an extrovert, I have suffered from the lack of interaction with my friends, other than an occasional FaceTime shared glass of wine with Lily. It's just not the same.

Yesterday I walked over to see the opening of the spring Farmers' Market. Instead of having a grand opening with the cabbage toss (a Bellingham tradition), it was a much more subdued event. Only 11 vendors were allowed to sell their wares, and you had to line up six feet apart. The line to enter stretched all the way around the building. Thirty people were allowed into the open area at a time, with orange cones showing where you could stand, waiting to buy your veggies. You were to point to what you wanted and the vendor would bag them up, and then you were supposed to leave. No standing around visiting was allowed, with staff wandering through the area making sure everyone was following the distancing requirements. I bought some bread from my favorite vendor and quickly left.

I am glad I checked it out, and I will happily visit again, although it's mostly to support the vendors and not because I can't live without Sophie's wonderful bread for awhile longer. I was wearing my sun hat, sunglasses, and homemade mask, so it surprised me when a friend recognized me in line and waved hello. She was one of the only people I saw who was not wearing a mask of some sort; everyone else had their nose and mouth covered, which does seem like it's mostly to protect others from possible infection and not the wearer.

Last week, I speculated that I had contracted the virus. Today, I have no symptoms, my cough is gone and I'm feeling quite healthy. I guess I'll never know whether or not I had it, unless an antibody test is developed and I am able to see if I have antibodies to coronavirus. My tiredness and cough could have been caused by many different viruses, and I never felt any difficulty breathing. But I will continue to act as if I did have it and am still contagious. It's been more than two weeks since I first developed any symptoms, but who knows how long this period will last? It's the same all over the world, with all of us trying to weather the same storm.

The world is a place that is so interconnected that what happens in another part of the world will impact us. —Anthony Fauci

Today is a time when we can reflect on our lives: the good, the bad, the indifferent. Historically, this is the time in the Christian religion that Jesus returned to life after the Crucifixion, when he was resurrected, giving hope to all that eternal life is not just a myth. This same theme is present in many different religions, not just Christianity.

There are resurrection themes in every society that has ever been studied, and it is because not just only do we fantasize about the possibility of resurrection and recovery, but it actually happens. And it happens a lot. —Sherwin B. Nuland

What will I do to mark this exceptional day? Well, the first thing is getting up, taking a shower, watering my recently planted front porch flowers, and sitting in the sunshine with a nice cup of my French press coffee. And I can remember some of the other memorable Easter Sundays in my past. There are quite a few of them. I might go for a walk in the neighborhood, enjoying the explosion of flowers blooming everywhere, and take a moment to appreciate the wonder of the season.

And of course, there is the counting of my many blessings. My wonderful partner, my dear blogging friends, and my own small world of delights. There's love and light and a beautiful Easter Sunday ahead. I do hope, with all my heart, that your Easter Sunday will be memorable for more than simply having to stay at home. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things, dear friends.

I think I have it

Lilacs on the fence

It took me awhile to find a picture to open this post, since I sure didn't want to put a picture of the coronavirus that we have seen everywhere, constantly. I found this picture of lilacs, taken a few years ago, and when I compared it with the same date this year, it shows how far behind our plants are. That's what happens when you have a very cold March, which we did. Right now the same scene looks like this:

Lilacs this year

However, it looks like we should have a bit warmer weather in the near future, which makes me very happy. I haven't felt much like getting out since I took that lovely walk on Thursday. I've been very tired and suffering from what I fear might be a case of the Covid. Last week I wrote about how my hubby started exhibiting signs, and although he still has the cough, he's feeling much better. However, I developed the cough and fatigue and have felt really under the weather, with little to no desire to do much else than sit in my easy chair and binge-watch a series or two.

My symptoms have been mild enough that I haven't felt the need to call the doctor, and I won't unless I start getting shortness of breath. Neither of us have had that worrisome symptom. A sore throat comes and goes, body aches are in the background but go away after a good night's sleep. I am not sure whether or not I've had a low-grade fever, because our thermometer is unreliable, and it's impossible to buy one anywhere. I've watched Chris Cuomo battle the virus on his show, and it makes me wonder if I really do have it. I'm nowhere near as sick as he has been. And I think I'm getting better as the days go by.

Part of the horror of this disease is the uncertainty we are all feeling. Our lives are on hold, everyone is hunkered down and just trying to get through this period intact. My lifeline, other than my dear partner (who felt well enough yesterday to shop for some groceries) is a connection with friends through the phone, FaceTime, and blogs. Seeing how others are coping has been a great help.

When I was in my thirties, my father had a severe heart attack and ended up in the hospital. He was in Texas, and I flew back home to see him during the three days he was in the hospital before he died. That was in the days before we even knew about advance directives, letting others know ahead of time what kind of care we want, in case we cannot speak for ourselves. After all of his children had seen him, the doctors decided to put him on a ventilator, since his lungs were filling with fluid because of his weakened heart. Had I known then what I know now, I would have tried to stop the procedure. It only made him live for a few more hours, and getting on a ventilator for any reason is no picnic.

I found this article on the New York Times, which I read through twice before deciding to put it here. I think you can get it, since they have opened up their pay wall to allow people to get all the information about the pandemic. It's entitled "What You Should Know Before You Need a Ventilator." It's written by a doctor who wishes she could have talked to these patients before they were put into an induced coma before going on the ventilator. You may know that I worked for the Whatcom Alliance for Health Advancement for four years, helping people to write their Advance Directives for what they wish to have happen, if they are unable to speak for themselves in their final days.

I have written one, twice now, and it's on file at the hospital. My family knows that I have decided not to have any heroic procedures if I should get very sick and can't speak for myself. That means no ventilator, don't resuscitate me, just let me go. I went through quite a bit of training to become a facilitator, and I learned a great deal from my clients over the years. I feel very fortunate to have lived such a long and varied life, and who knows how much more time I will have to enjoy on this planet? No one does, and many of our loved ones who are going through this period, watching the terrifying numbers of people dying of the virus, hoping that we will make it through, along with our loved ones.

The main thing to remember is that the vast majority of the people who contract the virus make it through unscathed. Eighty percent, to be exact. And of those who are sick enough to be hospitalized, only a small percentage of them end up on a ventilator. And only a very tiny percentage of those people ever recover. Read the article and think about it for yourself.

In the midst of all this, there are little moments of grace and hope. So many people have been so kind to one another. I keep reading about stories of kindness and allowing unbidden tears to flow. Today's editorial on the Times listed some of them, which I share here:

Behind each of those statistics are untold stories of compassion and sacrifice and heroism that may never be fully recorded. But we do know some: Dr. Mary Krebs, a middle-aged family physician in a farming community outside Dayton, who treated her patients via telemedicine from her own bed even as she battled fever, shortness of breath and a dry cough — telltale signs of coronavirus infection. The Dogfish Head brewery, which stopped making suds and is now turning out half-gallon growlers of hand sanitizer. Mario Salerno, a New York landlord, who said he would not collect rent from his 80 apartments this month, to alleviate stress on his financially struggling tenants. The 29 health care workers who flew from Atlanta to New York City last month as New York began to buckle under the weight of the pandemic. They posed for a photo that went viral, each holding aloft their fingers in the shape of a heart.

This morning, as I finish this post, I am hoping that when we meet again next week we will have been through the worst of the fire and can begin to find a life after Covid. But if not next week, then the one after. Next Sunday is Easter, and there will be no Easter egg hunts, no church services (in person, anyway), but we know that we will get through this, with a little help from our friends and God. And I hope to be able to relate my own journey through. Be well until then, dear readers.

My upside down world

Birthday flowers and "Serendipity"

It's only four months since that picture was taken on my birthday last December, but it seems like years ago. SG brought that Chinese wall hanging in China long ago, and I've enjoyed looking at that character over the years, and I wondered for a long time what the meaning of it is. At first, I thought it meant "Destiny," but just now I found it online again, and its meaning is more like "serendipity" or "fate," or "let it be."

This has been a very tough period in the entire world, with Covid-19 turning everything upside down. I was not meant to be isolated, but that's what I am now, with both of us deciding it's time to self isolate. He has developed signs of having the virus, but I am still without symptoms. It's impossible to find a test in our part of the country, unless you have been exposed to someone who definitely has the virus. And what difference would it make anyway? There is no treatment, and his symptoms are mild. No trouble breathing, no chest tightness, which would be very scary to develop. But we are here together, holding each other up during this time. At least 80% of those who contract the virus will have mild to moderate symptoms, and some of us are completely asymptomatic but are still able to spread it to others. And the two of us will hopefully recover, not having any known underlying conditions to complicate matters.

There is no way for me to know where I fit into that dynamic. Since I am confined to my home with only my partner anyway, my strongest desire is not to infect anybody else, if indeed I am contagious. So, other than a walk outside every now and then, I am stuck inside the apartment. I am wondering whether it's safe to work in our community garden, not that I have much desire to do so right now. In fact, it's difficult for me to get excited about much of anything. Who knew that without my social workout connections I would turn out to be such a slug?

I watched a couple of workout videos and they helped some, reminding me that I have all the equipment necessary to keep myself fit. All I need now is the motivation to close the laptop, get out of my easy chair, and get moving. I know that when I take a short walk I feel much better and more grounded. But oh, how I miss my friends and my fellow seniors. Every activity I have developed over the years is knocked away from me as I try to find my way through this time. I am not alone, that's for sure: there are very few people who are not impacted by this virus. In my county as of today, six people have died, and 102 people tested positive.

Well, there you have the downside of my upside-down world. Now it's time to look at the upside. I'm sure there are some; I just have to search for them. One notable upside is finding new writers, such as David von Drehle at the Washington Post. Yesterday he wrote a column about what this unpleasant infection has taught him. He contracted what he describes as a "mild to moderate" case, and today he ponders what he's learning from it.

Health is not a purely individual concern. My helplessness in recovery can be precisely what the community needs: I am surviving the virus but not spreading it. Some of us are chosen to suffer, some to console; some to isolate, others to plunge into the fray; some to give, some to receive; some to be broken, others to be healers. We are still at the beginning of this terrible teaching. We need to respect it and give it the fullness of time. 

Another upside is realizing how fortunate I am to have the resources I need to stay safe and relatively healthy through this period. There are so many out there who do not have a roof over their heads, an income like I do (Social Security has never been so appreciated), or health care of any sort. I know that if I have to go to the hospital, they will not turn me away because I have Medicare and paid into it my entire working life. I have dear friends who will do my grocery shopping for me if I cannot do it for myself. I never knew before how good a hug can feel when I'm not allowed to touch anybody, or get within six feet.

And that reminds me of the one person whom I can hug, cuddle, and receive assurances from: my dear partner, the one who is lying next to me in bed as I write this, who wakes from his sleep to cough, and then turns over and tries to rest. I think he is better; his coughs are not as frequent, and he and I will both get up and start our day. We have been together in close quarters much more than we usually are, because I am not going out, and this has caused us both to work to find ways to accommodate one another's daily habits. It's working pretty well, actually, and I am reminded that the best upside of this entire situation is getting to spend more time together, with very little friction.

I would not be writing this post if I didn't feel an obligation to you, my dear readers, to share with you what I am going through, and to help each other through this time. It's another one of those obligations that I made for myself and am not willing to give up any time soon. We have a very special family, one made of virtual connections that are as important right now as any other. And since I have never been in physical connection with most of you, I don't have to worry about sharing this awful virus with you. Only the benign virus of love, the one we must continue to share with each other, that's the one I am more than happy to spread around.

I hope you will find some joy and peace in your world today, dear friends. I will be going for a short walk in the rain, and maybe humming an uplifting tune, who knows? Until we meet here again next week, please stay safe and as healthy as possible. It's what I wish for all of us.

Hanging in there

Keeping a bit of distance (vtpeacenik photo)

A week ago, I couldn't have imagined how much the world would change in seven days. It makes me wonder what it will be like in another week. I wake up each day and have to think what day of the week it is. Not that it matters much, they are all the same now, except for my usual blog post schedule, which doesn't seem all that important any more. But it is, and I need to find some ways to make my emerging daily routine help me stay safe but still continue to get exercise.

Yesterday was a glorious sunny day around here. It's time to start getting the garden ready for planting, and my front porch flower pots ready as well. Our wonderful Gardener in Chief, Carter, bought a yard of compost for our community garden and has been spreading it out among all the different garden plots. I went out there yesterday hoping to get my own garden spot ready for planting, but he had already cleared out most of the weeds and plopped a wheelbarrow full of compost on top. I asked if I could have some of the compost for my front porch, and he gave me some of the heavy, dark soil to carry up the stairs. As I transferred it from a borrowed bin, I noticed how warm the soil is. Just by itself, it is generating heat. I found this information online:

Temperatures rising in a hot-compost pile come from the activity of numerous organisms breaking down organic matter. To keep a pile running hot, pay attention to four elements: carbon, nitrogen, water, and air. A hot pile requires enough high-nitrogen materials to get the pile to heat up.

There certainly seems to be plenty of high-nitrogen materials in this compost. I will work on getting it mixed in with the existing soil in my flower pots today. And then I'll think about what flowers to plant in them. It's a very satisfying activity.

I also have received a notice from my local Y that they have put lots of videos on their website, so that I can set up my iPad in an area that has enough room to move, and select yoga, bootcamp, older adult exercise, and more. Virtual wellness programs are a lot easier to make myself do the work than trying to do it alone. I don't know about you, but I simply cannot seem to get up much incentive when there's only me. Other people may not be as socially dependent on others as I am. After decades of working out in classes, I miss the camaraderie and shared experience. I'll give the videos a try, though.

I learned that language and the way we talk about this time we're in makes a huge difference. We now talk about social distancing from one another to keep from spreading the virus, but it's really physical distancing we need. I found this opinion article on CNN, titled "Don't call it social distancing," because those words can foster social disconnection and isolation, which isn't good for anybody, but especially many of us seniors who already fight to stay connected with like-minded people.

We will get through this, but it is going to be a very different world on the other side. And we won't know how it will all shake out for weeks or months to come. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to have my virtual family, my fellow bloggers, to visit daily. Hearing about how others are going through this trying time, and how we are trying to stay safe while everything "out there" represents the danger of infection. Eventually more than half of the population of the world is projected to have contracted this disease, and 80% will recover just fine. Most of the lucky ones are not elderly, like me, however. I try to keep some perspective, but it's hard sometimes. I miss my coffee shop friends. I miss my social connections.

There are kitchens and living rooms I will never visit in person, but they are like home to me in many ways. I care about so many of you, and how you are doing during this very scary moment in the history of the world. No country or location is spared, and we have the opportunity to make the world better, more connected in positive ways, or devolve into warring factions. I will do my part to make it a better place, and I know that you, my dear friends, will too. We must stand up for our belief that good will prevail.

I would like to end this post with a rather long poem written by Richard Hendricks, an Irish priest, who posted this on Facebook a few days ago. It has inspired me, and I hope it will do the same for you. Until we meet again next week, I pray that we will all stay safe and remember and count our blessings.

Lockdown 

Yes there is fear.
Yes there is isolation.
Yes there is panic buying.
Yes there is sickness.
Yes there is even death.
But,
They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise
You can hear the birds again.
They say that after just a few weeks of quiet
The sky is no longer thick with fumes
But blue and grey and clear.
They say that in the streets of Assisi
People are singing to each other
across the empty squares,
keeping their windows open
so that those who are alone
may hear the sounds of family around them.
They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland
Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.
Today a young woman I know
is busy spreading fliers with her number
through the neighbourhood
So that the elders may have someone to call on.
Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples
are preparing to welcome
and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary
All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting
All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way
All over the world people are waking up to a new reality
To how big we really are.
To how little control we really have.
To what really matters.
To Love.
So we pray and we remember that
Yes there is fear.
But there does not have to be hate.
Yes there is isolation.
But there does not have to be loneliness.
Yes there is panic buying.
But there does not have to be meanness.
Yes there is sickness.
But there does not have to be disease of the soul
Yes there is even death.
But there can always be a rebirth of love.
Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.
Today, breathe.
Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic
The birds are singing again
The sky is clearing,
Spring is coming,
And we are always encompassed by Love.
Open the windows of your soul
And though you may not be able
to touch across the empty square,
Sing.

Flattening the curve

Inside a paranoid fridge

I found this image on the internet, looking for something I could use to illustrate the panic I see all around me over the novel coronavirus, which many of us knew little to nothing about just a month ago. How things have changed! But this is not funny, not at all. However, it also does little good to groan and moan about it, to forget that we are all in this together. We need to help each other. A little humor goes a long way.

One of the things I have been very aware of is how different some people treat the same situation: some panic, others deny anything is changing, and others simply retreat to the safety of their own homes and think maybe we can just wait it out. The one thing we as individuals can do is help to flatten the curve. This Washington Post article simulates the different outcomes with different responses to social distancing and isolation. It shows the difference in four different scenarios, and the best outcome is if most of us practice what the article calls "extensive social distancing." That means that everybody is quarantined except for one out of every eight people who are allowed to move about freely.

What is happening in my town right now is that many people are still carrying on their usual activities. That is set to change as the days go by. I went to the Y for my usual workout on Friday, only to find that all the classes have been canceled for an indeterminate period of time, but the facility itself is still open. Well, I thought, I can still get on the exercise bike, and I found that every other station is blocked from use. The social distancing is enforced, not to mention that there were very few people there at all. Stations of Purell hand sanitizer are everywhere, which is great, and the machines are wiped down after every use.

Then I drove to Fairhaven to attend my usual Friday yoga class. We found that as of Monday, tomorrow, the studio will close for the foreseeable future. There were only half the usual number of people in the class and we were asked to thoroughly wash our hands before and after class, as well as sanitize our yoga mats and other equipment. I've learned that the virus does not live for very long on cloth and other soft surfaces, but hard surfaces is another story. The spread of this virus is inevitable, but taking as many precautions as possible is not only recommended, it's the best thing you can do for yourself and your neighbors.

Friday afternoon I went out for a beer and an early dinner with Lily, since I hadn't seen her for a week. She's particularly concerned because she works in a place that manufactures fish into different products, and at the first sign of someone becoming sick, it's possible that the entire place will close down. We went to a local brewery that she likes, and we enjoyed our beer and food at the bar. Very few people were around, and our server said that Friday is usually their biggest crowd, but there were only a half dozen people or so at 4:00pm. We didn't have to work at social distancing, but it was more than a little scary. Lily and I shared a hug, which I suspect might be the last one for awhile, as I've decided to try not to touch anyone except my beloved partner. I'm still not sure what will come of my massages and acupuncture treatments. Each is scheduled for the end of the month, and the way things are moving, I'll bet they will not happen either.

Yesterday morning I went to the coffee shop as usual and had my coffee with John, but afterwards we decided that we will stop meeting there in the mornings. I then met the ladies (and one man) for our usual Saturday morning walk. It was very cold and windy, and not many of us showed up (maybe ten in total). Although I was bundled up from the tip of my head to my toes, I was very cold for the first part of the walk. Instead of walking down to the bay, where the wind would be horrendous, we walked to a couple of local parks and then headed back. Even as cold as I was in the beginning, I was warm and toasty by the end. Some ladies were going to have coffee together, but I decided to skip it.

This means that every part of my social life has now come to a decision point: what is not already closed will soon be, and meeting my friends for coffee has become dangerous. But this is all necessary in order to flatten the curve, and although I don't think I can avoid the virus, I hope it won't happen until I can at least get tested for it and hope I can stay out of the hospital. Although I am relatively healthy, I am also old and realize that almost everything I like to do can be done from home, and I can self-isolate. I've got all the yoga props and hand weights, so I'll do what I can to keep up my fitness until...

I am scared, not just for myself but for all those around me. We must work hard to become part of the solution, not part of the problem. That means being kind to one another and doing what we can to keep from spreading the virus. I have been in denial as to how bad it is going to get, but this morning I saw on TV the horrible crowds and long lines at airports, as people are just wanting to get home to safety. Fortunately I have a warm and safe place to live (not everybody does), and I have the resources to buy food and pay my rent for the foreseeable future.

I think the world should unite and focus on strong health systems to prepare the whole world to prevent epidemics—or if there is an outbreak, to manage it quickly—because viruses don't respect borders, and they don't need visas.—Tedros Adhanom

This is an unprecedented time in the history of the world, and once we get through it (and we will, eventually, most of us anyway) things will be different. Our world is not only feeling much smaller, but the opportunity to reach out to help one another will be present every day. I don't have to rush to get my post done this morning, since I've got nowhere to go, nobody to see. I will get in my car and go search for a place to get coffee, probably at a drive-up stand, because, well, I'm addicted to caffeine.

My partner still sleeps next to me, and I have never felt so fortunate to have such a delightful person to share this time with, someone who takes care of me and makes me laugh. And even if I become totally housebound, I've still got you, my dear readers, to share my life with. I truly hope you will stay safe and virus free. Or, if not that, at least that you will recover quickly. Until we meet again next week, be well, dear friends.