Isolation Day 60

‘Normal Lives’. No-one has normal lives. Everyone’s is unique to its owner, but the thing that got me most about the series on BBC3 was how recognisable the situations were. Sometimes confusing but true. And I loved how it ended – the unspoken, unconditional love emanating from the two key characters, essentially saying it’s OK not to be OK; it’s OK to do what’s best for you at a given point in a relationship; it’s OK to let someone go. But love wins. Cracking stuff. As you can tell, I watched the last episode this morning and found it powerful.

Love wins. That’s what getting me through the lock down. I hang on to that daily. What is it for you?

So today, following loving advice from several people for maintaining one’s sanity, I picked out things I wanted to do and mostly did them, unlike other days when I often drift from one half-finished thought to another. I watched ‘Normal Lives’; did a bit of yoga; did a bit of gardening; listened to some music; helped John as he cleared out the gardening shed and watched The Great British Menu.

Nothing exciting, but these were things I chose to do. They were naturally interspersed with things I would rather not always be doing, of course, like the washing; the dishes; cooking; washing the shopping; cleaning and being general dogsbody. My choices leavened the bread, which was rather good.

I think both John and I were excited that the last of the intravenous antibiotic had been administered today, though. No more early starts being a particular relief. I think we both feel tired from it. However, tiredness hasn’t stopped John getting on. He’s feeling a bit better (although not best, yet) and is keen to tackle a variety of jobs. First off today, it was putting together pieces of timber for a cupboard above the freezer. The front still needs to be fitted, but it’s a very good start.

Then, he’s keen to get his ‘man shed’ at the bottom of the garden well-organised, which means clearing out the shed at the top of the garden. You know that horrible dependency thing? Can’t do that until you’ve done this; and then you can’t this until you’ve done the other? Everything seems to hinge on everything else in the ‘tidy up’ stakes, so a bit of a bother to know where to start. Having said that, the ol’ man has done a grand job on the ‘top of the garden’ shed and it’s ready for racking. (Does a little skip and a dance…)

Although tiredness hasn’t stopped John from tackling jobs or me doing what I need to do, it has made both of us a bit irritable and short on patience. So keeping Mum going today has been less than easy. She’s doing her best, but struggling in quite a few ways, and the latest thing today was toast. For lunch, I offered poached egg on toast. “Lovely.” she said. But once she got it, it wasn’t too lovely. Straining to cut the lightly toasted, thinly-sliced pieces of bread, she puffed and sighed a bit. I succumbed, and said with a brightness that I wasn’t feeling, “Shall I cut it up for you Mum?” I cut off all crusts and then cut the slices into small pieces. Or so I thought. The small pieces weren’t small enough, and there was more puffing and blowing as she tried to cut the small pieces in half. Oh, dear, oh dear. I think toast might be off the menu in future. It certainly irritated the socks off John and he felt obliged to eat his lunch elsewhere.

Sadly, Mum isn’t always remembering from one minute to the next, and there is anxiety about what we are going to do after lockdown is eased, but for now, we plod on and do the best we can. Another little toddle in the garden this afternoon, which she was reluctant to do initially, but thoroughly enjoyed once done.

And then there is always the night time ritual which she and I chuckle about but is wearing, nonetheless. I tell her it’s time for bed. She doesn’t want to go. I tell her I am going upstairs to write my diary. She nods and steadfastly watches the TV. Five minutes later, she comes upstairs and tells me, with her halo shining and with an air of righteousness, that she’s going to bed. I smile and look approving, then ask, “Have you had your night-time tablets, Mum?” She looks puzzled for a minute, thinks hard, putting her finger to her chin before saying, “No, I don’t think I have.” She grins, and I always respond with, “I’ll just run down and get them for you then, shall I?” And we both laugh, as if it’s the first time this has happened – which, for Mum, it may seem to be the case.

This is us, today and probably tomorrow and the next day……..

We are getting through it with love, a bit of humour and a bit of hope. Hoping that we will soon be able to see our family – unless there’s a second wave of the darned virus of course. This first wave is waning with government figures showing 3,560 people infected, 234 deaths in hospital, 384 deaths in all settings as of 5 o’clock yesterday; and the latest NHS figures showing 45 deaths as at 5p.m. on 14 May.

I regret I am numb to the numbers now, although still alert (get the connection?) to the virus in our midst. Hoping that none of the nurses have brought it into our home and that we will be able to live ‘normal lives’ again, sooner rather than later, that involves proximity to our loved ones.

With love to you all – may you be protected and loved every day of your lives.