Isolation Day 84

I am starting with the numbers of COVID-19 deaths and infections today, because everything seems upside-down, don’t you know? The NHS reports just 10 deaths for yesterday in hospitals and confirmed 43 for the day before, while the government ‘s numbers for today are 55 deaths (presumably in all settings) and 1,205 people infected. Can we do a little dance yet? What do you think? Not quite yet? Can’t quite copy New Zealand’s Prime Minister, Jacinda Arden then, just before she was about to announce zero cases of the virus in the country.

We are still in limbo, not knowing what to think or what to do. John has more and more face-to-face hospital appointments, so we presume that the medics think it’s OK to risk it. But we don’t know. And it’s the agony of decision-making that floors you when there’s something nasty lurking in the undergrowth that you can’t actually see, hear or smell. Frozen – the fear of stepping forward and the fear of stepping backwards whilst listening to someone screaming in your ear, but you don’t know which way they are telling you to go.

However, for the time being, we are safe. And I have to smile to myself because each time I think of staying safe, I think of Paul, whose riposte to our: “Take care. Drive safely!” whenever he left the house, was, “Take care! Stay safe in your house!” and a cheeky grinned always followed.

Our day has been ‘same, same’ with a lie-in this morning, then a few exercises, a bite to eat, a bit of TV (in my case for about three hours, watching daytime TV…..), a bit of Lotus tinkering, another bite to eat and so on.

I did change the sheets on Mum’s bed, and I also fiddled about with a ‘picture poem’ for my friend’s (Linda) daughter, Laura. When the pubs are up and running again, she is going to be holding a dog-themed craft fayre at her pub, The Dog Inn, in Whittington. Linda asked us if we could create something. I am not keen on any crafting, so I demurred. Only for Linda to come back to me and say maybe I could write a poem in the shape of a dog? Well, I’ve tried, folks, I’ve tried……… not sure it’ll sell, though.

Before lock down, we had started having big family holidays together, either at Easter or Whitsun half-term. While we were all down in Dewlish a couple of years ago, we went to the seaside at Weymouth and had a good pootle along the front where we found a fabulous shop that sold leather goods, and Paul bought us a beautiful, leather-bound folder as a family album. I have had every intention of putting family stories and photos in it ever since, and have managed one or two items, but really have never quite got going on it. Mostly because I couldn’t think where to start.

However, today I thought I would put all of the blog in it, from the beginning when I started recounting John’s stem cell transplant, through his leukaemia-free journey to now, as I recount our lock down story. I have no idea how it will read but it will, at least, be a memory for the grandchildren in times to come. And it will be a Sleath family record of sorts.

With the backdrop to today’s activities still being #BlackLivesMatter and all sorts of righteous outrage one way or another over the statue of Edward Colston, a slave trader from Bristol, being tipped into the dock yesterday, I have found myself torn between admiring the folks who planned the toppling of the statue and wondering where ‘taking the law into your own hands’ will end. Emotions are running high on both sides of the fence, but it feels like there’s revolution brewing.

Mindful of my ignorance in the area of racism, lots of people have been recommending books to read, and I have started the book ‘My Name is Why’ by Lemn Sissay. I haven’t got very far into it yet, because already it’s a heart-breaking and very challenging read. Courage, mon brave!

So that’s it, folks. That was our day – other than a spat with John after tea about what to do with Mother, it’s been a quiet one. Take care everyone, watch out for things lurking in the undergrowth, and God bless.