I’ve never been too good at remembering dates. But I do have distinct memories of Feb. 1, 2019.
Why? Because I woke up to water gushing from my basement ceiling, leaving the floor with ankle-deep water. Instantly my greatest concern became restoring my basement from the destruction of a Polar Vortex, that had left nothing remaining in my recreation room, bath, and laundry rooms but piles of wet junk and barely recognizable furniture. Nine months later all was restored!
Yet somehow it seems like quaint history compared to the Coronavirus that now spreads over much of our continent, including America. Hitting the state of Washington in January, then NYC, California, and adjacent states, our fearless leader was much too busy golfing and claiming himself innocent of the ‘witch hunt’ charged against him by members of the House. And this pandemic talk sounded a lot like just another ‘flu’ to him.
Eventually it has become evident that much of the world has been affected by the virus that has jumped from animal to human, leaving more than 843,000 confirmed COVID-19 cases and over 46,000 dead. Businesses have come to a halt, schools closed, everyday citizens wearing face masks, keeping 6-foot distances from one another and people like myself isolated in place for the ‘duration’. Why me? Age. Most deaths from the viruses are occurring to the elderly, thousands to those living in assisted living.
Fortunately I’ve come to truly enjoy and appreciate living alone in my huge Queen Anne home, surrounded by pleasant families. My Personal Trainer, Greg, wearing a mask covering his face from above the nose to under his chin, spraying hand sanitizer over everything he touches with his gloved hands, spends 2 hours here weekly. His work- out activities keep us apart from one another and has made creative use of the front and back stairs in my huge house to push varied work-out balls throughout its interior. Using disinfecting wipes, he covers all the work-out equipment he has used as he departs.
Renee; my most able secretary who keeps me ‘on task’, is here 4 hours a week. Together we tackle the downsizing of too much stuff over the 50 years I’ve lived here. She also wears her face mask and gloves, maintaining a 6 foot distance while teaching me how to use the IP Tablet my daughter gave me years ago. I still can’t figure out how to make it work She also gets rid of stuff in closets, the furnace room, in the shed — that need new places to be. Her ability to reorganize a closet or kitchen and pantry shelves is amazing. She makes appointments to interview folks for performing varied household activities or yard work and runs errands to Trader Joe’s or Walgreens since I have been restricted by my doctor to remain at home during the coronavirus.
Daughter Linda watches me like a hawk, after recovering from an appendicitis attack that kept her hospitalized several days, then sedated another three days when home. Now off drugs, she fixed a ham dinner for herself and husband Nick. He then delivered my dinner basket which he carefully set inside my front door. I noticed he observed the 6 feet required before dashing away.
When finally reaching her doctor, hoping a surgery date was available, he replied, “no elective surgery or retail to go. So sorry!”
We keep in constant contact by phone and an occasional visit accompanied by Molly, the beloved family dog who just loves her grandma. Please follow our adventures as we cope with today’s ‘stay-at-home world’.