A Grannie Rocket?

 A side effect of spending time at home is seeing what might be done in the house with some investment. From being a young adult in our first home we’ve always prioritised holidays over home improvements. And being busy with work and life and children etc I have always been easily distracted from what needed done. Even when we could only scrape enough money to pay the essentials we would still rather pack up a tent and head off. Also spending time with family was and is always the priority. So  redesigning dining rooms for example could always wait.

Until this year. 2020. 

Who knew what you could achieve with time, energy and money saved by sitting at home. So we’ve had a lot of boxes arrive, redecorating to arrange, cushions to chose and we have a completely different room. I’m delighted with it. Cara especially likes to lie on the sofa while I’m working at the table. It feels so bright and yet comfortable. The sofa becomes a bed if you want it too and at times I’ve needed to know I didn’t have to climb the stairs when I’m most in pain. 

My pain has been worse of late. I’m sure the added stress of the resurgent virus and the loss of not seeing and holding family is part of this too. Pain is a complex mix of the physical , mental and social context and who could pretend that any of those is ideal just now. 

So our final investment is a stairlift. I’ve given in to my need but to say I resent it would be to understate the situation. The cost of over £4,000 is the worst part. I know I need to love it now but that’s a big stretch for me. I do love not being anxious and in pain every night when I go to bed. I have also regained some mobility around the house. 

Koshka the cat is horrified by it, a machine too far for his cosy life. By contrast I’m sure Cara would get on it, if it got her to our comfy bed when we are not looking! My son suggested to his son that Grannie has got a rocket. A Grannie rocket! I have no doubt it will be a source of endless entertainment for Davie. Maybe someone can love it! A friend suggested pimping it up. Suggestions are welcome.....

I have got through breast cancer awareness month without thinking much about it or buying something pink. I just couldn’t open that box of fears which has been safely tucked away of late. We lost another friend to breast and ovarian cancer just recently. She had such a terrible year but held on to life. Her nails painted and ever glamorous at least for the outside world. She was so kind and welcoming to me 40 years ago when we met. She and her husband died within a month of each other. We’ve been grieving for them both. The rules of the pandemic have destroyed our rituals for grief and saying goodbye. We need new ones and we epspcially need human connection. I’m missing that so much.

I’m not sad to see the back of October. But what will November bring? 

Facing fears in October

 

Just one of those days when you want to coorie in. It’s already October with the vibrant autumnal  colours arriving so soon after a sunnyish September. Strange that it comes with the inevitability of more lockdown restrictions, pushing our heads a little lower. I’ve socks on and out come the boots again. A benefit of not really being able to walk any distance outside means your shoes don’t wear out. There you are, jealous now? 

October 1st, I was tidying ( oh stop...I have been known to tidy) and found my printout from the genetics department. No one expected it to be positive for a BRCA gene. BRCA2 with all the accompanying percentage risks. A 45%-85% risk of breast cancer. Well that train left the station and had a few stops along the way. Then I saw an article on BRCA2 and it dawned on me, it’s the start of breast cancer awareness month. A weariness settled over me. I’ve put the cancer to one side of late. I’ve donated my breasts and ovaries to the cause of ridding my life of that gene so I think I’m entitled to try to forget about it. After most cancer diagnoses I’ve had, I’ve gone up and down the roller coaster of denial, overwhelm, fear, then that unstable path to integration into my sense of who I am. The path is unstable because each spell of pain, of fatigue, of headaches, of coughs bring back the paranoia and the cold fear. I taught myself to control these impulses to seek medical advice. Because that could result in more fear. A bone scan, an MRI, a CT and off we go. A gnawing fear covered by the logical and usually correct claim that it’s nothing to worry about. But when you are in that scan and during the wait for results the fear sits like a dragon guarding the cave, knowing that if you find yourself in the grim  cave of cancer treatment, life will never be the same. 

Adding Covid-19 to the mix of health concerns means we’re distracted. In the week President Trump is in hospital because of Covid-19 ( if you can’t say anything nice, say nothing!!!!!......) the reality of the risk is clear. And our lives shift so quickly. Mine shifts in a wheelchair or scooter. I started to read about the percentages of disabled people who died from Covid and I quickly put it to one side. Another one to pack away, follow the advice and get on with life, masked and turned away from human connection. It’s so all consuming.

It has occurred to me that I might not notice any changes that would previously taken me to a GP.

Or to the breast clinic. Those late diagnoses with cancer and heart disease so easy to understand when we re focussed on trying to survive Covid with all its tricks. 

BUT it is October and breast cancer or any other hasn’t disappeared just because we want it to.

So here are the signs and symptoms of breast cancer, an early diagnosis is still the best predictor of a good outcome. 

Go well, stay safe and find a way to make a virtue of this aberrant winter. But we must still remember to bring our compassion and help to those who are taking the brunt of this vicious virus and who feel the cruelty of a state unwilling to financially protect its most vulnerable. My greatest fear this October is for them. 

The tentacles of Covid 19

                                                            Crail, East Neuk of Fife 
 There is a sadness in our home just now. An old friend has died very unexpectedly and he’s with us, in our desire to have said goodbye, to have hugged him when we saw him last. His wife is also very ill but the curse of visiting restrictions means we haven’t seen her at all. Will this awful virus never lose its tentacles on our so vulnerable lives. A friend dying unhugged or unseen is a loss unaccounted for in the daily tally.

Or a family member, locked down in a care home; again unseen and unhugged. Locked down, even the words make me shiver. And when the home developed a system to see family members, it was through a Perspex screen, accompanied by a carer and communication was through a phone. The similarities to prison life not lost on anyone. And what is their offence? It’s getting frail, older and to become the unseen; protected from viruses and hidden from life.

For a time the families’ rebelliousness meant daily meetings in the car park were allowed but now even that has gone. 

The virus is spreading and moving into the seasons of darkness, it feels like a new phase again. Another challenge to be faced. The loo roll mountains have yet to be gathered so it can’t be too bad, can it? Our city Edinburgh has escaped a festival bombardment this year, but still the tourists come with their big coats and rucksacks on, ready to clatter over our cobbles and stare up at the scenery, that still thrills me with it’s beauty. I’m so ambivalent towards them. I want to say go home, stop sharing your viruses with us. And yet I welcome their colour and chatter. At the heart of lockdown the city scared me with it’s closed, austere facade. An opening scene of a disaster film but the disastrous effects as yet still hidden in its empty streets. I fear a return to that and yet I wonder at those visitors so confident in their health they tackle airports, planes, taxis, hotels and bars. 

We however are not straying far, my boldest step so far two nights in my friends caravan. We talked, hid from the rain, wondered about the future and peeped out in the sun when we could. 

It was so enjoyable to have that time together but I noticed a need to be home as well as soon as our time was over. I just managed to climb into the van, so different from last year. My other grief this year is the recognition I’m getting worse. I ordered a stair lift this week. Grannies’ stair rocket said our son. I fear our grandson may be disappointed at the speed of this rocket.

Our grandsons birthday party lit up our world this week. In spite of a range of lovely gifts, a plastic ball and a bubble machine were what lit up his day. It’s the little things as ever that please.

And for us the ability to share it with him was the best gift of all. Holding those we love close is our theme just now and probably for some time to come. And like bubble machines and plastic footballs it feels almost as fragile. But as a wise doctor once said to me, there will be better times, especially if we recognise what and who matter most. 

Who knew it would be hugs

 

Who knew it would be hugs

that were our undoing?

Those taken for granted

moments

where we gather

to connect.

Our hearts meet

clasped carelessly 

and we feel

each other’s warmth.

Sometimes it’s more hesitant.

Is this Ok? 

The boundaries of 

our friendship are defined

in that moment.

Maybe a brief awkward 

touch of shoulder.

Or an envelopement

that secures a friendship.

A synchronisity of touch

that celebrates our affection.

Those warm embraces

restore a sense of equilibrium.

The family embrace 

that can say So

much more than

words. The clasp

a little longer

even a flutter of kisses

as we leave 

or arrive.

I’m so greedy

I often want both.

Give Grannie a hug?

I call with trepidation.

Mostly it’s a fly by

catch with a giggle.

These moments are

tucked away. 

A squirrled collection 

of connection

Of love.

Hugs

I yearn for them. 

No vaccine for compassion.

Up Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh 

Today, in Scotland, shielding ends. If you are reading this in the future I don’t know if you can really appreciate the importance of this for some people. As I wasn’t properly shielding ( no letter for me) but being very careful, I’ve been a bit more mobile in the last couple of weeks. But I remain very cautious. It’s a bit like a slow motion Hokey Cokey without the fun. I’m back as quick as I’m out and I relax only once I get through the door. It will be so hard for people until they gain confidence.

I’ve lost some mobility, perhaps that would have happened anyway, but it’s making stairs harder. And so another bit of independence is eroded. COVID-19 is shaping the advice against taking holidays abroad. For us it would feel a mountain to climb to holiday abroad on our own anyway. We’re planning a trip to the north of England  to see my much loved sister-in-law and I’m fearful as the numbers slowly rise around there.  I want to parachute in and out again but I’m not sure that’s recommended with my spinal problem either! Let’s face if you’d never get me out the plane....

Life was complex before COVID-19 and now it’s shifted on another axis and we don’t know how it will end. Edinburgh has tourists again and even tour buses but the streets are changing as shops and restaurants close there doors forever. The untold stories of precious jobs lost and businesses  sadly turning into empty shells. Of course we will adjust in time but those of us who live through this transition will be most affected. Life as it was before is like a snowflake melting on our hands. We think of it’s earlier unappreciated glory as it disappears before our eyes.

As I look back on a time when I flew up and down to London so often, it was as familiar as the 27 bus, I know my life would have been so different with zoom to allow me to connect meaningfully, instead of life being lived through the fabricated lens of an airport. I would have bought less MAC eyeshadow and invested more in relationships at home. For people still worked that way, this lockdown will have been life changing. I would have been able to go to yoga and read more books. I would have had less long and often lonely evenings in airports or on trains just wishing that I was home.

But many charities like the ones I worked for, have lost significant income and some are even talking of redundancies so those benefits for people like me are coming at a cost to so many. It’s sad that changes that are enabling so many to have more balanced lives have only been realised as a result of a massive public health disaster. We see the digital inequality in our society widen and deepen the existing inequalities . Such divisions are unsustainable and cause another kind of public health disaster. If we look the other way when so much poverty is visible, I’m afraid to imagine what might be the impact.

Reflecting, as I’m writing, is helping me understand that my fear just now is not just for the virus  but for a further polarised society. So with earthquake style cracks opening under our feet, yes put your mask on and wash your hands but please let’s contribute to closing those cracks and open our hearts ( and willingness to pay tax or similar). Maybe the answer is to invest in universal basic income and universal services and make social justice a reality. This will take time but if we don’t start now, the virus will eat at the very heart of who we are as a nation or community. There’s no vaccine for that. 

Stars of lockdown

Koshka plotting...

And he won....of course 

I was on a zoom call earlier and the window cleaner was washing the windows. I was very spooked initially but then it got me thinking about some earlier days when I worked at home. It wasn’t the norm but that day I had a tricky call to make then a report to write and I decided that on that winter day I would work from home. The pets were delighted to have me there and I’d forgotten how much their need of attention was less than helpful. 

I decided to sit by the Christmas tree and put their lights on so I was lifted from the December gloom. I had my laptop balanced hopefully alongside Fruin the cat who would only settle on my remaining lap. 

Robbie the golden retriever finally went to sleep with a toy in his mouth ( it’s a retriever thing-it’s often underwear that’s stolen only to be presented to people who come to the door). All was quiet so I made myself pick up the phone and make that phone call which was too easy to put off. 

I steeled myself and dialled the number. They answered and so the conversation began.

I didn’t know the window cleaner was coming. 

I noticed him first at the end of the house. I held my breath, would the dog notice. Oh yes he did. 

He stood up and barked as if Count Dracula was washing the windows. The toy dropped out of his mouth with a clatter. That set off the grotesque singing Christmas tree. My sister bought it to tease my husband one year. Why had we kept it and why was it switched on? Any movement set it off, so to add to the mayhem of Robbie barking, the cat clinging on to me as I tried to get up and close the door, a tinny version of Rocking around the Christmas tree began at volume. My credibility was crawling out the door.....looking back I’m only glad it wasn’t zoom although some telling oaths may have been muttered! 

Then working from home was unusual, now it’s my life. But since lockdown it’s mostly  with video. I know we’ve all learned the smart top, comfy leggings routine but managing the pets is a whole new level of difficulty. Back in the day when you had to stand up as you answered the house phone, our male retrevier used to take the opportunity to hump your leg. Trying to keep your voice even whilst shaking off a very persistent large dog is no mean feat. Although his peak moment was when I had to pull him off the Minister who had come to visit. He had spent the hour telling Robbie how beautiful he was,so what’s a dog to do? 

It’s a rainy day of ‘summer’ today and I’m reminiscing whilst this generation of cat and dog play the , ‘who gets the bed’ routine. Earlier this week I was distracted by the cute wee dog shuffling along the top of the sofa to sit almost on the shoulders of the Chair of thé meeting. Initially he looked like a cuddly toy. The next meeting it was a cat that intervened. But my favourite cat moment of lockdown was with another man of the cloth. There is something especially wonderful to see something unfold that the présenter is totally unaware of. Of course the stars of lockdown pets have to be Olive and Mabel. If you haven’t seen them do click on the link.

OK. Maybe I need to stop writing, have my shower and start the day. I have a friend visiting, in person! I’ve forgotten how that works......I’m noticing how much more comfortable I am staying in. Lockdown has shaken my confidence. I guess it will gradually return? 

Anyone for the pub?

So I’ve used knitting projects to help me get through lockdown. It’s really helpful as it’s mindful and you get to create something for people you care about. That part is especially satisfying. I’m also writing something which is taking time and not just energy but emotional energy. I hope in time it will be valuable. 

Now I’m telling you this because it’s not leaving much space for writing my blog. And life is still in a very predictable pattern which in some ways is comforting and creates a boundary it’s difficult to breach. Not because it will result in anything terrible ( hopefully) but it feels safe. England are opening the pubs today. I can’t be alone in thinking I’m going nowhere near a pub once they open in Scotland. I live in a city with a plethora of pubs, many with ancient history’s of body snatching, stories of loyal dogs, of hauntings or famous visitors. Our pubs have books describing them, there are many pub crawls and even literary ones. 

In a medieval city, they tend to the cosy and dark. Good luck with two meter distancing or disabled access for that matter. The days are long passed where we enjoyed a late night drink in the Grassmarket  and bought fresh rolls in the local bakery to soak up some alcohol before we headed to bed. The old Royal Infirmary was so close to a local pub you could page the on call doctor so they had to leave behind their pint and head back to the ward. ( yes that was a long time ago when rules were made to be broken or just ignored). 

The Old Royal Infirmary Edinburgh 

This city has seen plagues come and go, had hospitals for tuberculosis and special wards for  polio patients. It was where the first big outbreak of HIV and AIDS were identified. Part of the  hospital that housed the specialist wards and ICU for COVID 19 was initially the poorhouse. And of course it’s had asylums for people coming back from wars with shell shock and those whose mental health issues took them away from society. They even housed women who were pregnant out of wedlock who were never allowed home. Edinburgh notoriously dealt with the plague victims in a terrible way. Mary Kings Close now tells of the bricking up of 300 residents to stop the spread of the plague. Leith Links is on top of mass graves as are parts of Bruntsfield. 

Mary Kings Close-the buried City underground 

I’m taking comfort from this potted that times do change and even pandemics that fundamentally have changed the way we live will pass. But not without a terrible impact like those gone before. I would love to see a special garden dedicated to those who suffered during this pandemic. A place where people can mourn their loved ones as this pandemic has robbed many of the normal rituals of grieving. 

But that’s not going to help the thousands who have lost and are losing their jobs. I’m fearful for them too when our social security system is so punishing and the opportunities so few. The balance between protecting health and protecting the economy is incredibly challenging. But encouraging people back to pubs as they are in England seems to  put economy before health and that feels scary from my position in Scotland. Ours has definitely been more of a slow easing and personally I’m grateful for that. But as we witness inequalities widen we must as a compassionate society be prepared to invest in supporting the most vulnerable economically too. 

And not as charity donations, welcome though they will be; this needs to be a fundamental shift from neoliberal economics to investment in all our citizens futures. Crisis can lead to wide scale change if we let them.