So there IS such a thing as society...change starts there.

The Boy Mole Fox and the Horse
Charlie Mackesy

At heart I’m an optimist . I can usually see an upside. In recent years as well I’ve been practicing mindfulness and I do feel gratitude for all I have. And by that I don’t mean stuff, I mean people, I mean love and kindness, I mean all the things money can’t buy. But it’s also having enough to get by, to buy food and wine, to pay bills, to pay for Netflix,WiFi. I’m a struggling optimist this last couple of weeks. I can’t see the upside of this virus and worry about how it will affect us long term. I value not having to rush around and to have time to read and be mindful but in some ways it feels like the eye of the storm. We’re protected from the pain and suffering of others and maybe I’m struggling with survivor guilt in a way?

I’m very aware daily of my privilege. I’m comfortable, I have a house, a garden, great support from my husband and I’m able to do things to keep me engaged and feel useful. But I’m fearful for those whose own lives have been devastated by this virus, for those whose hopes have been washed away, and those who were already struggling with a vicious benefits system. This virus is like no other we have experienced and it’s not only taking lives, it’s changing lives. I do believe some of the changes will be for the better but we have to recognise it’s going to be different. And unless we do something there is a real risk those who are struggling will be left to carry the pain and injustice.

 I suspect what makes me most fearful is that I just can’t trust the Westminster government and it’s behaviour around this our greatest health challenge in one hundred years. I don’t know what is true or what is spin. It’s scary. Our own government in Scotland by contrast is working hard to be transparent, open and honest about what is happening and also about the future. But there remains the interdependence with all of the UK so the complete path is not all ours to navigate. 

Nicola Sturgeon spoke of the new normal and like many I would like that to be kinder with more connected communities. I think we need universal basic services as well as income to take away the social, health and economic impacts of poverty on people and communities. This experience is a confirmation that there is such a thing as society and healthier and happier nations have to start from there.

 So Thatcher was very wrong about there is no such thing as society and neoliberalism has also been shown to fail spectacularly, especially here in the UK with our shocking inequality.  Our new normal should not and cannot be a tweak of the old one but an opportunity to harness the spirit of kindness and connection and build a new country to be proud of. All change starts from communities so like everything, it starts with ourselves. And this time we really need to step up. 

Unlocked

Unlocked

Dropped off with  mobility scooter

 doors opened for me

in the corridor of muted colours,

my guide.

Masks or smiles,

distorted greetings.

Hand gel and thermometers,

lift doors open

to another empty temple.

An echo of a staged performance

without the audience

I settle in a chair.

I’m linked to a drip.

More bloods are taken.

I wait.

I know now how to wait:

the watcher from the chair

A stream of nurses pass to stock trolleys,

with a strange dearth of patients.

I try to disengage from the

grip of anxiety low in my stomach.

I read a book whose title I’ve forgotten.

I text family to reassure them.

I want it to be over.

Finally it is.

I leave in a flourish of hand gel.

Should I have gone? 

For an infusion to prevent cancer?

A hospital visit my only contact with the outside.

My lockdown release,

an incalculable risk benefit

Then I notice the wind in my hair,

the on my face.

Odd glimpses into others lives,

Small boys learning cricket with Dads.

Blossom bursting from colourful gardens.

Kindness from passerby’s,

smiles as we weave a safe path

The Castle in the distance settles me.

It has seen so much.

This too will pass.

I turn into our drive way.

The evening sun calls to us,

‘Join me’ 

So we do.  

Unlocked

Unlocked

Dropped off with  mobility scooter

 doors opened for me

in the corridor of muted colours,

my guide.

Masks or smiles,

distorted greetings.

Hand gel and thermometers,

lift doors open

to another empty temple.

An echo of a staged performance

without the audience

I settle in a chair.

I’m linked to a drip.

More bloods are taken.

I wait.

I know now how to wait:

the watcher from the chair

A stream of nurses pass to stock trolleys,

with a strange dearth of patients.

I try to disengage from the

grip of anxiety low in my stomach.

I read a book whose title I’ve forgotten.

I text family to reassure them.

I want it to be over.

Finally it is.

I leave in a flourish of hand gel.

Should I have gone? 

For an infusion to prevent cancer?

A hospital visit my only contact with the outside.

My lockdown release,

an incalculable risk benefit

Then I notice the wind in my hair,

the on my face.

Odd glimpses into others lives,

Small boys learning cricket with Dads.

Blossom bursting from colourful gardens.

Kindness from passerby’s,

smiles as we weave a safe path

The Castle in the distance settles me.

It has seen so much.

This too will pass.

I turn into our drive way.

The evening sun calls to us,

‘Join me’ 

So we do.  

Impossibly normal, lockdown times

I’ve been writing so many things in my head. Letters to MPs, blogs, book.......But they’ve not arrived on a page until now. I was away for a week and in that time the world, or our world especially was shifting on an axis of fear and preparation. We were in a forest, surrounded by mountains which added to the disconnect between what was real and well-what was also real. My achievement that week was not, sadly, to gain access to the beauties of our surroundings. My mobility scooter is not able to go far in these settings. But I did manage in the hot tub with the aid of a hoist. Bliss. I managed to trust the hoist and the people controlling it to do it twice. We  could see the Loch (Long) recently emerged from its grey, rain fuelled presence to one of sparkling hope. And yet the the snow still defined the tops of the mountains and for that time all seemed impossibly normal.

But our daily fervent study of the news led us to finally accept that we were headed home to lockdown. We even shopped that day. But as I arrived home I had to shiver under several blankets to get warm. It’s just stress and exhaustion with travel I told myself. But when it happened during the night again I realised it was more. I ached and shivered and felt rotten. The cough arrived a few days later and because of asthma I called 111. I got an antibiotic to cover for secondary  infection and told to act as if this was coronavirus. It was then the headache started. Five days later I needed migraine treatment after vomiting and a headache like none I remembered ( I had monthly migraine for 40 years) and things started to improve. I’m breathless still at times but my cough is better. And finally it’s passed leaving me with loss of my taste for coffee and a loss of enjoyment ( taste again I think) for wine. Oh come on that’s just the final straw! No else has had it so I don’t know if it was the virus but it had an impact. I look back on the days my temperature was raised with the fear; a sort of bodily angst. And we’re locked down with our children firmly reminding us of the limits of that. 

I’ve been Housepartying and Zooming like us all but I long for a hug from my family. To take in their familiar smell and feel my body just relax into their presence. I miss my grandsons ready smile, the hugs, high fives and kisses. But we both want to be here when all this improves and so we comply and take each day at a time. 

I remain on cancer treatment and go next week for a preventive infusion for my bones so life goes on in the cancer world too. I guess I’m used to living with a life threatening condition and finding the energy and motivation to just keep going. So there’s part of me that knows this uncertainty of living with the threat of a potentially fatal illness and an even bigger part of me that thinks ‘f***’ you Covid-19, I’ve not gone through all I have to let you get me now!!! 

Like so many of us, I’ve wondered about what will change ( that’s another blog coming soon I hope) and I do know we need to use our agency to enable change not just wait and hope. But I observe with concern that so many are working under huge pressure, simply replacing old patterns with the online version. 

Please STOP going from one zoom meeting to another. Pace yourselves, this is a marathon you need to behave differently for. Online takes a different kind of concentration and long meetings will have adverse effects and be ineffective. Take time to reflect. This crisis has allowed you to change something quickly, what else might service you better? This is a crisis we are living through. As the police chief here said this is a national emergency not a national holiday. We are living with this stress and can’t just ignore the impact on us.

So my final tip is around self care. In a crisis our parasympathetic nervous system comes in to play; our fight flight and we need to manage that. Finding strategies that help you unwind and settle those nerves is crucial just now. Now it might be mindfulness or praying mediations, or music and relaxation, yoga and so on. And it can also be jigsaws, crafting, practical projects, simply breathing ( try the Breathing app, it’s simple and effective), writing, painting, reading those books you’ve always wanted to.....the list is endless all you need to do is make time for it. 

Sending a virtual hug and please stay at home to stay safe and be kind to yourselves.