One day when the coronavirus threat recedes and things return to normal, if I begin to forget what life was like during this bizarre period, I may want to look back at some of my diary entries...
By PATRICIA CARMELON APRIL 18, the writer’s birthday, her granddaughter makes her a cake and the grandkids sing happy birthday from the other side of the garden fence.(photo credit: Courtesy)
One day when the coronavirus threat recedes and things return to normal, if I begin to forget what life was like during this bizarre period, I may want to look back at some of my diary entries...March 15: I cancel a dentist appointment and go to the supermarket. To be more accurate, I go to two supermarkets because in my local one, there is no toilet paper. In the second one, I swipe the last packet of toilet paper off the shelf. The supermarket visit is reminiscent of the worst days of the Second Intifada when you’d wonder if the person next to you checking out the apples was wearing an explosive belt. Now I look with suspicion at a fellow shopper who might unwittingly infect me with the virus.I go home and I don’t leave my house again until April 26, when I don a mask and take a 23-minute hike along the rural path across from my home.March 29 to April 7: Like grief, feelings about being incarcerated for weeks inside my home go through a number of stages. I was lonely during the first week. For the first time since becoming a widow, I yearned for the presence of another human inside the house, one I could share a funny video with, one who would tell me that my cough wasn’t dry and there’s no need to worry. I considered fostering a dog.I was frightened. The virus hadn’t yet gained traction in Israel; the number of afflicted was still in the 10s; the first fatality occurring a week later. Then suddenly, the government was reporting hundreds then thousands of people sick and dozens of people dying a horrific and lonely death. I stopped my obsessive checking of statistics. I’m in the high-risk age group and every morning I wake with a dry throat – a normal occurrence during seasonal changes, but cause for hysteria in these days of coronavirus.I sought comfort from data. At least children and young adults are at less risk of this disease than people of my age, so I’m not as anxious about my grandchildren and children as I would have been. It’s the elderly with underlying medical conditions who are most at risk. I belong to the former but I don’t suffer from the latter. What else can I use to assuage my fears? Well, I’m a woman and apparently men are afflicted more often than women. And early on, there was a theory that people with blood-type A are more vulnerable than people with blood-type O. All well and good – but I’m blood-type B. I looked in vain for information about where people with my blood type are on the vulnerability scale but there was none to be found. Why? If you prick me, do I not bleed type-B blood?I’m enjoying life. This is a very privileged form of incarceration. In my warm, comfortable home, I lack for nothing, not even toilet paper. My daughter brings me groceries and on weekends, cooked meals. Compared to the pandemic of a century ago, we who live in the digital age can continue to communicate with family and friends, albeit virtually. Imagine what it would’ve been like in London, 1665. Imagine what it’s like now for the homeless or people in camps. I’m enjoying the slow pace of my days – no rushing to be somewhere on time and arriving late – although when I get into bed at night, I wonder where the day went. Every day, I discover another silver lining.These are coronavirus silver lining takeaways, in no particular order:• When it’s pouring rain, I don’t have to worry about the kids out driving because I know they’re safe at home.• I’m not constantly stressed to be somewhere on time.• I have time to sit in the garden and read a book.• I swab my phone with alcohol and the screen has never been so unsmudged.• I don’t feel guilty about binge-watching on Netflix.• I don’t have to share my chocolates (black cloud takeaway – I don’t have to share my chocolates).• I can eat garlic.• I have more one-on-one time with my big granddaughters on WhatsApp video calls.• My granddaughters bring me special foods they’ve prepared (scones, birthday cake, sushi).• The planet is rejuvenating.• I can enjoy dinner with friends on Zoom without having to prepare masses of food and then wash up the dishes.• I’m hardly spending any money – money goes on groceries and gym classes on Zoom.April 8: For the first time, all my kids and grandkids are in the same virtual room together for the Passover Seder. My elder son in New Zealand drags himself out of bed at 4 a.m. and zooms off back to sleep 20 minutes later; my kibbutz son and family zoom over to his partner’s family and I stay Zooming with my daughter’s family and her in-laws. It is a little awkward; everyone is singing to a different rhythm and at times a different melody, but it is a unique Seder and for that quite special. The togetherness is not less, just expressed differently.April 18: It’s my birthday, a birthday spent with no hugs or family meal. My granddaughter made me a cake and the grandkids sing “Happy Birthday” from the other side of the garden fence. A huge bunch of flowers was delivered yesterday by a man in a mask and gloves. And I Zoom with my loved ones, my whole family in the same virtual room at the same time, once again. It is a unique birthday. Again, the feeling of being loved is not less, just expressed differently.April 28/29: Memorial Day for Israel’s Fallen/ Israel’s Independence Day – For the first time in years, I watch the Memorial Day ceremony, which, this year, is held at the Western Wall. Although living in isolation, I feel a more profound connection with our national mourning than in any other year. The following evening, the municipality makes an effort to bring some Independence Day cheer to the community with a drive-by festooned with blue-and-white balloons, blaring Israeli songs and the honking of the car horn. The drive-by coincides with my granddaughter bringing me homemade sushi. My restraint breaks and I lunge to enfold her in a hug.April 30: My children and grandchildren are in my house – physically. I can touch them. And I do. I hug the younger ones. We’re wearing masks, but it’s impossible to maintain a distance of two meters from each other. Later, I go for a long walk with my daughter and her family to the fields just outside the town. While I’ve been isolated at home, nature has adorned the Earth with daisies and poppies.Are we getting complacent? I’ve stopped obsessively swabbing groceries with alcohol. It was always an exercise in futility anyhow, because there was inevitably a surface or item that I’d neglect to swab, rendering the sterile status of the swabbed items superfluous.The stats look good. Right now, more people have recovered from the virus than are sick with the virus. Is this what happened in the pandemic of 1918 when social distancing rules were relaxed only for the deadly flu to hit even more severely in two subsequent waves?May 3: Children are going back to school, stores are opening, normal life is returning in a chaotic, randomized and non-orchestrated fashion. Government directives are unclear and seemingly arbitrary. We, the people, are confused. I am ambivalent. I haven’t found the lockdown particularly onerous. On the contrary, I’ve enjoyed is benefits and barely suffered from its restrictions. If my only casualties of the lockdown are discomfort from an ingrown toenail, toothache, weight gain and hair color that reminds me of my roots, I will feel truly blessed.But I’m also feeling that it’s too early to return to routine. I have an almost panicky feeling that there are things I still need to do before I can return to normal life but I have no idea what those things are.Isolation has been a haven and I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave it.
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