COVID-19 Diary - Physical Distancing

I saw somewhere - Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? - that perhaps we should call what we're doing physical distancing instead of social distancing. 

I like this. 

I like this because what I'm seeing on social media tells me that we're finding ways to remain social while practicing the physical distance to slow the spread of the Coronavirus. And much of that social interaction is positive. People are sharing links to free online access to the arts. Music. Museums. Books. People are sharing original content, photos, ideas for keeping busy, recipes, etc.

This is a refreshing break from seeing the same meme shared 28 times in a day.

Like the canals in Venice clearing, because the sediment has settled, and the Nitrogen levels over China decreasing, we're adjusting, too. Even if it's in small ways.

Over the last few days, I've talked on the phone more than usual. I've Facetimed with my friend Amy. I video-chatted with my daughter Chloe who is in New Hampshire. And Sophie who is in Georgia. I talked to Grandma Bea. I've talked to my sister. I've talked to my mother who relays my strongly-worded admonishments to my father, as necessary. (Still struggling!)

Everyone is well, but worried. You can just hear it in their voices. 

All this communicating. Talk about having to change habits.

Chloe had a puzzle delivered from Amazon. I dropped it off at Mom and Dad's today so they can stay occupied while they're stuck in the house. I stood across the room from them and tried to touch nothing as we talked about what's happening and how they're feeling.

They have concerns. Like most of us, they're trying to grasp just how long this time of physical distancing will last. I've worked from home for over five years. There have been times when I had to think really hard to remember the last time I'd left the house, apart from walking the dog. I'm good at this. 

But for most people who are used to being able to decide at the spur of the minute to go out to dinner or who remember what day of the week it is because of their weekly scheduled hair appointment, doctor's visit, or lunch with old friends, this is hard. This is habit changing. It's confusing. And, by extension, scary.

At the other end of the age spectrum, we're also trying to stay physically distant from Nathan, his wife Kade, and their one-year-old son Samson. We're taking the stance that the fewer contacts we have, the better. It also means I have fewer names to write on my list of daily contacts. I wasn't kidding in my last post. I'm keeping a list. It might be an Excel spreadsheet. I will neither confirm nor deny.

Because we're being extra careful, this means I can't get my hands on Sam. It's hard. I want nothing more right now than to have his soft cheek smooshed against mine. Instead, I have to settle for seeing him through a window. I'll take it.

Be well. Stay at home as much as you can. Wash your hands. Let's fight this thing.

COVID-19 Diary - We're Not Having Any Fun

I yelled at my father today.

We live in a very small town and I have eyes (spies?) around town. My pals know I'm concerned about my father (83) and mother (81) because both of them have chronic conditions - heart disease, hypertension, and diabetes. Both are overweight. Full disclosure - so am I.

One of my pals mentioned she'd seen Dad out and about. I knew from conversations with my mother that it would be difficult for him to shelter in place during this time of COVID-19. I mean, he's a social guy. Rarely does a day go by that he doesn't go out tootling around town in his car, buying his lottery tickets, picking something up at the store, and driving by my house just for kicks.

But this is getting serious and I've asked him to stop going out just for kicks. I get it. It's tough. It's boring. It's isolating.

But Mom's health isn't great. She's had multiple heart attacks. Both of them caught every cold that passed this way over the winter. My kids and I still laugh at a mess of a Facebook Messenger video that included a wide shot up my mother's nose and both parents announcing that they were sick.

"We're sick here. We're not having any fun."

You don't say.

Today is their 60th wedding anniversary. I'm lucky to still have them. I'd like to keep them around to celebrate their 61st wedding anniversary.

"If you're out around people, you're bringing home germs and passing them on to Mom," I grumped at him.

"I'm going to do what I want."

"If she catches this thing, it's going to kill her. In Italy, doctors are having to choose who lives and who dies. They don't have enough medical equipment to care for everyone."

That got his attention.

Earlier, I'd watched a video of military trucks transporting bodies out of Northern Italy to somewhere else for burial and cremation. They are out of room for all the dead.

"If the hospital has 10 ventilators and 40 sick people who need them, what chance do you think and 81-year-old woman has?" It was a low blow. I'm desperate.

I rooted around in the closet for my extra hand sanitizer forgetting that I'd given it to my son and daughter-in-law a couple of weeks earlier.

"Wash your hands as soon as you get home," I bossed. "And stay home. I can get you whatever you need."

He left under a barrage of my nagging and a wish for a happy anniversary.

"I nag because I love!" I shouted at his retreating back.

I think he knows. He might not like it, but he knows.