Yesterday afternoon we sat on Jeff and Susan's deck--at least six feet apart--and chatted. Susan was kind enough to make me two face masks. I borrowed a garden shovel and asked for some Benadryl for my itchy leg. We learned that Katie made a big decision and will be doing her graduate work at Princeton which makes us all happy. But how I feel for Katie ending her college career in this way and having her boyfriend as far away as possible in the continental USA--in Seattle.
We went for a walk along the canal again from the Rocky Hill parking lot. It was warm and quite lovely. There were many little wildflowers along the path--tiny little white and yellow blooms carpeting the ground.We thawed leftover spaghetti from the refrigerator. It tasted great and I didn't have to cook anything new.
The evening wears on with no live sports on TV. We both did some reading. I had a few tears of frustration and loneliness and probably anger. Not everything is blog material And it is a hard time for everyone--for many it is more difficult than for us who do not have children to care for during this time of sheltering in place. We have to cope with the threat of coronavirus like everyone else but also the presence of cancer and it scares me.
So many post on Facebook about the great meals they are fixing or the projects they are doing. I am trying to be content with far less ambitious projects--doing the laundry and fixing meals and reading. It helps me to write in my journals or this blog. This morning I put the moonflower seeds that had been soaking for 24 hours into pots. I had purchased soil on Saturday at Ace Hardware. I have a load of wash started. I plan to walk with my friend Peggy this afternoon and give her some of our great McCaffery's find of hand sanitizer made by Faber Distillery--a usual maker of gin and vodka. I plan to make meat loaf and scalloped potatoes for supper--comfort food. So those are my goals for the day. I downloaded another mystery for my Kindle app because the novels I am reading by Somerset Maugham are too depressing.
Jim just had a telemedicine call for a three month follow up with Dr. Chattha. I am not sure why he had such an appointment scheduled and I did not. It's fine with me. I have no desire to talk to her. If my infected bite does not clear up, I'll have to call the office again and will ask for Dr DelaCruz who heped me last week. The spot is no longer draining but the redness is extensive and it itches. I have three more days of antibiotics to take and am trying to be optimistic. It is definitely better than it was.
So this is life under the Covid19 threat. I need to be thankful for boredom because the disease and the threat of hospitalization is terrible. No visitors are allowed. Ventilators are in short supply. Younger people might have priority which would be fine with me. If you die, you die alone. I'd rather die in my bedroom at home but I know if I can't breathe, I'd panic and go to the ER. Lord God, spare us from that!
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Abram VanEngen posted a piece on Facebook today based on a poem of Hopkins. Abram wrote about entering the darkness of Holy Week and how the disciples didn't know how it would end. Hopkins (and Abram) didn't come up with easy answers about God's teaching us a lesson but said that when we ask where God is, we are wrestling with God as Jacob did and that is a good thing. He ended with these words:
Our hope and our comfort—far from the “carrion comfort” of despair—is that God enters the darkness himself.
I will take the wisdom of a young friend--a young man we knew as a boy--as try to let it come into my soul today.
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