Pandemic Diaries Weeks #47 to #49? Or maybe Week #50?

 28 February 2021

 

I know, we all joke about not knowing what day it is during this pandemic. I've tried keeping track of what week of the pandemic we're in, but I seem to have lost a week somewhere.  I thought labelling the blogs by the pandemic week would make sense, and help me keep on top of things.

But no, somehow a week seems to have escaped me.  I only know because week #1 began, for us, on Monday, 16 March 2020, when we awoke to the news that Peru had closed its borders and was closing down all non-essential businesses to slow the spread of Covid-19.  

 

Well, since we're two weeks and three days from 16 March, the beginning of Year 2 Week 1, that should mean we're in week #50 right now.  And I have no clue which week I lost, nor where it went.

 

Not that it matters, at all.  But I like numbers and I like accuracy in my numbers, despite knowing that time is fluid, and our measurements of time and seasons are merely a human construct placed as a way of trying to predict nature and natural phenomena.  So it really doesn't matter to my artistic soul.  But that little part of my brain that enjoys math, numbers, geometry, and problem solving really is not at all happy with having lost a week somewhere.

 

Has everyone seen the wonderful pandemic underwear that two women have designed and marketed?  One day of the week is "Another Day."  There's "This Day," "Who Cares Day," and "WTFDay."  (That's Wed-Thurs-Friday.)  They're absolutely wonderful, and these undies would definitely cheer up any woman's week!  (They only seem to have women's undies at the moment.)

 

Here are two articles, if you don't believe me:  www.stljewishlight.com/news/news_schmooze/getting-cheeky-st-louis-friends-start-pandemic-panties-co/article_a40b76d0-094f-11eb-8356-c781b77aaa85.html

and  www.bizjournals.com/bizwomen/news/latest-news/2020/10/in-her-own-words-pandemic-panties-for-two-friends.html?page=all

 

Pretty funny, if you ask me!  Because we're all at that point of "what day is this?  What week is this?  And how did a single day turn into 33 hours?"

 

I can't believe we've already been in St. Augustine for four months.  It feels as if we've only been here maybe a month.  On the other hand, it also feels like we've been here forever, or at least a year or so.  

 

Because there isn't a great variety to our days.  We have our meals.  Richard goes to physical therapy (so at least we know what day it is if he has PT).  We shop for groceries once a week.  I walk down to check the mail, or I walk to the dock to see what's happening with the tide, the birds, the seasons, or whatever.  Sometimes I sit at the dock just to feel like I'm somewhere other than in this house.  It's a cute house, don't get me wrong, we really like our little house.  And I still love the sunroom, which is where I like to read, write, do my art projects.

 

But that sameness of day in and day out leads to that time warp in our minds.  And other than for any appointments, or important things like whether a favorite TV show is on, it truly doesn't matter what day of the week it is, nor what week of the pandemic it might be.  Okay, well, and when to put out the trash, recycling, or yard waste.  Other than monumentally important events like that, the rest of the week our attitude is "eh."  There isn't much reason to know if it's Monday or Thursday - it's just This Day.  And tomorrow really will be Another Day.

 

At the same time, I'm finding my ability to concentrate has changed.  I used to be able to read scholarly articles and think about what the author said, think about whether I agree or not, try to imagine real-life situations that either prove or dispute what the author has discussed.

Now?  Nah, my brain isn't willing to read the entire article.  I go into fact overload way more quickly than I ever have.  I'm blaming it on that background stress we've all been feeling throughout this pandemic.  Back in my MA program in art therapy, we'd talk about different art symbols that signified "free floating anxiety," meaning anxiety or uneasiness a person might feel that doesn't have a specific cause, reason, focus.  That's how I think of our pandemic stress - it's free floating stress or anxiety, always present, and without anything we really can do about it.

Sure, we can follow the protocols, the guidelines, and the new jargon.  We're self-isolating and social distancing.  I personally am double masking.  We're both using hand sanitizer at the supermarket or the pharmacy, and washing our hands (and masks) when we return home.  

But is that enough?  What if that person over there without a mask is spreading the virus?  What if I missed a spot with the sanitizer on my supermarket cart?  Or when I used the back of my wrist to wipe that hair out of my eyes?  Am I exposing myself to the virus?  Will I get sick?

Yeah, there's always that underlying stress, that free floating anxiety, no matter how much care I might take.

And as more time goes by, more and more friends seem to get sick, no matter that they are following the protocols.  Just in February, three people I know personally became sick or were exposed to someone who became sick, and in all cases someone was hospitalized.  Three people - and in one case, my friend's mother-in-law is the person who became sick, and accidentally infected four family members.  So that's seven people in one month, all people who had managed to NOT get Covid during the previous ten months.

Yup, definitely there's free floating anxiety, whether we want to acknowledge it or not.  

Are you like me, a master at not acknowledging the stress and anxiety?  I know many people who have become pandemic bakers, taking this extended time at home to learn to bake gourmet desserts, or bread, or the ever popular challenge, sour dough bread.  To the point that stores keep running out of yeast.  (I've tried to avoid baking, and focused on healthy chicken and vegetable options for dinner.  Because I know I'm a stress eater.)

Instead of acknowledging that stress and anxiety, which likely won't go away until the world is fully vaccinated or develops true herd immunity, or until I stop thinking about all the mutations this virus has created, I bury myself in light reading, or art projects, or watching the changing tides and nature and birds.  I try to soothe my soul with all of that, and just ignore that yes, I'm feeling vaguely anxious and stressed much of the time.  Because I usually am happy and cheerful, and generally don't feel stressed or anxious much of the time.  I'm usually the Pollyanna of any group.  Except somehow, not right now.

 

So I guess this is me acknowledging all of that.  Me, usually mellow Phebe.  The one whose report cards from first grade onward all talk about how placid and cheerful I tend to be.  Me, who usually can find something funny in any and every situation. 

Nope, not much is funny about living in pandemic times.  Closing in on one year of pandemicking, and only a vague idea of when it might be safe to "go back to normal."  There is absolutely nothing funny about losing a cousin, or our favorite post office guy, to this pandemic.  And truly tragic, the total number of lives lost world wide, and the number of families destroyed by this pandemic.  

But at the same time, I can't dwell on that.  I'm personally not able to be down and depressed, or stressed and anxious, on a full time basis.  I truly am naturally cheerful, and fairly mellow.  

One of my all time favorite quotations is from Jane Austen, who really is my all time favorite author.  She wrote (through Elizabeth Bennet, in "Pride and Prejudice"):  "Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure."

 

Having acknowledged all that anxiety and stress, I'll move along.  And focus on the pleasures of life - flowers, sunsets, migrating birds, changing seasons.  Sunset over the water.  The reflections of the moon over that same water.  Being in Florida as spring approaches.  Being married to my sweetie.  Having a fun and colorful little house, crocheting all sorts of pretty things, appreciating everything that we do have.  

 

And life!  Just joy of just being alive, having accomplished that task.  As we began our year of pandemicking, that was my one and only goal, to keep myself and Richard alive through this pandemic.  Yes, that included getting out of Peru somehow, despite the closed borders.  Finding our way to somewhere warm to winter over.  Getting our vaccines, so that if we do get this virus, we both have a better chance or surviving it.  All of that fits into that goal of keeping us alive.  And thus far, all accomplished!

 

So we have much to be grateful for.  

 

Now if I could only keep that background worrier quiet, it might help.

 

Until then, well, I'll try to lighten up next time.