So I am in my third day of isolation, probably wishing that Janice and I had got this together but for her father’s sake I have taken to my Covid cave.
Those who journeyed with Soul Surmise through the more intense Coronavirus Days will know that I loved the lockdown. Janice and I are both only children and in our natural habitat introverted so we loved those 100 days in Spring 2020, resting from the hard work of crowds, alone with family, a film every night and that neighbourhood dog walk.
So, I thought I’d be up for isolation, even when our friend Doug warned us about it. I am not. I have discovered that with Janice I am on my own but without Janice I am lonely. So romantic!
How do I feel? Thank you for every inquisitive text and message!
I am fine. Occasionally I feel a fraud. Today when I took the test I was sure it would be say “it’s just a heavy dose of Stockman cold”. That “Stockman" should read “Luke” as the Stockman cooter (her word for nose) was my Granny whose maiden name was Luke and that is runny nose branch of family tree. My dad, me and my daughter Caitlin have it.
Who’d have thought that that Stockman cold would have so much in common with third year Covid. It’s all about blocked noses and the sinus induced headaches that go with. I have had only a mild throat ache. The blocked nose seems bedded in for a longer haul than usual. There is no doubt a little more fatigue BUT not unbearable.
All of this makes me thankful for a few things.
Firstly, that the Stockman cold has for generations been preparing me for such a time as this.
Secondly, the vaccines. We think back just two years and what I have was a killer. Prayers for a vaccine and those who worked the answer in hospital labs should not be forgotten or taken for granted. From a killer to an elongated Stockman cold. I’ll take the latter with gratitude!
Thirdly, the messages and prayers rushing in from everywhere. The advice. The reassurances. Thank you.
Back to the isolation. How long? Janice is just there but so far away. She and her dad are reading in the garden under a Ballycastle blue sky while I am in this cave.
There are a few freedoms. I’ll just nip over to Maud’s. That walk on the beach on a night as amazing as tonight’s is going to be. That lack of control when the slat is not on the poached egg as it arrives by the door, like prison food. Oh it is much nicer of course and I am thankful but isolation is about loss of control and a lesson in what we take for granted.
Maybe that is the retreat I should turn this into. Not an inconvenience but an invitation to make the most of it.