Crazy Times

 

Last week I had an appointment with my oncologist. Not to worry, it was a routine check up after breast cancer last year. The doctor started off the conversation with asking how I was in these “crazy times”. To which I replied, “Fine, since I actually have an excuse to get out of the house.”

 

It is crazy times when a visit to the oncologist counts as cause for celebration. It’s also a bit of crazy times when I count myself lucky to have been diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago rather than now. Back then, all I had to worry about was surgery and radiation.

 

Now, in the midst of a pandemic some people have had to put off treatment; others have delayed medical screenings and may face more advanced diagnoses than they otherwise would have; and some need to worry about their particular vulnerability to a virus, which has claimed more than 215,000 American lives, while undergoing otherwise life-saving treatments.

 

As I told the doctor, I also was happy to discover that I still remembered how to drive—the skill came back, sort of like riding a bicycle. Maybe that will lead to a new saying, “Oh, it will come back—sort of like driving a car.”

 

Contrary to what this may sound like, I am not a recluse or home-bound. We go for a walk in the park every day. Though I found it odd that my husband, who has been out more than I have since he does most of the grocery shopping, said he planned to drive downtown to deliver our ballots, even though there is a drop-off site much closer to our home. He explained, “It will be fun to drive somewhere different.” Who can argue with that?

 

And we have a lot of social contacts, albeit in different formats. We talk with our sons and their families by phone regularly, email with friends, zoom with book club and other groups, and as special treats (for us) FaceTime with grandkids. 

 

I was happy to learn from our 16-year-old granddaughter with her newly-minted driving permit, that she is practicing driving in the car I had used to pick her up at daycare. Many years ago when she was a mere toddler, she told me she liked my car best “because Grandma’s car talked”. (Since I’ve always been “challenged” by directions, I had one of the earliest GPS devices.)

 

Also, since we last saw our teenage grandkids in person BP (during the time Before the Pandemic), we keep track of their heights by asking for comparisons. Not all that surprisingly, our 13-year-old grandson’s height no longer is compared to either his mother or sister but now we ask if he is taller than his father.

 

My oncologist predicted it will be at least a year before life and travel return to something approaching BP. I certainly hope we are able to visit with our grandkids in person before our grandson reaches that milestone and while we can still recognize them. 

 

In the midst of a pandemic there have been other historic disasters. And I’m not even referencing our President. Unprecedented natural disasters are announced on the news every night: fires of over four million acres, hurricanes hitting the same place twice in one year, so many hurricanes meteorologists had to move to the Greek alphabet to name them all.

 

Meanwhile, even as Mother Nature causes destruction in multiple locales, she provides some consolation in others. Despite these crazy times in which we live, autumn in the Ohio River Valley is as gorgeous as ever I recall. The golds, yellows, and reds are particularly vivid. The combination of rain, cool, and decreasing sunlight have worked their magic on the leaves to create a spectacular palate of nature.

 

Last night I chanced to look at the sky just before dark. The sky appeared to be painted with psychedelic bands of reds and purples at sunset. I am trying to sear these images into my visual memory to sustain me until we emerge from crazy times. 

Social Distancing—New Approaches

I know this post is supposed to be about new approaches to social distancing. I promised I will get to that if you bear with me. Plus, bears will come into play,  sort of, before I am done.

Despite the pandemic, those of us with our five senses more or less intact can enjoy nature and our immediate environment.  Hearing beautiful music. Seeing a spectacular sunset or just the smile on a loved one’s face on Zoom. Smelling chocolate-chip cookies baking. Tasting those cookies, sizzling sausages, or sweet chilis. Touching your dog’s soft fur. Each sense in in its own unique way enhancing our experiences of life. Or not.

My spouse claims I have a sense of smell as good as a bear. He heard on one of those National Geographic’s programs that a bear’s sense of smell is ten, or a hundred, or some multiple, times keener than a dog’s. I suppose he means by this exaggeration that I should count myself lucky. My husband needs to set a timer if he’s cooking, and have me sniff the milk to see if it’s gone sour. On the other hand, I can tell by smell alone when those chocolate-chip cookies are ready to come out of the oven. I could have picked our sons from all the other babies at the hospital nursery by smell alone. You get the picture—not exactly bear-like. But I do tend to notice smells.

Today I do not feel at all lucky to have a good sense of smell. Our collie was skunked when I let her out in the yard late last night. The poor dog was dripping skunk juice from her face when she ran back to me. 

She must have seen the skunk from our deck because she flew off of it and chased the critter until crashing into our fence. Sometimes I wish my sight were as keen as my sense of smell. Even with the outside lights on I didn’t see any critter. 

After the too close encounter with the skunk our dog and I took a midnight shower.  Again, despite not feeling all that lucky, we had a bit of good fortune to still have de-skunking shampoo from long-ago skunk encounters by a previous collie. And even more amazingly, my spouse could locate said shampoo on short notice. 

Until the pandemic we had grown accustomed to having our dog bathed and brushed by a groomer. Our technique for showering a large collie dog came back to us. I got in the shower first. My spouse pushed our recalcitrant and extremely smelly, 70-plus-pound dog into the shower with me and closed the door. After I bathed her I let her out to be dealt with further by my spouse while I thoroughly showered and scrubbed myself.  

It was well after midnight by the time we had washed everything our dog or we had come into contact with. Even though our still-skunky smelling dog was relegated to sleeping in sunroom with the windows opened and the door to the rest of the house closed, I had trouble sleeping because of the skunk smell. 

My at-times-saintly spouse got up early and walked skunky dog and then gave her a second bath, utilizing a method very similar to what we had used the night before. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I drank a cup of coffee, which was ruined by the persistent skunk smell, and went back to bed.

I now have taken a second shower with scented body wash, washed my hair thoroughly, put just about everything into the washer again and have sat down to tell you the best way to social distance. I doubt anyone with a nose will want to get within 20 yards of us. But I empathically do not recommend it as your first choice. 

Happy skunky 4th from us. I’ve had more than enough fireworks. I sure hope yours smells better than ours.

Two Brilliant Ideas for Surviving in the Time of Coronavirus

I have two unrelated, but brilliant ideas. Both are almost too good to be true, but for totally different reasons. 

I am a little reluctant to share these ideas, again, for totally different reasons. Nevertheless, an obnoxious sense of do-goodery compels me to share them here with you, dear readers. Make of them what you will. 

First, and most importantly, is an idea that definitely will slow the spread of coronavirus. Since I don’t tweet or reddit or whatever it is most non-senior citizens do, this idea will require a little help. Perhaps a younger person could make it go viral, or, alternatively, someone who is on Fox TV and is willing to help out for the good of America. Please share this idea. You can even claim it as your own: 

President Trump or his campaign needs to start making and selling “Make America Great Again” masks. 

Dr. Fauci testified today that new coronavirus cases could hit 100,000 a day in this country if we don’t do something. The half of this country where the virus is spreading faster than wildfire also is where many people are unwilling to wear masks. Is it because of whatever political statement a mask may imply? Or because they watch only Fox news and listen only to the President and believe their lies? Or because they just don’t care about their fellow humans. Or some other undecipherable reason?

I don’t know the reasons for their refusal to be guided by scientific facts. But if President Trump were to combine his greed and his campaign slogan with just an ounce of concern for his followers, he would have a recipe for slowing the spread of coronavirus. His followers would buy and wear masks and forget that he ever said masks weren’t needed. The virus would ease its spread in Trump-country and maybe we could all go back to something approaching normalcy a little sooner. 

 My only hesitancy is I will hate to see that sea of red MAGA masks on his followers’ faces. Don’t get me wrong: we do need to make America great again, after the destruction Trump has brought to American lives, our economy, and Constitutional safeguards. But I’m hoping we will get that chance in November. In the meantime, I would like to save MAGA lives. See what I mean about my tendency towards do-gooderism?

I also am reluctant to share my other, totally-unrelated suggestion. For a totally different and much more selfish reason: I do not want to create a toilet-paper-like “run” on a product I have decided is miraculous. Chia Seeds. Please be assured that chia seeds’ potentially new-found popularity and shortages are the only relationship they have to toilet paper.

I discovered that chia seeds are the easiest “cooking” product ever. I’m still not sure how you pronounce the name (much like my problem with quinoa for quite a while). I can’t recall what led me to buy two pounds of organic chia seeds on Amazon during one of my online shopping frenzies at the start of the shutdown. I think perhaps I was envisioning a bunker with our kids and grandkids staying with us and someone knowing what to do with chia seeds. That never happened. 

Our kids and their families stayed safely ensconced in their own homes, many miles from us. We all sort of established our own home bunkers. And I was left to deal with the results of many ill- or well-advised hasty, online purchases. Though I will say I never acquired a humongous stash of toilet paper I now have large quantities of strange items in our pantry and cabinets.

Yesterday, because my spouse was getting tired of moving the two-pound jar of chia seeds around in the pantry, I looked up chia recipes for the first time. The results of my experiments, unlike some of my other baking and home projects, turned out great. I now am keeping the chia seeds in a place of honor and prominence. 

You can mix a few chia seeds with water (Online recipes tell you how much to use.) in substitution of eggs in baking recipes; you can make very easy puddings with them—mix with any kind of “milk” and whatever and let sit in fridge for a couple of hours or overnight. You can add all kinds of things to your chia creations, make smoothies, eat the chia seeds either dissolved or as a crunchy topping. After the seeds sit in liquid for a while and develop into a pudding-like consistency you can blend the pudding if you want it to be smoother. Either with or without add-ins like fruit. According to reputable online info chia seeds also are amazingly nutritious and good for your digestion. 

All of that would be beside the point if they tasted terrible. But they don't. I put just a few in banana bread and they improved the texture and taste. I also made two kinds of chia seed pudding—for both I mixed four tablespoons chia seeds to a cup of milk. You also can use other, milk-like products. I mixed one chia pudding with dark cocoa and maple syrup. The other I mixed with just maple syrup and vanilla. The chocolate pudding was delicious and I had some of the other with fresh fruit this morning. They both tasted great and gave me a feeling of fullness without any stomach issues. And since I have celiac disease and gastritis it’s a big deal for me to not have stomach issues. 

I checked on Amazon and the two-pound jar of organic seeds is less than $7. For now. 

If you know all about chia seeds please disregard all of the above about chia seeds. I know it sounds a bit like it’s written by a new religious convert. If you haven’t tried chia seeds yet, try them. But please do not hoard all of them like you hoarded toilet paper a few months ago. Leave some for me when I’ve used up my two pounds worth.

The Great Baking Disaster, Time of Coronavirus Series

Yesterday my project was baking bread. I have celiac disease so I counted myself lucky to find and order a box of gluten-free bread mix with hard-to-find yeast. I carefully followed the directions, making substitutes only when necessary because of the limitation of ingredients we had on hand.

I set the loaf carefully in the oven to rise, utilizing the “proof” setting on the fanciest oven I’ve ever had. When the dough had nicely risen above the level of the pan, I pulled it out of the oven and set the temperature for baking. In the meantime, I sat and rested as I again checked Amazon to see if they might have one of the items for which I had been searching in vain.

The oven beeped to signal the correct baking temperature had been reached. So, I opened the oven door, picked up the glass pan of bread dough, and, oops, it slipped from my hands, just as I was setting it on the middle rack. The glass pan did a sideways landing. As I tried to right the pan it tipped all the way over (another “oops") and very sticky bread dough dripped from that rack onto the rest of the racks. If this had occurred on I-65, the guy in the traffic copter would have called it a rollover accident with probable fatalities. I must have said something, (probably not “oops”) as my spouse, god love him, came running.

If I’d had my wits about me, I would have taken a photo or just sat down and cried. Instead, using spatulas, knives, pot holders, and our hands, we both tried to scoop the dough back into the pan. In doing so we only made the mess worse. I felt like I was in an old Woody Allen film, back when they were slapstick funny. We had spread the sticky dough everywhere, including on the oven door, between the oven door and the frame, and the floor.

We wiped the mess as best we could and I looked at the dough we had managed to recover and put back in the pan. It was a lot less dough and the top of the dough was covered with little black specks of burnt-on food picked up from its adventure on the oven shelves and door. You clean-food people will be happy to know we tossed the dough that had landed on the floor or outside the oven.

If you truthfully are repelled by a little dirt, do not read the rest of this post--REALLY! STOP READING NOW!--because I scraped some of the black spots out of the dough, smoothed the top, and put it back in the oven.

By dinner time the smell of fresh-baked bread filled our kitchen. I carefully took the bread pan from the oven and, after letting it rest, removed the loaf from the pan.

The great baking disaster ended well. We each enjoyed a slice of the bread with a little butter, proclaiming the taste excellent. No apparent traces of oven debris were found in the loaf—at least so far as we could tell. Maybe it’s helpful our old eyes don’t see as well as they once did. We also concluded, with some scientific-sounding pronouncements, whatever bits of previously burnt food that might remain no doubt were safe to eat after baking.

Belatedly, I realized my error that had caused the calamity. Following the bread-making directions, I had spread butter on the top of the dough as it proofed in the oven. But I had not covered the bread. When the dough rose, the butter had melted and apparently dripped down the outside of the pan making the glass pan slippery.

There were many beneficial outcomes from the great baking disaster. In addition to having fresh bread for dinner, giving the kitchen floor an extra cleaning, needing to wash all the towels, pot-holders and the like that had become bread-dough encrusted, I also learned a lesson of what not to do when baking bread. And perhaps most significant, I don’t have to worry about my next project: reading the manual for cleaning the oven.

Happy fun in the kitchen to all of you.

Staying Busy in the Time of Coronavirus

Heroes live amongst us. At hospitals, emergency services, grocery stores, trucking, meat-packing plants, farms, and the hosts of other occupations that until recently we have failed to recognize, these heroes have been more than busy. The rest of us who are not on the front lines have mostly been stuck at home.

John Milton wrote, “They also serve who only stand and wait.” I doubt he was talking about staying home during coronavirus, but who cares? The quote sounds appropriate to this time. And a lot of us are getting tired of “standing and waiting”, especially with masks on and at least six feet apart.

If we are honest we know that in comparison to the front-line heroes’ sacrifices, our small inconveniences are miniscule and petty. So, I offer some encouragement to those of you itching to get out and about but knowing it’s a bad idea to race to the nearest, newly-opened bar, restaurant, or other non-essential place where you can become part of the second wave of coronavirus.

There have been so many articles and stories written on how to amuse yourself at home, how to fix your own appliances or plumbing, how to cook gourmet dinners, clean your house like a professional, or preserve your home-grown produce I won’t add to them. Personally, I’ve seen so many ideas for these amusements I’ve had to pace myself. After all, I’m a retired senior.

As Al Pacino would, and did, say, In Scent of a Woman, “I’ve been around, you know.” At one time I cleaned my own home, including scrubbing the front steps and my kitchen on my hands and knees, baking bread and making homemade granola, cooking dinners, making jams and juice, as well as working at least 40 hours outside our home. Until we had the financial wherewithal to send shirts to the cleaners, I also ironed my spouse’s and sons’ shirts. Since then, I’ve endured a tiny bit of well-deserved complaint from my daughters-in-law for our sons’ lack of domestic experience. A true Wonder Woman would not try to do most everything herself but teach others how to do for themselves.

Now, my knees, hips, back, and the rest of me aren’t what they use to be. I try to walk a bit in the park every day. The rest of the time I sit and read, interspersing a project or a chore per day. Oh, and I also spend some time nearly every day seeing what necessities I might be able to order online. I found trail mix and cloth face masks online and ordered both. Though not the type of trail-mix my spouse prefers.

We have all gotten used to not just settling but being happy to find anything close to what we want in some categories: different cuts of meat, different types of household cleaners, as well as more expensive prices for ordinary things. I for one, can’t figure why the pandemic has caused toilet paper to be scarce and the price of body wash and contact lens cleaner to both increase by a factor of ten. But we celebrated my husband’s last shopping trip when he scored not just disinfecting wipes but Charmin toilet paper. Woohoo!

I also was successful in ordering gluten free bread mix, complete with yeast. Who knew celiac disease would turn out to be a blessing. Soon I will tell you about my baking project. For now, I hope you stay healthy and can continue to try to keep yourself and others safe by staying home and waiting awhile longer.

Living in the Time of Coronavirus: Will I Have to Learn to Drive Again?

I hope you and your families are well. We watch news reports until we can’t stand it anymore. My spouse and I are staying at home except for walking our dog in the park and necessities. My spouse goes out for groceries, every two weeks unless we run out of something we think we REALLY need. Luckily, he is a good shopper, with a mask and an organized list.  When we can’t stand the monotony of eating our own cooking we order carry out. We count ourselves lucky to be able to afford groceries and occasional carry out.

I may forget how to drive if I stay home much longer. But on the positive side I’m getting better at doing my own nails. I write some but not as much as at first with the stay-at-home. The writing is therapeutic for me even if the reading of it is not for you. I tend to write longish essays that I then need to edit and chop into shorter posts. You, my sweet reader, no doubt wonder—how can she drabble on for any longer than this? Well, there is a lot of free time now for some of us.

I also am baking bread and doing what housecleaning my arthritis allows. Hell to get old. I now read the obits in the daily paper and am startled to see how many of the dearly departed are the age of my husband, myself, or younger. Not sure how many of those listed have died from coronavirus.

Reading the obituaries makes me think perhaps I should write my own obituary now. At least I could make it a bit funny if I do it while I’m still healthy. Shall I mention my awards in college and law school, as I’ve read in other obits? Or the fact that I’ve been preceded in death by many wonderful and loving collies. If they are in heaven I won’t mind passing to that world, assuming I’m amongst the blessed. Or perhaps I can use what Martindale-Hubbell wants to put on a plaque they continuously try to sell me? No, I think I need to give this more thought.

I’m doing lots of reading and some zoom “cocktail parties”, with my book club and another women’s group. Lots has been written about the best way to Zoom.  Zoom can be challenging for largish groups. But recently we Face Timed with our teenage grandkids. That is not at all challenging or overrated.

I never thought I could value the hugs of loved ones more. But now the coronavirus has taught us those hugs truly are to be cherished.

Living in the Land of Uncertainty

We all are living now in the land of uncertainty. People are staying at home as much as possible, and wearing masks when they have to go out. Health care workers, grocery store clerks, truckers, first responders, teachers and many others are being recognized as the heroes they are. Some for the first time.  Non-essential stores and offices are closed. Online ordering of food is difficult if not impossible. Everyday items we had long come to take for granted have disappeared in many places. The underlying fear of catching a deadly and novel virus competes with dire concerns of a great depression.

My uncertainty is a lot less than the uncertainty for many. But it exists. It’s about day six or seven since I started with a little, hacky cough, tightness in my chest and headache. Since I am given to allergies to nearly everything God or man created, but especially the God-creations, such as grass, pollen, sunlight, trees, cats, wool, dust mites (you get the picture), a little cough and tightness in my chest ordinarily are not unusual enough to give me pause.  

In the time of coronavirus, however, every cough, whether at home or in public, is suspect. My spouse immediately started asking how I felt. Did I have a fever? No. Was I feeling sick? Just a little tired. Could I still taste and smell food? I sure could. Did I have an appetite? Yes. Maybe a little less robust than usual, but food tasted fine. Or it did for the most part. Some few things had a strange aftertaste. Like dark chocolate. Oh—talk about God-created miracles. Please don’t let anything ruin the taste of chocolate.

 This state of affairs continued for several days. My coughs during the night occasionally waking my light-sleeping husband. But not me. I’ve been known to sleep through small and large disasters occurring around me. Since I am a senior and have a history of asthma I yielded to my spouse and other family member’s insistence that “I do something”.  I sent an electronic message to my primary care doctor. My symptoms were so minor I apologized for taking her attention away from what I was sure were more pressing patient issues.

My doctor’s office quickly responded and asked me to come to the office the next morning. I did, following their instructions for safe access. My doctor took my vitals and confirmed my temperature, blood pressure, and oxygen levels were all good. She listened to my lungs and asked pertinent questions about my symptoms. She noted I likely had a virus, the treatment for which was rest, fluids and healthful, easily digestible foods. She reiterated hygiene and safety measures to prevent the spread of the virus in case this was the dreaded COVID 19 and sent me home with a prescription for a new inhaler to use if the tightness in my chest caused any breathing difficulties and instructions to call 911 if I felt at any time I had significant trouble breathing.

When I got home and reported in an email the results to family, in what I thought was a very low-key manner, I was met with calls and questions. Some were concerned that I had not been tested for coronavirus. The only thing scarcer than rolls of toilet paper are COVID 19 tests. While it would be useful to know if the virus I am experiencing is part of the pandemic sweeping the globe, for me right now it makes little difference. I am and have been staying at home. I am not deathly ill. The doctor had assured me that whatever virus I had my spouse most likely already had been exposed so no extraordinary measures to keep him from being exposed were likely to make a difference.  

It would be useful to know if this illness is giving me some immunity to COVID 19. By the time I’m fully better I’m hoping tests will be available to determine that. By then, I could more safely go out and about. And also, possibly donate platelets to others who need help in recovering.  

I’m now in week two of the cough that lingers. I’ve not had any of the symptoms commonly associated with allergies, like itching and sneezing, or the ones I associate with flu or other previous viruses like fever or congestion.  I also don’t feel any worse. In fact, I am cautiously optimistic. I have a little more energy and am a little less headachy. I still don’t feel much like doing chores around the house or putting on makeup. But that’s not a whole lot different than usual.

I know that week two of COVID 19 often is a turning point where some people get better and some suddenly take a turn for the worse. So, I’m going to continue to follow my doctor’s advice: rest, fluids and stay at home.

As we all live in the land of uncertainty, I am wondering what I might find on Netflix today—and if Netflix will freeze up like it did last night. Maybe at some point we will all learn who is and who is not immune to coronavirus and have a vaccine for those who are not yet immune. Then we can emerge from the land of uncertainty and rebuild our world, perhaps in a kinder, better, and safer world for all of God’s creations.