Tag: Covid-19

Six Months into Mid Life

On By thestampsinmypassportIn Uncategorized1 Comment

If you are on social even for ten minutes a day, you know that it is full of memes. There are people ‘out there’ that are very talented in creating memes that can become viral for good and not so good reasons. One meme from a while back was How it started, How its going. Basically two funny images (or even personal photos) of a before and after scenario in life.

You might be thinking to yourself, why is she starting off this blog with an explanation about memes. Well, as a storyteller, this is part of the set up of the story.

On December 23, 2020 I came in close contact with a person who had tested positive for Covid-19. Of course I had to go and get tested, which I did the next day. Not that there was much going on in terms of ‘holiday plans’ but I did have plans with my bubbled household to spend Christmas with them and probably New Years Eve as well. When you have been in close contact with a positive person, even if you are negative, you have to be in isolation for 14 days. Which is exactly what I did.

The truth is being in isolation wasn’t such a stretch for me. I was pretty used it in January. Leaving the apartment once a week for groceries, an occasional bagel run, and perhaps to the deli. Because we were in a stay at home order I wasn’t even having dinner with my parents (well after isolation of course).

While I was at home in isolation I started to think about my upcoming birthday and approaching 50. I opened my journal and made a brainstorm list of blog ideas to do a countdown of 50 thoughts on 50. I was looking forward to starting the posts on Feburary 1st and blog daily up to my birthday on the 27th. Great plan, right? I thought so.

The goal was to write 10,000 words before my birthday at the end of the month. I wrote my first post on February 1st, setting up the tone for the month and to get my creative juices flowing. The same day as my Covid symptoms started. I had no idea on that day what I was about to hit me, literally like a ton of bricks. All hope of the blog countdown to 50 went out the window as fast as it started.

I have shared parts of my Covid journey here in The Lisa Chronicles, some on social media and if you are friend of mine, you know much more of the story and my journey. A journey that has sparked a new list of 50 thoughts on 50 the past six months.

Six months, 12 months, 18 months. This is how long we have all been in the stranglehold of this pandemic. Life is starting to look different than it has. I have enjoyed the few patios I have been able to enjoy with friends that I haven’t seen in a long time. I can tell you that my ‘foodie’ spirit hasn’t recoved from the pandemic and my covid experience after six months. Nothing tastes the same. I don’t really talk about it, but if you have had covid or know someone that has lost their tastebuds I have two words for you, it sucks.

To bring this post back full circle I will leave you with this:

How it started: January 2021 – 50 thoughts on turning 50 – never started

How it is going: August 2021 – six month later, more than just 50 thoughts on turning 50 coming your way to The Lisa Chronicles soon.

I am not going to set a 10,000 word goal this time. I am going to write when the keyboard directs me.

Until then, stay safe and please if you haven’t gotten your shots yet, please be like Nike and just do it.

Locked Down

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Anne Frank spent 761 days hidden in the secret annex. If you have been to Amsterdam and taken the tour of Anne Frank House, climbed behind the bookcase up the tiny staircase to the secret annex you know. As you are listening to the story on your headset “Anne” is telling you about how her father used to bring her magazines from the time with all the celebrities and what was going on at the time. He brought her glue and let her glue them to the wall. You turn the corner and there is a wall, covered in clear plexi-glass and behind that you can see all the photos and articles glued to the wall. I am not comparing Anne Frank to Covid, please do not misunderstand the context. The context was really to appreciate the length of time she was hidden away to this time in our lives.

I have been careful what I have shared about my hospital experience last month. Careful for many reasons. Firstly I want to respect anyone who has had family in ICU during Covid and has experienced trauma loss. I also want to respect the health care professionals who are so important to us. Not just in this time, but all the time. If you are reading this and are a health care professional, have anyone in your family or circle that is one, I want to give deep gratitude for you.

You don’t know what you don’t know

By the time I arrived at the second hospital I was taken to in less than 48 hours it was past ten pm. This was a Monday night. I had been up since 7am on Sunday morning and had spent the last 20 hours sitting on a chair in the cubicle I was in in the Covid ER of the previous hospital. All I wanted to do was sleep.

Imagine my surprise when the EMT wheeled my gurney into a room, a dark room, where I noticed there was someone else in the bed in the room. I am going to leave out the expletive words I was using at that point, but basically I am NOT sharing a room with anyone, I have COVID. Get me out of here, I want to go home now. I thought I was seriously hearing things when they told me they cohort the patients. I said, “you put more than one person with covid in the same room?” I was mortified.

They wheeled me out and took me to the room next door (which was empty). There were two beds that were not even six feet apart. The nurse said she couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t be sharing a room. I said to her that if someone else comes in here I am leaving. She said I would be alone that night, but she couldn’t promise anything tomorrow. I said, all I want right now is sleep, we will deal with tomorrow, tomorrow. The EMS left and I told her I wanted a sleeping pill and get some sleep. At that point I had been up for over 36 hours. She left the room and closed the door tightly behind her.

When you are in a Covid room, you are locked down. The door is closed all the time. The staff comes in in full PPE, with double masks, some with googles and face shields and head coverings. There is a hazardous material bin in your room by the door and they disrobe with their backs to the door and back out of the room when they are done, they back out of the room, and close the door tightly. Imagine how many times a day this is done. Imagine actually sharing this room with another Covid patient who has a different covid than you do. Everyone has it differently. That is what is happening when the hospitals say they are at the critical stage. Remember in my post last week when I said I moved because I was ill, but not critically ill and then needed my bed.

We all want this to end. We all want to get back to work, friends and family, and life in general. Even those introverts who a happy to be at home, are missing parts of their life that they once had.

Part of healing is being able to tell your story and no longer cry. I am not there yet. Sharing my story is something I choose to do and I hope someone reading this today who has had an experience that they don’t want to talk about, that this helps them.

Stay safe on your own personal journey,

Remembering

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For many, they will remember what they were doing or where they were March 13, 2020. I know I remember. It was the Friday before March break. The kids were finishing school for March break (yes I know, it just ended this week), and those of us in the travel industry were witnessing the closures of every border in the world. That night I had a horrible experience as the shelves of Walmart were bare, every aisle worse than the one before.

Then I went to work the following day. I helped clients book flights home from Spain as the borders were closing all around them. Call after call, I was there. Much like I was on September 11, 2001.

For those who work in tourism, travel agencies specifically, they will always remember the where, when, why of everything they did on that day in our history. I remember that the information was so confusing, much like it was in March. We would hear, planes are falling out of the sky. There were at least six planes, no eight. It was impossible. And then it was silent. All the planes were out of the sky and we were all left in shock and disbelief.

It didn’t quite happen that way in March. Planes kept landing in Canada and people were all trying to get home before getting stranded where they were. While the rest of us crawled in our homes, many were just trying desperately to get back to theirs.

The skies were never totally silent during Covid, but they were very quiet. When I lived at my parents house, and at my condo, we are on the flight path to the airport. In peak flying time, we used to sit on the porch at the house and we could look at our watches, every 90 seconds a plane flew over the house. On the days after 9/11 there was silence. I never really understood the saying, silence is deafening until that time.

A few weeks ago I was out for lunch on the patio of Lone Star by the airport with a friend from my travel agency. On that bright sunny day we heard a large plane coming in for landing. We looked at each other and smiled. The sounds of planes is something that a lover of travel appreciates. It was an unspoken understanding about wanderlust.