Riding the COVID Wave
By Karen Stevenson, Edmonton, Canada
“Mom, did you catch the news today”? We were having lunch and I had just heard the first death in the States, from COVID-19, was confirmed in Davis, California. It was February 29th and she had a trip planned to visit my brother and his family there in a couple weeks. She enjoys travel but at 87 she was finding it more difficult to travel on her own. Flying from Edmonton, Canada meant a connecting flight through Los Angeles and that already had her worried. That evening my brother called suggesting she cancel her trip. My nephew and his wife are doctors in Sacramento and advised against the trip.
As our worlds began to close in I was thankful I had made the decision to pull back from my art therapy practice in mid-February. I wanted time to reassess how, or if I should move forward with my work. I wanted three or four months to mull that over. Be careful what you wish for.
I enjoy tinkering with technology and once the social isolation and physical distancing directives came into place I quickly went into busy mode. I set up online Zoom meetings; a Sunday morning family “V”-runch, online creativity workshops with family and friends, collaborating with other art therapists in an online therapist self-care group. I baked bread and did what was suggested to do. Staying busy was exhausting.
When I heard the news that John Prine died, the tip of sadness began poking up through the busyness. I let it. I thought of Dad and his last days, 12 years ago. His last years included more and more trips to the hospital. In the last few weeks we were required to gown up and wear a mask to protect ourselves. He had contracted a super-bug in the hospital and it was for our protection. All he would have seen was the masked family members around his bed near the end. I’ve always felt bad about that and yet now in this time of COVID-19 I am thankful that at least he had loved ones around.
Mom and I get out for walks. She lives alone and we are all thankful she is not in an extended care or seniors’ residence. We talk about the grandkids. The ones on the front-line, my daughter a nurse, my nephew a grocery clerk, a niece who is a police officer. We are concerned but have to trust they will have what they need to stay safe. I say goodbye – no hugs, just a see you later. I go home and listen to John Prine’s “The Speed of the Sound of Loneliness”.