Posted on April 9, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

A “hair razing” fundraiser for the Antigonish Food Bank

 

This is simply the best thing I’ve read about to Covid-19 crisis. Christine Hanna is a CCFP-EM resident at Queen’s University.

In her words.

“I have just completed my first shift as the physician for the COVID-19 assessment clinic in Kingston. And before I return home to my multi-step decontamination routine in the garage, I want to share a few lessons that I have learned.

1. We need each other.
We are not silos. We can’t work alone. As much as we think we are self-sufficient and independent, we really aren’t. We need others to survive and they need us too. This clinic could not run without the incredible nurses, receptionists, security personnel, paramedics, managers, physicians, cleaners, and all those I am ashamed I cannot remember but am aware are vital members. This pandemic, and the response to it, have really demonstrated that we are stronger as a group, not as individuals. I rely on the providers I work with every day. I rely on those staffing grocery stores, pharmacies, gas stations, etc. I’m also relying on all those who are staying home, appropriately self-distancing and self-isolating. I could not do what I do without every single one of these people. And this pandemic has made me acutely aware of the fact that we are so much stronger together.

2. You are entitled to nothing.
This one sounds dark. But really, the universe doesn’t owe you anything. If this pandemic hadn’t been happening, I would have been on a beach on my vacation with some of my best friends. I’m not entitled to a beach vacation (even though I felt like I earned it) or indeed any vacation away. I am not entitled to my finances remaining intact. I’m not entitled to a date at a nice restaurant with my husband. Even thought my heart breaks for them, my friends are not entitled to sit their medical exams at their usual time. I’m not entitled to see my family and friends when I want, where I want. I may not even be entitled to my otherwise good health (or maybe life) when this pandemic is over. COVID-19 has taught me that I am entitled to nothing. And that’s been liberating. Because it’s taught me more gratitude than I could have ever felt otherwise. I feel so grateful to have taken any vacations away. I feel grateful for dinner dates, going out and seeing friends and family, watching movies in the cinema. I feel grateful for these past experiences but also what I currently have. I feel grateful to be able to walk my dog outside, feel the fresh air, eat a hot meal, be able to call my family. I am entitled to nothing so that which I do have, I feel so very grateful for.

3. Kindness is everything.
I think very few things were ever achieved by being hostile. And, at a time like this, kindness goes a long way. Saying a heartfelt and warm thank you to cashiers at the grocery store, or cleaners at the hospital or the assessment centre… it makes a difference. Think of a time you were offered a kind word. Passing it forward is free, and it begets more kindness and goodness and a time like this. It’s one of the few things we can control – so we should.

4. Stepping up is an honour.
I recently spoke with a mentor and explained that I was afraid – for myself, my family, my colleagues. He rightly said that we should be scared. Not being scared would be unusual. The difference is that not everyone can help at the front lines. Everyone has a role to play in this pandemic, but not everyone has that purpose. I do. And that’s an honour. I’m being asked to step up and fill a role at the front line that not many others can. And that’s what makes this a calling. It makes me so proud to be in health care at a time like this – and to be able to work with other amazing folks who are also stepping into the fear and doing their best anyway – because being afraid and being brave are not mutually exclusive.

5. This, too, shall pass.
There has not been a pandemic like this in an era like this under these circumstances. Ever. I have asked colleagues about how they lived and worked through SARS and, although there are lessons to be learned, this is nothing like that. There’s no handbook, and that’s ok. Today I spoke with a very anxious patient who was tearful. He was afraid for his family and his livelihood. But what he was the most afraid of was the not knowing. Not knowing when he’d see his teenage children, when he’d be able to get to work again, and when this would all be over.
We really don’t know how long this will take. I comfort myself by reminding myself that this will end at some point. I am not privileged to know when or how. This will be our reality for a little (or a long) while. But it will not go on forever; it will pass. There will be a day where life will go back to “normal.” We will see our family, friends, go on vacation, a date, write an exam… We will get through this. And when it’s finally over, we will have walked into our new “normal” with an appreciation for every day.
COVID-19 is undoubtedly one of the most challenging and anxiety-provoking situations that I will face as a physician and as a person, but the silver lining is that I know that it’s also taught me some incredible lessons in letting go, being kind and staying grateful.”

Have a Happy Easter

P.S. I shaved my head bald. It didn’t take long! I am raising money for The Antigonish Community Food Bank. They need our help now more than ever. You can send me an e-transfer at lenpdmacdonald@gmail.com or go to Canada Helps and enter “Antigonish Community Food Bank Society” if you want a charitable receipt.

Posted on April 6, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

It is with great sadness that I announce the sudden and tragic death of a beloved member of the family. The death occurred at home last Friday, April 3rd. She served me so well for more than 10 years when I first laid eyes on her. She greeted me with a smile every day and perked me up when I was feeling down. Even on my worst days, she was there, loyal and dependable. She provided unconditional love and never let me down.

My day came to a grinding halt.

Let it be known that on Friday, April 3rd, 2020, my Bunn coffee maker gave up the ghost. (or the roast)

Desertion.

In most countries this would be grounds for divorce.

It’s a bit of a grind being without coffee during a period of self-isolation. I wasn’t sure whether to call the 811 number to report withdrawal symptoms or to call 911 and bring in the big guns because of a legitimate emergency.

One of the perks of self-isolation is that you can drink as many cups of coffee as you want. If you have to make 10 trips a day to the bathroom, no one will know or care. Can’t sleep at night from a caffeine overload? As a friend said to me the other day, “There is no real time in isolation. Do whatever the f… you want to do whenever you want to do it.” If you’re clinging to the ceiling at 2:00 in the morning, it matters not. You can go back to bed at 10:00 a.m.

After momentarily paying my respects, I got on to the serious task of finding an immediate replacement. I called my friend Bill who did some trouble shooting over the phone, but he quickly ascertained that nothing could be done to resuscitate the machine.

I really don’t need a sophisticated coffee maker any more that can make coffee on demand for ten people. As I continue to shed friends, mostly through attrition, a single cup cone apparatus will suffice. By late afternoon, a cone and some number 2 filters were dropped off at my stoop.

Without the kindness of family, I wondered how I might have handled this emergency? I reckoned that I could possibly have lasted 24 hours without a coffee, but not a minute more. I pictured myself putting on my winter wear and heading outdoors, breaking all the rules of self-isolation and risking scorn and the possibility of a fine. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I would have to find a 24-hour drive through restaurant to quell my caffeine craving. Yes, I know that some coffee chains won’t allow a person to walk through a drive through but I’m sure once they saw the look in my eyes, they would waive protocol and hand over a large senior’s black cup of java.

However, long before I could make it to the restaurant, there is a good chance that I might encounter a member of the RCMP or a by-law enforcement officer. I’m quite certain that they would recognize my plight and drive to the coffee shop at top speed with lights blazing and sirens blaring.

There will be a spring burial when the grounds are softer.

All unfiltered comments about this post are welcome.

As I walked the machine and carafe to our outdoor garbage boxes, someone whistled and said “Nice Bunns.”

Have a great week.

P.S. I DID NOT walk to the dumpster!

Posted on April 2, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

HELP! I’m trapped in my apartment with an alien.

 

WARNING. THIS CONTENT INCLUDES GROAN INDUCING PUNS

A guide to self-isolation.

I’m four days into quarantine. Yes, I’m in the early stages but a few things have become apparent. I see trends emerging just like one might see on election night.

I have some techniques to share with anyone who cares to listen… all two of you.

Have a plan.

This is easier said than done especially if you have small children who are bored out of their skulls, driving you to ponder the imponderable of pouring yourself a glass of liquid courage shortly after noon time. Try to have some structure to your day. My own plan involves a lot of writing, reading and cooking and doing laps around my tiny apartment.

Now, some of you know that I am a walker and I especially relish long walks. I walked across Spain last May (713 km) and the Cabot Trail in late summer (300 km). Yesterday I managed 4,322 steps. Most of these were to the bathroom. I have decided to get back to drinking 8 glasses a water a day. This was nigh impossible while teaching up north as most of my day would have been spent running down the hallway to the john. I have done a calculation and in order for me to accumulate the mileage from my two big walks last year, it will take me about 321 years if I remain cooped up in my apartment.

I have decided to only shave once every three or four days. No, I’m not contemplating growing a beard. You see, the only person that I have face to face to face contact these days is myself. I stare in the mirror when I’m shaving and all I see is this homely mug staring back at me. We (me, myself and I) see eye to eye on this one.

I haven’t yet mastered the art of social distancing. It’s proving to be a challenge. I’m beside myself all day trying to figure this one out.

I find that these days I either drink alone or by myself. On this subject, I have found a very practical way of keeping my hands from my face. I simply have a glass of wine in both hands. Of course, drinking wine has at least two benefits. One is exercise. I have to walk all the way to the kitchen to fill my glass adding precious steps to my daily total. Also, wine lifts my spirits. Or do spirits lift my spirits? And in the category of “greater love hath no man than this”, a friend dropped off a real wine glass at my door the other day. Thanks, G.S.

Another exercise sure to boost the step total is making my bed and folding laundry. Yes, I make my bed every day but these days when I see the slightest wrinkle, it is an occasion for me to right a wrong. I dutifully note the offending creases and later in the day make a second trip down the hallway to rectify the matter. (125 steps) Ditto for the laundry. Folding laundry keeps your hands busy and away from the remote control… and wine bottles.

And finally, I have added “pillow talk” to my daily routine. (Aren’t you glad you read to the bottom of the page?) Whoa! Hold the presses. According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, pillow talk is defined as “intimate conversation between lovers in bed”. I’m definitely not in love with myself although I do find that I’m talking to myself a lot these days, whispering sweet nothings.

Those of you not on Facebook (you have higher IQ’s than the rest of us) are missing out on my daily dose of pillow talk. No, I am not a sexologist. Each evening of my confinement at 7:30, I am doing a live reading of one of my humor stories. I have 1100 of them and hope that I won’t need to use all of them. The reason I have dubbed this gripping production “pillow talk, sadly, has nothing to do with sex. It has to do with old age. You see, most people reading this piece are over the age of 60 and if I don’t do the reading early in the evening, we’ll all be asleep by 9:00.

I was planning to do my live show at 8:00 but encountered strong headwinds when several loyal readers brought it to my attention that I would be going head to head with Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. The temerity of me to think that I could compete with Vanna White. “You’re so Vanna. You probably think this song is about you.” With apologies to Carly Simon.

We’re in a marathon folks and for your sake, I hope we hit the finish line sooner than later. Can you imagine what my posts might look like after a few weeks of this?

Stay safe.

P.S. Big time shout out to all the people on the front lines of this crisis. I especially want to send best wishes to my friends and residents at the R.K. MacDonald Nursing Home. I know you’re having a tough time. The staff at the R.K. do extraordinary work in normal times. These are NOT normal times and they deserve our love and support. They have helped our loved ones and now it’s time for us to return that support.