Great Pause #6
This week I accompanied my elderly mother to the hospital for an outpatient procedure. I was, to be honest, more than a little apprehensive. Covid, I was sure, lurked in every crack and crevice, covered every surface. And while I was able put those fears aside, the experience was eerie. Arrivals to outpatient services are funneled down a corridor at six-feet intervals, stopping at a Plexiglas wall behind which sit two gatekeepers. We were given surgical masks to replace the fabric ones we wore, and I had to wait outside while a nurse determined whether or not I was permitted to keep Mom company during the procedure. The waiting room was nearly empty, chairs turned backwards at intervals to encourage social distancing. And in the busy outpatient radiology department, she was the only patient for the entire three hours we were there. Not exactly the normal state of affairs for this busy urban hospital.
My project at home has been stripping wallpaper from the room that was once my husband’s office, now slated to become my sewing room. I. hate. removing. wallpaper. But I took my time, only one wall a day to preserve my arthritic hands, and now it’s just waiting for new (self-adhesive! removable!) wallpaper to go up. It only took a pandemic and a shut down to get it done.
To keep myself on an even keel, I stitch (you can read about my adventures here) and I’ve returned to coloring some evenings while I listen to podcasts. I’ve been able to “attend” a few online meditation events offered by a perceptive and gentle energy worker, Susan Duesbery. She has several practices available on her website, and I can’t say enough about her practice. I continue to read, of course, but have had to adapt my choices to fit my current head space. I’ve tried any number of titles in the past two weeks, only to put them aside after only a chapter or two. It seems only comfort reading will do. So I’ve read two Louise Penny titles and have already decided my next book will be another in the Maisie Dobbs series. Let’s call this the macaroni and cheese of reading–warm, “I want seconds” comfort-food.
Friend Mary and I enjoy ninety minute happy hour phone calls a couple times a week–and it’s like I’m fifteen all over again and lying on the floor in my bedroom, twisting the cord around my fingers while solving All Life’s Problems. We only talk about what’s important and life-changing, of course: coloring books and re-organizing the basement and what’s for dinner and camping trips and virus fears and elderly mothers and garden weeds and summertime and eating too many cookies and face masks and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Mentioned and books …
And just like that, it’s all good.