Feelings
Gentle breeze
Warmth all around
Sounds
Bees buzzing
Pidgins cooing
Birds chirping.
Stillness
The flapping of wings
Rustling of leaves in trees
Birdsong
Creaking of wood in the summer heat
Calmness
Sights
White clouds in the blue sky
Birds swooping & diving & gliding
Greeness of plants
Colours of flowers
Swaying of trees
Nature in her beauty
Smells
Fresh air
Plants
Wooden furniture
Life
Beauty
Wonder
Reflection
Thanks
So this evening my phone pinged & there it was, the ominous message telling me I have to self isolate for 9 days!
I’ve been so careful. I’ve cleaned everything that’s come into the house and have basically done nothing for over a year. But on Saturday it was my neighbour’s birthday and she invited me to her birthday gathering in the garden. I was only there for an hour, hardly spoke to anyone & tried to keep my distance. It seems it didn’t work.
Sigh
I’m double jabbed. We were outside. I hardly mixed at all. But the Bluetooth app says otherwise.
So now I have to wait 9 days to confirm I’m ok. I’ll spend all that time worrying (I already am) particularly as my highly vulnerable father is still staying with me.
But should I worry? Isn’t the point of the vaccine that you won’t catch it or be ill? I really hope that’s true.
Roll on the 15th!
PS. My neighbour has contacted everyone else who was there & no-one is ill or has reported a positive test. I’ve even done a lateral flow test myself which was negative. So I’m guessing it was a false alarm. I’ll keep isolating but I’m wondering just how accurate is the app?
So today’s the day, again. I got my text invitation last week & I’m going for my 2nd Covid vaccine today, 3 weeks early!
I’m feeling much more apprehensive this time around, partly because of the negative media reports about blood clots and partly because I had such severe side effects last time.
It’s good news though. I’ll certainly feel safer once I’m fully vaccinated & I’m hoping that will give me the confidence to brace the outside world again.
Hopefully I’ll be side effect free this time too. Time will tell.
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Well it’s all done. I had to wait for about 1 minute so it wasn’t even worth taking a seat in the empty room. I was followed in by a man who said he’d waited 71 years for this! Clearly a big and important thing for him. (if he’s 71,I’m not sure why I’m having my jab the same day but I’m grateful all the same.
Still not been given a sticker, but immunity is far far better! 😁
PS – no side effects this time around, yay!
Today I just got overwhelmed by things. I thought I was doing ok ish but then everything just got too much & came tumbling out. It was stupid but then if that’s how I felt, I guess it wasn’t.
Life is difficult. It’s complicated. It’s stressful. It’s lonely.
It’s about being responsible. It’s taking the strain and the worry & the stress. It’s about finding a way to cope in the midst of so many difficulties & complications. It’s not just the pandemic. It’s all the additional strains I’m feeling which are mounting on top of that.
It’s hard to navigate a way through. Difficult to stay calm & objective. Tough to not take things personally.
It’s feeling like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Wondering how I can change things, live, relax. Just breathe.
So today has been tough.
Here’s hoping for a brighter tomorrow.
Today is vaccine day.
I got my text from the doctors 2 days ago & today’s the day. At lunchtime I’ll be off to my GP vaccination centre with my arm at the ready.
How am I feeling? Excited. Apprehensive.
Apprehensive cos it’s an unknown but I’m not usually apprehensive about vaccines so I really shouldn’t be this time. Excited because a more normal future now seems a more immediate light on the horizon. After almost a year stuck at home, the opportunity to actually be able to go out & see people again, albeit in 3 months time, is such a welcome treat.
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So I was met outside the church door by a volunteer, a friendly guy who put me at ease. After a quick spray of the antibac I was directed to the side entrance (a one way system had been implemented, in the side door and out the front door.) Once inside my name was checked off on the computer & then I was given a ticket (944) to wait to be called. I joined 15 or so people sitting at two metres apart in the main church & took a seat as far away from everyone as possible, and waited.
I was reassured to see that whenever anyone was called, a volunteer quickly proceeded to clean the chair that had been vacated. Very efficient & smooth.
When 944 was called I followed the pointing & took my place at station 5 where I was introduced to the dr who was going to vaccinate me. Retired 3 years ago, he’d volunteered to help with the vaccine effort. After all the general questions & comments, the infamous “sharp scratch” and that was it. Vaccinated !
Because I was given the Oxford jab I was advised not to drive for the next 15 minutes so proceeded back to my car to wait in the car park. It gave me time to read the leaflet. It was also good to chat with an older couple arriving for their jab.
I was surprised to be called so soon for my jab & to see a number of younger people there. I didn’t seem to fit into the makeup of people in the current cohort. But I’m relieved. I’m grateful. I’m happy to have finally started on my road to the future.
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It’s been 9 hours since my jab & I’m beginning to feel a bit bit off. Just headachy & tired really so I’m heading to bed for an early night with a cup of tea & some pain killers. Hopefully I’ll sleep it off & will feel like ok in the morning. Fingers crossed x
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Well I managed about 3 hours sleep, if that before I was wide awake & beginning to feel worse. By the middle of of the night, 14 hours after the jab, I had a high temperature, shivers and aches. I’ve made tea & wrapped up in 3 blankets, in my bed, with a hot water bottle and taken more painkillers but am still shivering.
After an hour the shivers are easing but I’m still feeling rough. I guess at least my body is fighting & creating antibodies.
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So I spent the next 24 hours in bed. I felt worse than I’ve felt in years. My temperature kept spiking up to 38 degrees. My head was throbbing incessantly. I ached all over. I had no appetite and basically just spent the day sleeping & drinking fluids. Phew, what a day. The only comfort through it all is that I’ve had a vaccine, this is no where near as bad as the disease and it will wear off soon.
And wear off it did. 48 hours later I felt human again and able to function more normally. I was tired for the next week but that’s a small price to pay for protection. I just hope I don’t react after dose 2 in a few weeks time. Time will tell!
Today has been such a great day. My Dad had his Covid vaccine! 🙂
As I left him at the vaccination centre door I was just hit by a sudden overwhelming wave of emotion and was in tears. It was such a relief. Wow!
So fantastic & I just felt an immense sense of gratitude and joy inside. Truly amazing.
It’s hard.
I’m feeling the stress.
There just seems to be no end at the moment.
I don’t know how I’m going to manage.
It scares me.
Life is tough right now.
It’s not just the work situation or lack of it.
It’s not just the global or even the local pandemic situation.
The biggest stress right now is caring.
It puts so much strain on me alongside everything else.
That mountain of worries on my shoulders.
That never-endingness.
How did I get here?
How has my life ended up like this?
Why don’t people listen?
Or, why don’t they hear what I’m actually saying?
Why don’t they understand the pressure? That constant weight of stress. That continuous sense of foreboding. That tension and overbearing feeling of apprehension and worry?
It’s lonely.
It’s frightening.
It’s neverending
It’s just too much
What can I do?
What’s the solution?
What will help?
Who will help?
This wasn’t in the plan.
This isn’t how it was meant to be.
Where can I turn?
There was a slight coolness hanging in the air. It had been such a hot day that this was a welcome relief, an oasis in the desert.
And the smells? Freshness, nature, just summer.
The birds were coming home for the evening, their calls to each other giving some life to the day as evening drew near and the sun began its decent.
The peace was shattered by a cackle, just a neighbour laughing as her children squealed, enjoying their garden playtime.
The breeze picked up a little, the clouds gathered together.
The cat meowed through the window at her, just a greeting, saying hello.
With such a tranquil scene it was hard to believe that the world was in turmoil. That away from this blissfulness a pandemic was attacking the world, etching away at the things people believed in. Taking lives, changing others. The world wasn’t the same. Fear was a constant. Worry was loud for so many.
Yet in those moments all was forgotten. Life seemingly frozen. Peace, calm. Just being. And rest.
One minute life is fine, then it hits you like a bus! Today has been one of those days. I’m now sitting up really late writing, trying to make sense of what seems to make no sense. Trying to rationalise what’s happened. Shaking with fear. Worrying. Tired but too wound up to sleep. Breathe.
It was an ordinary day, well as ordinary as it can be when your job ends because of cost saving measures due to a virus that’s hitting the world. That was bad. Then I heard I couldn’t benefit from the furlough safety packages. That was bad. Then Dad collapsed on me. That was scary, very scary. Quite traumatising to be honest. Then there was him having to go to hospital. That was worrying, really worrying in today’s current climate. But I was assured he was safe, that he was separate from potential dangers. He was doing ok but would be kept in overnight to make sure.
Then came the phone call. Today was no longer an ordinary day. Within a matter of hours it had turned into an horrific day. The doctor who rang was harsh, a bit too blunt for my liking. I know he has to be but when he’s ringing with news that will shock, then maybe he should be gentler. Within seconds I was shaking, stunned. How could someone who was fine a matter of hours ago, someone who had just passed out with a low blood pressure, how could someone like that suddenly be so seriously ill that a hospital doctor has to phone me at midnight to ask about resuscitation?
What’s going on? How did we get here? What on earth happened?
So right now I’m stunned. I’m in shock. I don’t know what to think. And I’m scared. More scared than I thought I’d be when I got up this morning, when things were still right-ish with the world. Now I’m just not sure.
If I manage to sleep tonight, what will tomorrow bring? Will I awake to worse news, the worst news? Or will that glimmer of hope build and recovery continue?
My rainbow of hope arrived this afternoon. Never did I need it more.
So another Christmas time is over It’s the seventh since you left us. I try to celebrate and enjoy Christmas because I know how much you loved it. I remember the stories you told me about the Christmasses of your childhood and I wish I had more of those stories to recall. I put up the decorations, dress the tree the way you taught me, write the cards, light the candles and even wrap the presents – not that I’ve managed to perfect that skill to your standards yet but I strive to get there! Dad has been staying with me for a while and Christmas isn’t really his speciality so I’ve been on my own really getting things done & trying to do things for him too. I really miss you.
I did all the prep and I celebrated with the family and it was good. I enjoyed Christmas. I love spending time with my niece and nephew. They’re great young people and you would be very proud of them. But there’s still been an empty space throughout it all. The seat at the Christmas dinner table, the space on the sofa. Someone to share Christmas morning bacon sandwiches with. Someone to help me decorate the tree – I really do need your eye for perfection when I’m doing that and I could always use your suggestions for making everything look nice. I always miss you.
I know you would have liked the tree, the candles, the decorations. I’ve used some of the things you bought me in Holland & Belgium. So you have still had an input in things. But to be honest, you are all around me and in everything Christmas. The traditions I have, the memories I hold dear, even some of the actual decorations. They’re all because of you. You hold a huge space in my heart always, particularly during December, the month when you left us and when we said that hard goodbye. I never forget you but I miss you.
As I look at your photo, the candles, the decorations, everything that is Christmas all around me, I know you would want me to be happy. I know that you would have enjoyed this Christmas. You would have laughed with us when we were playing games. You would have enjoyed the food. You would have been proud of everything we did. And no, you weren’t with us physically but you were still with us. And even though I miss you, I can smile at your memory, at all those things I hold dear.
I wish I wasn’t writing this as a letter but that I could tell you in person, but that’s not possible. At the start of this new year, as Advent draws to an end, I smile at your memory and I miss you. x
Reflections 