I’m Thinking of You

A Good Sign: Heart-Shaped Tea Stain on My Kitty Dish

I’ve never been so consumed with thinking about people. I’m not dwelling or ruminating or obsessing about others. I’m visiting with folks. I’m spending time with my closest loved ones as much as I’m guarding the safety of those tight-knit families living in their one-room hovels in the slums of Islamabad. I’m hanging with my boyfriend who’s been working 12-hour days to keep the hotel he manages afloat and I’m rushing through the halls of a busy ICU with over-worked medical professionals. I’m sitting with the families that are grieving the loss of their loved ones while maintaining social distancing and I’m riding with that trucker who’s bravely making his way across the country to deliver goods without even being able to sit down at a truck stop to enjoy a good meal. I’m in the kitchen with that family that’s trying to figure out a new way of living, juggling working remotely with homeschooling and this new concentrated version of togetherness. I’m looking over the shoulder of that grocery store clerk who’s stocking shelves for a small wage so that we can continue to fill our refrigerators and pantries. I’m with that person fighting for his or her life on a respirator in the hospital. Indeed, it feels like I’m everywhere these days–at least in my thoughts.

My Partner Delivering the Goods Beneath the Cover of Darkness

Yet, I am all alone–at least from a physical standpoint. I was very sick for quite a while with presumably some kind of a Telluride crud that I picked up on the mountain while teaching skiing the first week of spring break. (I had a COVID-19 swab test, self isolated for over two weeks and then found out it was negative. It took ten days for the results to come back but even if I had found out that I was coronavirus free sooner, it was best not to be out spreading germs.) During this time, I saw a couple of friends who came by to drop off provisions for me, safely separated by the glass door of my foyer. My guy came by with care packages as well but as hard as it was, we maintained a good ten feet between us, knowing that had there been any less distance we would have been more tempted to fall into each other’s arms. And then once I received my test report, I was thrilled to carefully venture out to the store, the pharmacy and a couple of other necessary places on my list. (Thankfully liquor stores are considered essential businesses here in Colorado.) 

Driving Up for My COVID-19 Test

Like many people throughout the rest of the world, I’ve been doing this for over a month. I’m not at all bored though. I have my reading and writing, cooking, cleaning and house projects, lots of radio programming (I don’t have a TV) and now that I’m better, I enjoy doing an occasional walk in the countryside surrounding my house. Plus, I have all of you. Really. I’ve never felt so connected to the rest of the world in all my life. All kinds of people, including old college friends, old boyfriends, my ex husband, friends in France, and so many more from the cast of characters that have played a role in the movie that is my life have filled my thoughts and dreams. Prince Charles even appeared in one of my nighttime productions last week! We were eating potato chips together sans gin and tonic unfortunately. I sleep as deeply as a Rocky Mountain bear during the month of January and wake up exhausted, perhaps because of all the visiting I do during the night. In pondering the symbolism behind these dreams, I’ve come to the conclusion that the night is just a continuation of how my brain has been functioning throughout my waking hours:  thousands of loved ones and total strangers pop into my head over the course of the day and with each flash, I’m wondering consciously or unconsciously how they are doing. Best of all, I feel myself sending them strength and love.

Saying Hello to Cows on My Walk is Good Therapy

The expression “my thoughts and prayers are with you” has gotten a bad rap. Honestly. I believe in the power of thoughts and prayers more so than ever. And I feel like I’m working overtime these days to stay emotionally connected with everyone in this world, particularly those in need. We have all discovered the meaning of “we are one” throughout this worldwide pandemic. I feel for the people of Italy as their death toll reaches inconceivable numbers. I’m experiencing the horror and sadness that New Yorkers feel upon seeing the refrigerated trucks line up outside their hospitals for the storage of the dead. I’m fluffing up the pillow for that medic sleeping in his car. I’m feeling the excitement of that oh-so creative person that has turned her 3-D printer into a face mask-making machine. 

Everyday I find myself having a good cry. I’m not at all depressed. I’m just full of empathy and compassion and although it can be tiresome, shedding tears is a wonderful release both physically, emotionally and mentally.

Appreciating Nature is Good Therapy

As much as I’d like to be making a big contribution to society in this fight, I know what I’m doing and feeling does help. I’ve lived through some of the most intense times of my life these past two plus years as I’ve helped my brother navigate the churning waters of his fight with cancer. And through it all, we were buoyed up by the love, support and care provided by family (most, although sadly not all), friends, total strangers and of course the amazing assemblage of medical professionals that helped him along the way. Some of the most intense moments were experienced this past January and February when his throat cancer raged and he ended up having to have a laryngectomy on February 14. In a couple of my posts at his Caring Bridge site, I made the request for people to send him cards, and we were inundated. We were also flooded with texts, phone calls, social media postings and a tidal wave of “thoughts and prayers.” Never did David or his wife or me or other family members feel alone in his fight. We know for sure that all of the expressions of “we are one” counted, whether they came to us psychically or in the form of a note.

Now I’m sending it back to the world tenfold–no, a millionfold. All the medical personnel, support staff and cleaning crew on the ninth floor of the Pulmonary Unit at UCHealth Denver have especially been in my thoughts and prayers. David spent many weeks there this winter and left just before the coronavirus crisis hit in March. Those nurses work so hard–twelve-hour shifts four days in a row–that I can’t fathom how it is for them now. And the respiratory therapists! They were so very kind and patient with every single precise word and action, all of which had the goal of helping my brother breathe better. I can see them all now outfitted in full-on PPE! Already before the arrival of this novel coronavirus, the precautions they had to take when dealing with pulmonary-challenged patients were extraordinary. And nothing was reusable; there was so much plastic tubing, rubber gloves, IV bags and more tubing, all kinds of hosing, masks–you name it. I was in awe. I’m sure that that was nothing compared to what is going on there now. There was a whole couch in my brother’s room that served as a storage area for all their paraphernalia. And that was only the supply required for him.

I was so very fortunate to have been there with my brother, to have been able to sit by his side and offer all the comfort and support I could muster. My heart breaks with the thought that all of the COVID-19 patients are cut off from visitors. I heard an NPR story about an Italian who explained how terribly lonely it was as he struggled in his solitude throughout his battle with the virus. (Please play some Mozart for these people!) Thankfully this man survived. 

I take solace in knowing how caring people are from the medical profession although they’re so busy fighting this pandemic I imagine they have little time for the warm exchanges that my brother enjoyed. Plus, there’s the contagion factor. Still, I imagine that these pros continue to convey a good measure of comfort because that’s what they do best. In the two plus years that I helped my brother through his battle, we never encountered a sour face. OK, maybe one or two–both residents–but that was nothing considering the hundreds of people that helped him.

I’ve been tempted to call the ninth floor at UCHealth Denver, just to tell them I’m thinking about them and wishing them well. I’m sure I’ll do it one of these days but I definitely don’t want to intrude. In the meantime, I know the power of my thoughts and prayers. I’m sending it to them, to my brother (who is obviously high risk) and to my mom (who at almost 87 and on maximum oxygen is in a precarious situation as well). I’m beaming out my thoughts and prayers to all the world. I find myself thinking about who I know then I expand out to people in China, Japan, France, Nairobi, Ecuador–you name it.

Enjoying a Nice Meal at Home is Good Therapy

People have been encouraging us to stay in touch with others these days. I have received so many texts, messages and forms of reaching out, that I can’t keep up with them all. It is all appreciated but I could spend my whole day communicating with these folks. Wait, that’s what I’m doing. I prefer to do it on my own hi-speed channel. I know I’m making connections all around. Of course, I’ve had many respond in return. There have been people I hadn’t heard from in ages but then I think of them and pouf! within a couple of hours they call (or text or reach out via social media). Who needs television, movie theaters, restaurants, parties and such when you have what I have going on? It’s amazing!

My Little Man Leo

I’m alone but not at all lonely. I’m thinking of you. Plus, I have Leo, my miniature lion and he has a very big personality. In an effort not to become totally loony, however, Steve, my partner of over eleven years, and I have decided that we’re safe to be together now, so it looks like fireworks are in store for us at his house this weekend. Leo will be coming, too. He has missed Steve’s cats, Tazzy and Layla, so very much, since he’s used to spending time with them when we’re all together. Leo has actually been more lonely than me, which prompts me to think about what goes on in a cat’s mind. I’ve also been thinking about how this new normal of shelter in place has been for blended families. There’s so much to think about! Maybe this weekend I can have a margarita, sit in the hot tub and just give it a rest. We all need a break, don’t we!

Wishing you and your loved ones good health and contentment!

Happy spring! Happy Easter! Happy Passover! Happy Ramadan! Happy Renewal!

Leo Participating in a Romantic Easter Dinner with Me

I hope you like the lead image of this story and that most of all, you noticed the heart made by my teaspoon on this little kitty dish one day. As I wrote in my story Lucky 2020, I see signs all over, mostly good luck signs and to me, this was another one of them.

The outpouring of support for all of our helpers has been outstanding. (I love the 8pm clapping, hooting and hollering that’s happening in Colorado, Paris and many other places around the world.) If you’d like to send a direct message, know that many of the hospitals and medical centers within the U.S. (and most certainly beyond) have a place to do that on their website. Here in San Miguel County, the county that encompasses Telluride, Norwood and other small communities here in southwestern Colorado, our medical professionals have been doing a stupendous job to protect and care for its approximate 8,000 residents. You can leave a message of appreciation for the Telluride Medical Center here. And if you’d like to make a donation to them monetarily or to buy them a meal or a snack, click here. Our little Uncompahgre Medical Center in Norwood has also been rising to the occasion. You may offer them support here.

This just in:  I wrote this story last week and as is the case these days, had to roll with yet another change of plans. Steve and I did not have the reunion we hoped for, since we had a bit of a scare and it appeared that he might have had contact with someone that was infected. As of yesterday, I learned that all the right precautions were taken and we now have the green light for getting together. The fact that we live apart has made our situation rather unique; although we practice being together living apart, we’re a family as much as a married couple although these days we’ve stepped back from our togetherness because neither of us wants to become sick. Maybe it was easier to worry about becoming pregnant back in the day? These are indeed strange times.

Here are two of the highlights from the past couple of weeks that have moved me deeply. Pull out the Kleenex and immerse yourself in the music of these two very different artists performing in two very different genres:

John Prine singing songs from NPR’s Tiny Desk.

Andrea Bocelli:  Music for Hope-Live from Duomo di Milano 

One more little diddly:  I happened to hear this week an NPR story about how so many people have been having COVID-19 dreams. Go figure! So much so, in fact, that a gal created the website, www.idreamofcovid.com, where people can share their dreams. See, we’re not alone. We’re all eating, dreaming, social distancing, worrying and doing so much more together. We are one and I’m thinking of you.

Petting a Horse While Drinking a Beer at Sunset is Good Therapy