I am okay. I have the things I need – food, clothing, shelter. Air conditioning…a fabric stash, hobbies and crafts. I have everything I need – except an immune system.
And I am not okay. I crave laughter and smiles – I yearn to see and feel the hugs of my kids and grandkids. I need to watch a sunset, smell salt air, feel the sand between my toes. Sit with my family around a campfire and listen to the familiar and usually wildly inappropriate banter. I need to feel useful…
I am okay. I have enough things to do. I have a large enough, secure yard that no one gets within arm’s length unless I allow them. I don’t have to worry about going to work as an essential employee, nor worry about the loss of a paycheck as I’ve not been able to work for awhile. It’s status quo on that front and I know how lucky I am there. I can still play in the dirt, go fishing, walk my dog, read, sew, putter. Make face masks because it’s something I can do to help in a miniscule way against a mighty foe.
And I am not okay. Social distancing has meant pretty much isolation. And more time on my hands. So I miss him. Every. Damned. Day. Here, in the house he loved. Here. Facing the rest of my life without him. Here, without even the possibility of family visits. Just here. A helpless health care provider in a health care crisis. The training, the passion, the desire to help…just sitting here.
I am okay. I am choosing to limit my exposure to grim news and numbers. Focusing on the positives where and when I can. Doing research…trying to learn something, anything, every day.
I have decided that on the other side of this thing…I will either see my kids, grandkids, family and friends again. Or I will see my husband, my mom, my grandma and my dog again.’
I am okay. And I am not okay.