Looking out my Backdoor: How to survive and maintain sanity in the 'new normal'

Now that I gained your attention, I confess, I have not a clue. Neither to survival nor to sanity. I’m fishing for answers. I figured if I cast out a line, I might hook you and you could tell me!

Self-quarantine and social distance. You’d think they would be my old normal since that is pretty much my life during the summer months when my snow-bird neighbors return to the north-country.

Yet I went through the same patterns of ups and downs as my friends reported. We found the first few days rather gleeful, planning activities long neglected, trying new recipes, tackling that electrical or construction project or digging out the jigsaw puzzles, binge-watching Shakespearean plays on You Tube, from the simple to the sublime.

Then came the days of the grumps, snarky responses, angry reactions, to what? To self-enforced safety measures, to not being able to go with friends to a restaurant, to chapped hands from constant washing? For one of my friends, having to cancel the pedicurist.

Hopefully, eventually, for it seems we must plow through the whole range of feelings, around a corner we get a glimpse of acceptance.

We cut our own hair, oh, well, nobody will see us anyway. We polish our own nails. One friend got help with his electrical project. Another discovered his construction project would not tolerate shortcuts. Long way around, it is finished. Another sewed and delivered facemasks to friends and neighbors. The jigsaw puzzle had only one missing piece. We settled into a routine.

My world of smugly coping exploded when the EMTs carted my son Ben to the Bremerton Hospital with a fever of 107 and with troublesome breathing.

I told a friend I had a couple rough days. She immediately called me on my understatement. She hit it right. I was plumb nuts, loon crazy, around the bend, an emotional wreck.

Ben was incarcerated in ICU a few days, moved to the infectious diseases wing, underwent numerous, numberless tests which took forever (Mom Clock) for results. Once the coronavirus test came back negative, we in family breathed easier. But what was wrong?

Two people were my rocks during this time. Gary, Ben’s Dad is a good man. Conversation with him calmed me down. Dee, my daughter, is my other rock. We talked daily. Dee had her own drama. My granddaughter, Jessica, pregnant with problems, was supposed to have her little girl on my birthday. Doctors in Glendive induced labor and Jess has the sweetest little bundle imaginable, whom she did not name after me.

I still felt helpless. I could not speak with Ben. I could not go see him. I could not kiss him and make it well. I had no control at all. Ah, control. As if ever!

When illusion of control, or lack of control is the issue, I (eventually) know what to do. I sat myself down and had a meeting, channeled my inner Al-anon. Those Al-anon men and women are mean and tough and tell it like it is. This meeting lasted hours. Nothing changed. I still had to feel all the fear and anxiety, all the way to the bottom. But, I felt grounded.

My son was finally diagnosed with a severe infection which had entered his blood, lungs and heart. Yesterday he was released, sent home with super-antibiotics to be administered by IV. Gratitude whelms me.

Today I was supposed to be in Montana to renew my MDL. I said to Dee and Chris, “Aren’t you glad I did not get to make the trip.”

They fluttered and stuttered. “Just think,” I continued. “I would have been in quarantine with you for months.”

Today my son is home. Today my daughter sent me pictures of our baby girl. Today the jasmine is in full flower around my door and windows. Today the jacaranda is in full purple umbrella.

Today I have control over nothing. Today is all I have. It is enough.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].