First of all, I hope all of my family, friends, colleagues and readers are doing well and able to weather this pandemic storm with flying colors! It has certainly taken its toll on our world in unimaginable ways — physically, emotionally and financially. In ways I don’t think many of us baby boomers born after WWII ever experienced before. I know I haven’t…
So I started thinking about other times in my life when I have felt isolated and weird…like today, in fact. I’m sure I am not alone when I say there are times in our lives when we feel alone for one reason or another. Most often, when we are ill. I think many women who suffer postpartum depression feel this aloneness — at the same time they are responsible for caring for their baby 24/7! Depression, in and of itself, is an alienating affliction. The list goes on and on.
The first instance of social distancing (our new favorite term for keeping the hell away from others) that I personally remember was when I had adult Chicken Pox back in 1993. This was before a vaccine for the dreaded virus was available. My son was about a year and a half and he came down with the Chicken Pox (CP for short) from daycare. I tended to him and after a week or two he was his old playful self.
I, however, didn’t know whether or not I had ever had CP as a child. All I knew was that if an adult contracts CP, it can be very dangerous.
As a precaution, I visited my primary doctor who told me “not to worry about it.” He was very blase about the whole thing; I went home and prayed for the best. Well, about a week or two later, I came down with a high fever… and then the CP was upon me. I didn’t know what to do. For some reason, I called my son’s doctor — yes, a pediatrician — and asked if there was anything I could do.
My son’s doctor was incredulous that my own doctor had poo pooed my concerns. Dr. Pediatrician immediately prescribed a medication to alleviate the dangers — but it had to be taken within 24-48 hours of the start of my symptoms. I took the meds he prescribed, but my CP adventure was yet to begin.
For over two weeks I was sequestered in my bedroom. Not only did I look like a train wreck with the infamous itchy red blisters all over my face and body, but I had a high fever and was achy. Not to mention, I was super contagious. I could not go anywhere or do anything but rest, rest, rest: aha — my first self-quarantine!
To keep my poxed out mind busy I started reading…and then I decided to re-read The Diary of Anne Frank, one of my young adult favorites. I don’t know if you have ever read it, but the Diary is amazing on so many levels. How a teenager can muster up any enthusiasm for life while hiding from Nazis in an annex for two years — two freakin’ years! — is beyond me. Anne was brilliant, raw, optimistic, opinionated, angry, sweet and above all, herself.
Anne’s diary kept me company those two weeks while I was holed up in my Studio City apartment. I read it slowly, savoring the experience. Those days were quiet and strange. I felt like I was on my own planet. There was a lone palm tree outside my window, too. I know this will sound crazy, but it felt as if that tree was my steady companion. I loved to watch it blow in the breeze. If I could title those few weeks, I’d call them “The Diary and the Palm Tree” — they kept my spirits up for sure.
https://www.annefrank.org/en/anne-frank/who-was-anne-frank/
I think most new moms follow the recommendation, as well, to keep newborns out of the public for the first six weeks after birth. I don’t know if that edict still pertains, but when my two babies were born, I kept them in a germ free bubble as long as possible. I would bundle them up and take walks in a stroller, but that was it. Those first newborn days were often quite lonely…and sleep deprived. I reminded my now 16 year old daughter of this just today — there are times when she has to stay inside and away from others to be healthy and safe.
These next few weeks will be so challenging. I’m hoping to rise to the occasion by taking on projects that I haven’t had time for in the past. One thing I have wanted to do for years is write more. Well, careful what you wish for, right? Now I have more time to blog to my heart’s content (after I spray lysol on the doorknobs).
Stay well!
Love, Cheryl
Cheryl Thatt-Burbank 