This is the waiting time. Vaccines have been approved and are rolling out with great efficiency in the UK. Yet, not everyone has been vaccinated nor will be for some time. And in many other countries, the process has barely begun.
Spring has teased us with the first, beautiful blooms only to submerge them in snow. The lengthening days start and finish in freezing temperatures. The current lockdown has no end date – only cut off times for some vital government financial support.
Is it any wonder then that I am filled with longing? As I am sure you are: for a return to life without the low level hum of anxiety; of warmth and sunshine; for at least a glimmer of security; reunion with friends and family.
My health situation means that I live with constant uncertainty, a background noise of ‘what ifs’. The pandemic has just been one more layer and though I try to remain a positive person, by last weekend, I felt it all overwhelm me. Longing was turning into despair and despair is not a luxury I can afford. There would be no coming back.
I practised all the things I advocate in this blog. I increased my exercise, my meditation and made more art. I slept in to try and recuperate from disturbed nights. I studied the view, willing myself to appreciate every bud and tree and sky. I turned to my friends for help.
And it worked.
Standing in the garden, it seemed that everything was dead until I looked more closely. The very tips of trees were in bud. Low to the ground, bulbs were pushing through – some only weeks away from bursting into life. Taking some deep breaths, I tried to feel the garden. It pulsed with life. Like sleeping beauty, it was only mimicking death, waiting for the sun’s kiss of resurrection. And though we can predict almost nothing else: the world will turn, the warm days will come. Spring is on its way.
Walking in the cold, bundled up like a Michelin man, is a bracing tonic. Like computers, MS sufferers need to be kept cool in order to function, so though the weather is not most people’s ideal, for me it offers an opportunity to extend my walking range. My walking poles keep me from stumbling on the uneven pavements and Jeff and Hermione are good company. By the time I return, I can barely move and my final steps are more leg swings from the hips than true walking. But this burst of fresh air, forcing my blood to circulate and the joy of reaching incrementally further distances makes it all worth while.
Craft production has gone into overdrive. My fractured mind needed focus. Out came the air drying clay, papers for cards and a quirky diorama. Origami stars were made for my granddaughter (she loves them) and plans were made for even more projects. Scattered thoughts were corralled into something productive and rewarded me for it. Who cannot feel happy at a task completed? It doesn’t need to be professional or perfect – just done. Before there were only raw materials. Now there is something!
And lastly, I spoke to friends. For once, I allowed myself to reveal weaknesses – fears and frustrations. And my honesty was met with compassion and practical help. Many of my friends are a bit older and due their vaccinations now, so I thought I would simply ask if they heard of any spare doses to offer my name as someone who would come at a moment’s notice to avoid wastage. Unbelievably, two days later just such a scenario arose and I was privileged to get my first dose. I wish everyone I knew was so lucky and wait impatiently for them to be protected too.
When I was beginning this post, I was determined to find a fissure of hope in the wall of despair; to pry it open and let the light in. As it transpires, that was done for me. I am still longing for the spring and its abundance of flowers. I am still longing for longer, warmer, lighter days. I am till longing to see my friends and chat and laugh in person. But this last week has shown me that miracles are possible and even when they are in abeyance, we have the resources to prevail.