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Hello, and welcome! You’re listening to Song Stories, Quiet Stories episode 22, Remember 2020? I’m your host, Carolyn Murset. It’s been a while since my last visit here, in April. The new isolated lock down quarantine period here and throughout most of the world had been going on for a little over a month then, and was already feeling old to most of us.
Here in the southwestern part of the United States, excluding the west coast, Covid-19 cases weren’t as high in number as they were on the east coast, and in California.
Nevertheless, most of us chose to follow the safety guidelines. At my last visit here, I made a plea for help with the local homeless teen population. Thank you for your support. My grandson completed his Eagle Scout Project of gathering supplies for hygiene kits for fifty teenage girls and boys, and donated them to Youth Futures. He was even featured on the local TV news station.
Wouldn’t you know it, that after I’d been coordinating a local face mask group of 19 sewers, then sewing 25 sets of pajamas for the homeless shelter, I caught the virus! I had let me guard down once as I volunteered at a venue that wasn’t as safety conscious as they’d claimed and ended up in bed for several weeks. I was wearing a face covering and gloves when I caught it, but the others that I had to come into contact with throughout the night were not. They were either pre symptomatic or asymptomatic.
Oh well, I feel much better now, and am grateful I didn’t need hospitalization. I’m grateful my husband didn’t contract the virus, and I’m grateful for the showing of love from family and friends.
As a good friend of mine and her husband currently have COVID-19, with her being in the ICU at the local hospital, it amazes me that people equate being considerate of others as living in fear. I acknowledge that we are entitled to our own opinion about the matter, but do not believe we are entitled to endanger other people’s lives because we don’t want to be inconvenienced.
It is sad that because of the high case numbers that precautions have to be taken, which often result in isolation, separation, loneliness and not being able to observe the upcoming holiday traditions as we’ve been accustomed to and as we want to.
To me, we can find new ways to celebrate. On social media, I’ve seen many sharing photos of their Christmas decorations already in place. Candy canes appeared on my neighbor’s front lawn last week. 2020 has been an armpit year for me in many ways. It’s been hard on family economics and relationships, and I lost a dear aunt in January. A dear friend’s health took a downward spiral early in the year and our visits were replaced with phone calls. The last time I saw this friend and his wife in person was March 1st. He passed away in August.
I had also begun the year in rehearsal of a local musical with a theatre company I hadn’t yet worked with. Rehearsals came to a screeching halt when the world shut down mid March, which is when I then saw the need to help sew face masks to be sent around the country, because at that point, they weren’t being sold in retail outlets. I credit Nurse Mendy Stucki for enlisting my help. She lives thirty five minutes away and had her husband and sister in law deliver cut out face masks.
After I’d agreed to help her, the first stack of cut out rectangles was over seven inches tall. That is when I knew I couldn’t do it myself, so I pleaded for help on social media, and 19 of my friends got involved. It was exhilarating and exhausting compiling kits and leaving them and then collecting them on the porches of my seamstress friends.
After five weeks of doing this, I chose to help with the homeless teen project. My neighbor who has an online boutique not only donated items for the hygiene kits but also let me buy some of her fabric for the pajamas at a very deep discount. As I’d made most of my clothes as a teen, and most of my five kid’s clothing and pajamas until they told me not to, I wasn’t afraid of taking on that project.
I’m not good at pacing myself. I forget to eat. I don’t know how to sleep. At the time I’d let my guard down volunteering for that other event, I’d made myself susceptible, and my case of COVID-19 lasted longer than most other cases I’ve known of. I’ve become what is now termed, a Long Hauler. Those of you who think this is a made up pandemic, I wish you could read the posts of the two Facebook groups for surviving long haulers. I was the recipient of skeptical and critical and ridiculing remarks while sick in bed for so long, so I chose to join the two support groups to offer validation, love, encouragement and support.
I forced myself out of bed a couple of minutes a day to sew a wall hanging with fabric scraps from the facemasks. I sewed a cloth doll and dressed her in a skirt, a sash and crown (because Corona means Crown in Spanish.) I stuffed her with the scraps that were too small for anything else. I named her, la Caldera and fashioned her salt and pepper hair to spew out of the top of her head, representing a volcanic eruption. I was very angry lying there in bed for weeks, and these creations were my therapy. My daughter and friend sent me Survivor pins that are just the right size for la Caldera.
