What the Elves say

 

 2020 is being stubbornly relentless. No one knew how things would pan out when Covid 19 hit the world, and it has been a long, tough season of readjustment. Some people predicted it would come and go, and life would return to what it had been.  Others suspected it would be a long term, on-going change to our way of life.  Most people are just taking it in small chunks, because that makes it all manageable. I think it is the uncertainty that can be the most stressful - the social, economic and personal unsettling cause tensions to rise.

And just when you think you might be getting the hang of  whatever is going on, things change again, and new regulations are promulgated and safety precautions are suggested.

You know all this, because you are living through it. 

But everything I have written above is just what a Type 1 diabetes diagnosis feels like - stubbornly relentless, a huge readjustment, a hope it will go away, acceptance that this is for life, and managing it in small bites.  Covid 19 had a familiar feel to it for our household.

It takes time to adjust to living with a chronic illness, and just when you think you are getting a handle on it all, things change.  TD does an amazing job of navigating the course. 

Lock down has given people a chance to try new things, or catch up on some chores . I eventually made Banana Bread.  TD tidied her room.  It was like an archaeological dig in some places, and  she uncovered lost mementos and buried treasure.  This included two tubes of henna bought in Sedgefield many months ago.  I watched in fascination as she beautifully scripted some words on her wrist, in characters I could not decipher.  It was, apparently, Elvish, Tolkien's made up language from the Lord of the Rings. 

When she offered her calligraphy skills to decorate my wrist, I was delighted.  Here is what I chose to have hennaed on my wrist:

 

 

 

 

For those of you whose Elvish is a little rusty, it says Serenity and Courage.  I think those two concepts are helpful when dealing with everything that is thrown at us - the big and the little stuff, the permanent and the transient. Covid and diabetes.

Tolkien's writings are full of wisdom and advice.  One of TD's favourite quotes is "Not all those who wander are lost."  I love the idea of purposeful wandering, or even purposeless wandering.  It is calming and leads to creativity.

 The Tolkien quote most appropriate during a pandemic might be:

"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

Live courageously, Find serenity. Decide wisely how you want to live. Wander aimlessly for a while....

 

The Big Picture

We get great pleasure from wandering around our little garden every day, looking at which new plants are popping up, which are flowering and which are flourishing. Some, of course, have decided that this new environment is not for them, but the majority have been nurtured and talked to most days, and are growing despite our enthusiastic ignorance of horticulture.  Weeds abound too, as do mushrooms, as it has been damp (and we put down a mushroom top dressing). 

To get the best view, you need to sit on the bench in the shady corner and squint a bit.  That way you can see the whole picture, and the weeds and mushrooms blend into the greenery and fill the gaps.

I am finding it more and more important to look at the big picture these day.  There is no longer any point in getting hung up on the little details that don't have big consequences. Like traffic, or untidy rooms, and brusque strangers. This is probably one of my reactions to Covid.  The important things to concentrate on are Life and Living.

TD is back at school.  She goes every second day, having one week of two full days at school, followed by 3 days the next week.  Inbetween she does her school assignments and learning at home. So far - and it is early days- this is working well.  I can see the shift in TD's attitude to life as she is able to engage with her friends, and her work, on a more personal level.  It suits her not to have to rush in the mornings (school starts an hour later, and the traffic is light) and in the afternoons (all extra murals are cancelled.) At the beginning of the year, we asked TD to take a serious look at all her commitments and choose which she could let go, in order to calm the rushing stress.  She had trouble deciding, but Covid sorted that one out for her.  The only after school activity she does is her double bass lesson, and that is something she loves.

You have probably read all the news reports about people with comorbidities needing to be extra careful about avoiding the virus.  Sadly, statistics are showing the the most deaths happen to people who also have diabetes.  The following infographic was supplied by the Western Cape Government on the 9th June.

Supplied Western Cape government

You can see how scary this is for the T1 community. TD's endocrinologist, and the paediatric endos agree, that it is as safe for TD to go to school as it is for anyone else her age.  The bigger picture is that young people have a definite advantage  - they are likely to only have mild symptoms and recover quickly.  The other mitigating factor is that the diabetes needs to be well controlled.  This means we need to be extra vigilant to keep TD's average below 10.  This is a huge challenge in such a stressful, unusual time, so we need to be extra vigilant.  I am very grateful that we have resources and abilities to help TD manage her glucose levels.  She will just have to be patient with me forever asking her to check she is not too high/too low.  Moms worry.

The big picture is that the whole world -well, most of it- is fighting the fear of an unknown future. There is always the minority fringe who reject the unpalatable science for a more comforting fiction.

Our front garden is a contemplative space for me.  The weeds don't bother me, nor do the fallen leaves or the mole tunnels.  The whole picture, weeds and all, speaks to me of Life in adversity.

My thinking spot

The silence of sadness

Nothing is simple at the moment. Our world is in disarray.  We are bombarded by statistics and warnings and news broadcasts that make me want to cower in the corner.   We have been isolating for a bit longer than the government mandated time period, because we are very aware that TD falls into the vulnerable category should she come into contact with the COVID 19 virus. Oceans separate us from R;  I so want us all to be together to weather this storm, but the best we can do is (and I am very grateful) chat on Whatsapp.  Home, at the moment, is a Whatsapp group.

Amidst the chaos, TD turned 17.  It was a more subdued celebration than usual, and the party has had to be postponed.  As her birthday was just before lockdown, the four of us (the fourth being O, TD's boyfriend) had a picnic on one of the world's most beautiful beaches.  It is a lovely memory of celebrating TD's TDness.

Sunset at Clifton

Sadness is a silencer.  Words become difficult, amid the sameness of everyday, the magnitude of privilege and the world speaking repetitively about things that are difficult to hear.  So I am silent, as I have nothing new to add.  The best we can do is stay in our bubbles of isolation and feel thankful for all we have.  Except I feel other things as well.  I feel anxious about the health of my family.  I feel restricted and restless, tinged with the guilt I shouldn't be so ungrateful.  The Shouldn't Feelings.  I shouldn't feel sick - I am not as sick as others.  I shouldn't feel tired - I have all the time to sleep, and soft surroundings to comfort me.  I shouldn't feel restless - I have a garden to potter in, and a space I have taken as mine in the house.  Trying not to feel these things creates a silence around me that is exhausting to maintain.  I know - all feelings are valid.  I just have to accept that this is how the world presents itself at the moment.

South Africa's three week lock down aims at flattening the curve.  So far, it seems to be working, but I fear three weeks may just delay the onset of the worst, and we can't stay like this forever.  The economy is crumbling, and I fear that will spark even bigger flames of resentment.

We are doing our part to flatten the curve, conscious that this is a group effort if it is to succeed.  And we are very familiar with the concept of needing to flatten the curve - it is a daily practice here with TD's glucose line.  Every day, we try to iron out the sweeping highs and the dipping lows and on the odd occasion even manage a short period of a steady, straight line on the graph.  It is not easy, particularly now, as TD's stress levels are high, her routines are disrupted, and her social support system is more difficult to connect with.  But we know to keep her healthy, we need to flatten the curve.  (Admittedly the midnight waffles on Wednesday were probably not a great idea diabetically speaking, but what fun!).  Although we aim at a straight steady glucose line around the 7 mark, we know it is unachievable 100 per cent of the time. Life doesn't work like that - things are not linear.  More often they are circular, or triangulate or lets face it, a unnamed squiggly shape unique to every person.

I am not one of those people who say that the COVID19 virus is good for the world - a time for reflection, and to reconnect with nature and other people.  Tell that to the families of those who have died. There are other ways to learn important lessons, and only those who have to endure great loss have the right to tell others to look at the good in the silence of  their sadness.