March 6 to 16 2020 — A COVID diary

March 6 to 16  2020 — a COVID diary

On March 6, 2020, I attended what would turn out to be the last big event that UFV, the university where I work, would host for more than a year: an International Women’s Day celebration featuring Tamara Taggart and other women of influence. It attracted a couple of hundred people, seated closely together in rows of chairs. Lots of clapping and coughing and laughing and breathing!

It was a chance to catch up with colleagues I don’t see often and I must have hugged half a dozen of them. I’m a hugger. At least I was.

Then a professor friend of mine and I stopped off at a cozy wine bar in Chilliwack on the way home. It was REALLY cozy that night. A local retired doctor had squeezed his extended family in there for a party, including a kids table! My friend and I squished in at the bar for our drink, and were soon sitting cheek by jowl with four octogenarians who had arrived for dinner and were waiting for their table to be ready. We watched the young busboy wipe condensation off glasses as everyone’s breath and sweat mingled and the windows steamed up, and we all had a jolly time making the best of the crowded conditions.

Days earlier, I had headed to another pub with one of my soccer teams to mark my retirement from the game. More hugs and kisses. More public revelry.

On Saturday, March 7, I actually cancelled dinner party plans at my house because I just needed “a night at home with no plans.” Oh, the irony.

All the while, I was helping my son Miles prepare for his school trip to Scotland and Ireland, departing on March 16, and anticipating my own journey to Ireland to join him on March 27. Oh, we’d heard about COVID-19, but it as an “over there” kind of problem.

There were a few cases in Vancouver, but they were connected to travellers and did not seem like a big deal. My friend Jenn was planning to travel to Italy in mid-March and as the month progressed it became apparent that she wouldn’t be going there as that country collapsed into COVID chaos, but it wasn’t computing with me that the rest of the world, and Europe, would soon follow suit. I was too busy juggling all the logistics of my always busy life.

On Sunday, March 8, my husband’s aunt called to say that his other aunt’s celebration of life, due to happen the next weekend, was cancelled.

“They just can’t see bringing that many elderly people together in a church right now. Did you see that Dr. Bonnie Henry on TV yesterday? She was crying when she talked about the need to protect our old people!”

On Monday, March 9, we attended the final meeting at my son’s school for the group preparing to go on the Scotland/Ireland trip, due to depart in one week’s time. We went over final logistics and the teacher in charge asked for questions. Not one asked about whether the trip would be cancelled, or expressed concern about sending our children to Europe at this time.

The next night, March 10, I did have a lengthy Messenger exchange with one of the other parents, whose husband is a doctor. She was quite concerned about the growing numbers of COVID-19 in Europe and the risks associated. I told her we were still planning on going on the trip as I was using my nephew’s points to travel and they were not refundable. Plus, Miles was stoked about his first big overseas trip and we had saved for months to pay for it. He would not have been happy if I had pulled the plug.

That same night, I talked via Messenger with my cousin in Northern Ireland, who would be hosting us after the school trip, and told her we were still planning on coming.

Her response on March 10: “Not much hype about COVID here.”

Her next message, on March 12: “Are you still going to come? They are closing the schools down in Dublin and I think our schools in the north might be next.”

What happened in between March 10 and 12?

March 11.

I vaguely remember the words “World Health Organization declares pandemic” flowing across my social media platforms mid-morning, but I had no idea of the magnitude of that. It was all still a little bit “somewhere else” for me. I was focused on getting Miles off on his trip, joining him there, and then returning home to help host the celebration of life on Easter weekend for my Dad, who had passed away in early February.

(It had already been a tough year for me before the COVID crisis overheated. I tearfully told my soccer team on Jan 1 that I had to retire due to injury – and I thought that would be the toughest thing I’d have to go through in 2020. My husband Daryl lost his job Jan 2 — laid off but thankfully landed a new one within two weeks but oh! the stress in between! I was told I need a new knee on Jan 8 but that I couldn’t have one until I lost 30 pounds. Our house flooded. Daryl’s aunt passed away. And then days later, on February 4, my dad died suddenly, leaving us in heavy grief and with the enormous task of coping with and caring for my legally blind and infirm mum, who requires tube feeding multiple times a day.)

So, back to March 11.

At 2 pm that day the email came through that Miles’s school trip to Scotland and Ireland was cancelled, as were all school trips for the Chilliwack School District. A huge downer for the boy, who had been helping to pay for anticipating this trip for 16 months. In a way it was a relief for me, as the situation in Europe was getting more dire by the minute.

I flailed about for a few days, considering flying Miles and I to Ireland anyway, before realizing that this was an untenable fantasy. I asked my nephew if we could come visit them in Victoria as we had the previous spring break, as a consolation trip. His wife is a physician.

“Actually I think we’re going to be hunkering down here pretty tight, Auntie Anne. Ellen and all the other doctors are really worried about this virus.”

I considered Whistler. And then the ski mountains closed. It began to dawn on me that Miles and I wouldn’t be going anywhere.

(And 12 months later no refund from the tour company or the insurer. But that’s a whole other schmozzle and legal wrangle.)

After dinner on March 11, Daryl and I headed to the Camp River Hall to hear a presentation about a plan for improving our local waterways. On our way there, we heard that the NBA had suspended its season, and that Tom Hanks had COVID.

It was getting more real.

On Thursday, March 12, I had a typically busy Anne day. The weirdest part was hearing that Sophie Gregoire Trudeau, the Prime Minister’s wife, had COVID. Near the end of my work day on campus (what would turn out to be my last normal work day on campus), I attended a budget open house at chit-chatted with UFV senior administrators, including the president, who told me the government would be halting international travel for universities.

I raced across town to make the Meet the Teacher evening at Miles’s high school, mixing and mingling with his current teachers and others I know from the community or from when my daughters were students. There were hugs. I’m a hugger. At least I was. Little did I know it would be the last time I’d see any of them.

I talked to one of the teachers who had been slated to go on the trip. She referred back to the Monday evening meeting, just three short days ago.

“We couldn’t believe that none of you parents asked whether the trip might be cancelled.”

I hugged, laughed, and moved on. I was in a hurry to get to White Rock to put in a couple of days and nights caring for my mum, a task my large family had been sharing since February 4. Paid caregivers would be taking over on March 16 and my brother from Australia would be handling the weekend.

I stopped at the usually bustling local pasta place in Ocean Park near my mum’s house, where I had grabbed take-out several times over the month since my dad died. Tonight, eerily, it was almost empty.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Are the local seniors afraid to come out?”

“It’s all changing so quickly,” said the owner, who was serving me instead of the usual young waitresses. “I’m just hoping we can hang on.”

On Friday and Saturday I had coffee dates in White Rock with friends. More hugs. Even a handshake from a stranger when my friend introduced us. I recoiled a bit at that. Handshakes were suddenly not kosher anymore.

My brother Colin arrived on Friday night to relieve me on mum-care duty and we spent the evening visiting. He was due to fly home to Australia and then come back in three weeks’ time with his family for my dad’s celebration of life at Easter. His wife is a nurse.

“Maria’s pretty worried about this whole pandemic thing. She says things are getting pretty crazy in Melbourne.”

On Friday, my daughter Molly left her occupational therapy practicum at St. Paul’s Hospital, expecting to return on Monday. She never went back. Practicum was cancelled as of Saturday.

On Friday, my daughter Emma heard that UBC would be online for the rest of the semester and decided to move home to study from her bedroom. She’s still with us.

On Friday, my son Miles left school for spring break. That was it for in-class Grade 11 for him.

On Friday, Daryl decided to do a bit of a grocery shop and had trouble getting butter and, of course, toilet paper.

On Friday, Colin and I had our last drink together. I decided to go home Saturday rather than spend another night with him because I figured I’d be seeing him in three weeks. I regret not hanging out with him one more night because he sure as heck isn’t leaving Australia these days.

On Saturday, all four brothers and I came to the same realization: we couldn’t be asking our extended family to travel from Australia, Alberta, Vancouver Island, Seattle, Williams Lake, Kamloops, and other points for an Easter celebration of life for our dad. We cancelled.

On Saturday, I drove home to my family. Daryl and I had plans that night (the last for a long time). We went to our friend Vicki’s to celebrate the birthday of our other friend Michelle. Another friend couldn’t make it because she had to self-isolate for 14 days because she may have been exposed to COVID-19. What novel news that was!

On Sunday, I got the call from my boss. All hands were needed on deck for the communications team to get the info out that UFV would be switching to a remote learning model for the remainder of the semester. Ironically, we gathered on campus to work together. It would be the last time we were all together on campus. I started working from home the next day. They followed the week after. We were about to be part of a huge work-from-home revolution.

Late Sunday afternoon, I retreated to my back yard with a glass of wine and looked out at the Hope Slough, enjoying a few contemplative minutes and wondering what the heck would happen next.

I realized that all week I’d been being chased by impending doom and trying to out run it. Now was the time to hunker down.

Postscript: after a couple months’ delay, Molly was able to finish her OT master’s degree and is now employed by Fraser Health. The pandemic settled down a bit in summer and Miles was able to work at the waterslides. He excelled academically despite the stresses of COVID. Emma was deemed an essential worker and got to travel for her co-op job to Vancouver Island, and continues her UBC studies online. My mum remains in her own home with the great effort and support of family members and paid help. I’m lucky to be one of those allowed to visit her. Daryl and I both work well from home. I miss my friends and family and my rich social life tremendously, but have enjoyed indulging my inner introvert with books, puzzles, and evenings in. Daryl can no longer complain that I’m never home. Now he complains that I’m always home. Our dog and four cats have provided endless amusement. We are okay. We are lucky.