Dealing with COVID away from home and the occasional aches and pains.

Over the years I have had aches and pains, osteoarthritis in both knees, just like my mum, one of them led to a knee replacement, the other I continue doggedly on.  I can walk reasonable distances, generally manage my 10,000 steps a day at least.  Walking is a favourite past time, but at the moment the body is catching up with me.  I'd love to walk to Rushcutters Bay from here then walk around the bay.  But Jac won't do it anymore and now my foot is giving me problems.  Dr Google suggests it is most likely arthritis in my foot.  What's the remedy? It's continuing to exercise, but when I walk, particularly at first, it's painful.

So my body says no, don't, stop.  Just sit and vegetate but my mind says no! Go.  I take most note of the mind, but sometimes it just gets a bit wearing.  Sometimes I want to just walk and be pain-free, not have to think about how I put my foot on the ground, not have to take care how I walk.  Not have to stretch carefully and exercise the foot before I walk.  I just want to go.  In my mind I could walk to Melbourne and back, seems such a romantic thing to do.  In my mind I can walk everywhere, but then when I start, the reality seeps in.

It is not necessarily age, though that's the convenient explanation.  I know women in their 70s who are still incredibly fit, who walk long distances without thinking.  I know other women in their 70s who can only walk short distances, because of their hearts, or their bodies or other things.  However my aches do seem to get worse with age.  I am reminded of an interview with Diana Steel - her of Avengers fame, saying in an interview, 'nobody tells you that getting old hurts'. I don't feel 70, I don't want to feel 70, I don't want to stop walking, or exploring.  I want to stay in touch with what's around me, to walk for kilometres along the beach or in the bush.  To stop and listen to the birds, to get a glimpse of an echidna waddling along.  I don't mind getting old, but I do want to do it in good health, I want to not curtail what I do or how I do it. 

Hey, I know I'm lucky, I've enjoyed reasonably good health all my life despite the abuse I have heaped on my body.  I live near the beach and can walk and swim, that I love doing.  Just like we did yesterday at Clovelly beach.

However now there is also an underlying anxiety, partly caused by COVID19 and the outbreak here which grows, by small numbers in comparison to other countries, but is still growing each day, so each day the possibility of me returning to my quiet little shack is diminishing.   It's not a fancy house or luxurious, (I only have one toilet for heavens sake) but it is the little haven I have created since Erwin died and leaving Kew East behind.  I can just picture sitting on the deck and listening to and watching the little spotted dove that very cautiously comes to eat the seed in the bird tray, watching the wattle birds hang upside down while getting the nectar from the grevillea, listening to the sweet call of the little silvereyes and the Eastern Spinebill fluttering its wings while it flits around the purple flowers.  And, in the evening, the strings of the solar lights I have throughout the garden lighting up,  being able to light the fire when it is cold and having a soak in my lovely long bath.  

Here we do get the magpies that visit demanding to be fed a few times each day, and I love them.  Yesterday on my walk in Centennial Park I discovered the Flying Fox colony.  Thousands of the noisy little buggers hanging upside down in the melaleucas, having the occasional squabble with each other when they try to find a more comfortable spot to hang, stretching their wings out like a dog having a stretch when they change position.  

And to day is New Years Eve, the nagging question what will the numbers bring today in both states?  How will the NYE gatherings impact on the spread of the virus?  What will I do if I can't get home, if my plan to travel around country NSW for 14 days so I can apply for a permit is thwarted by one of the places I visit becoming a red zone or Vic closing its borders to all of NSW?  What if?  What if?

And all the time an underlying sadness.  Yesterday the interning of Sean's ashes and a very fitting wake in Watson's bay where we drank cocktails and ate so much seafood I don't need to see another oyster for a few days at least.  A beautiful spot for his ashes on the cliffs of the harbour, very sadly next to his mum and his brother.  This family has dealt with so much grief over the last few years, it is always there under the surface, ready to erupt in all sorts of ways. And right next to the spot where the ashes now lie was this most amazing orb spider, a beautiful little thing with golden stripes and the most intricate webs, apparently they are called St Andrews Cross spiders because of the thick white cross they weave into their webs to attract insects.

We had a discussion about death last night and the trauma created by sudden death.  All of the people I have loved who died, apart from Sean, took time in their dying.  My niece, my Dad, our good friends Andy,  Dorothy and Jean, my Mum and Erwin.  We knew they were dying, there was a chance for the people that loved them to say goodbye, to start the grieving process, but when the death is sudden, what accompanies the grief is trauma.  Particularly if you are there at the dying, the trauma of that moment is so real.  One day they are there and functioning and doing the normal things like watching television or eating or arguing. The next minute they are not.  The mind sometimes finds it hard to understand, to comprehend that they will not be back, that they are no longer here.  I do remember my Mum dying after lying in a hospital bed for 8 days, 8 days of not knowing whether the next breath would be her last, 8 days of people coming to say goodbye, to tell stories, to remember her and be reminded of their love for her.  But even after 8 days when the last breath was taken, I was not ready, it still felt too soon.  But I had the time to adjust to know that the end was coming, so prepare in some way for it, how much harder is it when you don't have that.  

It's good to have the times to remember, to reminiscence, to be reminded of the good things and the bad things you shared.  To be reminded that they were a presence, that they were part of your life.  In a way it's what I miss most about not having contact with Erwin's kids, it's that opportunity to share memories to tell the stories of a shared history.

But life goes on, and we keep on living and learning and find things that give us joy, like magpies visiting. And we are lucky here in Australia, while I can be anxious about the numbers, compared to other countries we are doing so incredibly well. I was aware of that in writing to a friend in France, about watching the numbers.  18 yesterday here, compared to thousands in Europe.  So whatever happens I know I will manage and find things to enjoy, I'll eat good food and enjoy what's around me, whether I am here with Em or meandering back to Victoria, the sun will continue to shine.

Exile in Sydney 1

 Do you ever think that things are loaded against you?  In these covid times it seems quite reasonable.  Jac and I are on the road again - this time to visit Em for Christmas.  The plan was the whole family would travel to Sydney so we could have Christmas with Em and Sean's family.   And what happens - a COVID outbreak in Sydney, which means that we may not be able to get back to Victoria without 14 days quarantine.  For me that's not a huge issue, I can just hang around in Sydney until the border opens.  But for Bec and family the implications are much more serious - not being able to work, manage the business etc etc.  

On the way I stopped in Albury at a comfortable and very dog friendly Air B'nB in East Albury.  Last time I was in Albury I was aiming to beat the border closure the other way - NSW closing their border to Victoria.  Now it's the other way around.  Understandable given the work that Victorians put in to achieve where we are at now, but does throw the Christmas plans into disarray. I had booked for two nights thinking I would explore NE Victoria, which I did after applying for and receiving a permit to cross the border. Was reminded of the joys of Albury, going to a local farmers market and a walk along the Murray through wetlands.

This time Lake Hume was full.  I cannot remember ever seeing that.  So swam in the lake, which, when full, apparently has more water than Sydney Harbour.  Lots of little inlets and nooks to explore.  The weather was perfect, so started off at Lake Hume Village resort, then crossed the architectural marvel of Bethanga Bridge, a steel truss bridge that is almost a kilometre long, no longer the rattling wooden boards I remember from my childhood, but a quiet surface on it now.  Stopped in Bellbridge for another swim, then headed off to Bethanga.  This was very much revisiting the roads and landscapes of the time we lived lived in Tallangatta and witnessed houses being put on trucks and carted to the new town as the old one was going to be flooded. The familiarity of the road and the dry yellow hills dotted with gum trees was comforting. 

Seemed sunset over the dam would be worthwhile.  Most of the places around Bellbridge were still populated by boats and people picnicking on the shores.  But found a beautiful little inlet a bit out of town where there were no other people and so many birds: rosellas, cockatoos, swallows darting about over the water and, of course, pelicans.  Jac and I had a lovely quiet time watching the colours change, the suns reflections in the water and the occasional fish leaping out.  I think Jac was just happy that we weren't going on yet another long walk.  

Then a stopover in Canberra to see friends, always good to connect again and know that those friendships are sustained over time even when we don't see each other often.  And now I'm in Sydney, and it's so good to be here.  It won't be the Christmas we planned but somehow that seems fitting for the year that we have had which has taken away the idea of certainty or the benefits of planning.   It's the first Christmas without Sean, a big thing to get through, the pain and grief continually just below the surface.

The doggies watching fro Em getting home

Do love being here, apart from Emily's company, the walks along the windy streets and lanes, the old terrace houses, some big and grand, some so narrow you wonder at the size of the rooms, and some just comfortably spacious.  The footpaths with the gardens, big old trees, weedy little plots and carefully cultivated plants.  Frangipani and Bouganvillea petals falling on the footpath, little cul de sacs, coffee and bars everywhere.  In the evening went to the movies, first time for at least a year, to see The Rams starring Sam Neill.  I was the only person in the cinema so social distancing not really a problem.  On the walk home the sky put on a stunning show of colour. 

Lots of options for walks with Jac, through the streets and Lanes, a drive down to Rushcutters Bay or Centennial Park to have a paddle and a roll in the grass.  The dogs are all quite comfortable with each other now, so it's all very relaxed.