I’m not feeling particularly creative, but I feel good and thought I’d share an update. So far, we’ve avoided bad craziness. But there’s still time.
We converted to online grocery shopping. Dale is not happy about it, but we made the decision together. While the precautions we took last time might be adequate, we decided it isn’t worth the risk.
One of my favorite songs is “Fort Worth Blues” by Steve Earle. It’s a tribute to Townes Van Zandt, a musician who passed away relatively young after many years of substance abuse. There’s a line referring to death, but I think it also applies to life during these strange times:
Somewhere up beyond the great divide
Where the sky is wide and the clouds are few
A man can see his way clear to the light
Just hold on tight
That’s all you gotta do
I keep thinking just hold on tight, that’s all we gotta do. We are safe at home until the worst is over. We’re the lucky ones, and I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am. Although I’m no Mother Teresa, I made another donation to the food bank and will most likely give more throughout the year. I don’t see how I can’t.
Dale was the principal shopper prior to the pandemic, but he doesn’t want much to do with online shopping. I thought maybe he would get into it, but that has not been the case. I’m doing it in consultation with him about brands, quantities, etc.
I ended up ordering from three different services. Two are pick-ups at local grocers, and one is a delivery from Amazon Fresh. You have to reserve a time for pick-up at the local stores, and that’s running about 5-7 days out. That hasn’t been a problem, since we keep a lot of food around anyway. The window for Amazon Fresh was much quicker – two days.
Substitutions are part of the deal for all these stores, but I don’t care. I did opt out of substitutions for a couple of things – cat food, because we have a picky eater, and he only likes prime filets. I also opted out of a certain kind of sausage we prefer, assuming it’s not essential, and we probably wouldn’t like the substitute.
This sucks but actually doesn’t bother me all that much. I remember when I had cancer the first time – 1999 – and there was a high probability I would die. The most optimistic five-year survival rate was 40 percent. The majority relapsed within two years.
I tried to think of cancer as an adventure, but I had to adjust to so many changes, and it wasn’t exactly what I would call a fun adventure. Even when I was on the mend, I knew the statistics and spent five years not knowing if the treatment worked. Wondering if I would die. So, what’s a couple of months locked up in a comfy house knowing the statistics are quite possibly on my side this time?
With cancer, there was virtually no way to mitigate my risk, but now I know what to do. Stay home. I have enough to keep me amused.
The hardest part is dealing with each other’s expectations. We still like each other, but we’ve taken to not talking much during the day. He does his thing, and I do mine. I guess it gives us our space. Then we start chatting away at happy hour, just like we used to.
Although I am taking walks, I’m keeping my distance. I don’t touch anything, and I don’t touch my face. I wash my hands as soon as I get home. Our town’s population is about 45,000. Definitely not rural, but not the big squished-together urban scene, either. We have lots of walking paths, and it’s easy to keep my distance from anyone I encounter. Being outside and seeing nature at work is comforting.
I have several different routes. Some shorter, some longer, depending on how my body feels. My longer route is a five-mile loop, and I was thinking it might be kind of cool to work up to 10 miles. But I didn’t think my bladder would hold. Then it occurred to me I could do the five-mile loop, stop at the house to use the restroom, and then do the loop again.
Who said I wasn’t feeling creative?
Hi Donna,
I appreciate your perspective, as a cancer survivor, on being locked down for a number of weeks. Compared to waiting out 5 years to see if your treatment worked, it’s truly a piffle!
Deb
Piffle. What a word!
Cancer is a great lesson in perspective.
I think you have to have your own space. One of my mantras for years was he and she spaces no matter how individual they are, and of course we had some totally different hobbies so there was always some seperation (I haven’t been able to ski for years and he went skiing at least once a month the entire time we were in Germany for example). My curent issue right now is that two of us are embrace the quiet and one of us is a background noise person be it music or TV or whatever, lol.
Yes, I understand about the noise. We share a computer room, and he was watching a documentary on the Spanish Civil War. I was like, just shoot me now. I have headphones, and that helps.
Smart thinking about the long distance walk. I, too, could walk longer distances, but am limited by my bladder. My routes include pit stops that are all now closed (library, park, coffee shop) so I’m doing more walks of shorter duration. Glad this happened in the spring when it’s easier to get out and fun to watch the flowers and trees bloom.
Yep, all the pit stops are closed! It has been quite pleasant here, but still, we are both eager for warmer weather.
I don’t think grocery shopping online would work at my house. My husband is really picky. I’m not that picky about brands but my list of what I eat is a short one because I’m not much for eating, period. With having cancer, I can certainly understand why you went for online shopping though. I wish I could go walking. I live just outside a small town where there aren’t any sidewalks or paths. Because of mobility issues, the terrain is impossible for me.