Posted on May 21, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

The boy in the bubble

(Pete MacDonald photo)

 

“Livin’ alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known

But when I dial the telephone, nobody’s home

All by myself, don’t wanna be,

All by myself.

All By Myself – Eric Carman

 

So, it has come to this.

We have “flattened the curve”, just not the one around our waistline. That one will take much longer. We have self-isolated, disinfected, social distanced, and lived like hermits for eight weeks or more. We have “fought the good fight” and done our part to protect ourselves and others from harm. Spring is in the air and the economy is starting to reopen. For the first time in what seems an eternity, there is a ray of hope that life might return to some semblance of normalcy.

And then come bubbles.

“Tiny bubbles, in the wine; make me warm all over -Don Ho

The government of Nova Scotia announced last week, that some restrictions regarding personal contact would be eased ever so slightly. No, we’re not even close to seeing a day when hundreds of people will crowd into a bar to listen to some live music or attend a sporting event with tens of thousands of rabid, beer swilling fans. We have been told that we are allowed to have contact with one other family. They can visit us, and we can visit them. We will now affectionately be known as a bubble.

This has quickly become a litmus test for friendship. Who will be inside your bubble? How can families possibly choose among siblings, children, grandchildren, or grandparents? It must be agonizing for many people.

Why hasn’t anybody called you? You’ve been sitting quietly at home waiting for a phone call, a text, a Facebook message, a Messenger message, a WhatsApp message, an e-mail, an Instagram message, or a twitter message. In desperation, you have even checked your business contacts on LinkedIn. Occasionally, you look out the window for a smoke signal or a homing pigeon.

I hate to burst to burst your bubble, but you have no friends. You have suspected this for a long time but now it’s official. After being afforded the opportunity to co-mingle, no one has reached out to you. No one.

“I cried and cried all day; alone again, naturally.” Gilbert O’Sullivan

Yup. Come to think of it, this is not the first time you’ve been shunned. Remember in your childhood, those neighborhood pick up ball games? The word would go out that a ball game was going to be held in the field out back. Kids of all ages, sizes and abilities would come pouring out of their homes. Two children with obvious leadership qualities would be chosen captains and they would be left with the unenviable task of choosing players. You always had this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Previous experiences like this, even when you were playing Red Rover, yielded similar results. You were always chosen last.

You got over these sleights as the years passed. No, you didn’t. You realized at a young age that you were a first-class loser.

You brushed it off as childhood childishness, until you went to university, only to discover that a pattern was emerging. Back in the early 70s, a winter carnival was a staple of campus life. There were lots of outdoor activities, skating parties, snow sculpture contests, variety shows, pubs, and yes, a Winter Carnival Ball. Getting dressed up and escorting someone to the ball was just about as good as it got. Unless you were so socially inept, so much so that no self-respecting young woman would ever get caught dead with you anywhere within a 50- mile radius. And that was before metric. It sounds even worse when you say 80 kilometers.

But there’s always a silver lining. An alternate event was held for people like me. It was called The Loser’s Ball. I attended for three years in a row. Actually, from the reports I got, I may have had more fun at these rollicking events than if I had attended the real thing.

And now, you are a fully formed adult, getting on in years and are now facing the ultimate shunning. No one wants you inside their bubble. Nobody wants you on their team. At first you thought (naively) that you had a poor internet connection, but that notion was easily quashed. You look in the mirror and you are no better or worse looking than you were last week. You go to the grocery store and people say hello, so you are not a complete misfit.

“Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble.” Macbeth

All of a sudden, miraculously, you get a call from two different branches of the family wondering if you are in a bubbling mood. So desperate are you for having someone with a pulse to visit you that you commit the heinous crime of accepting two families into your bubble. You quickly realize that you are in double bubble trouble and will likely be hauled away by the Covid police.

Not to worry. When they take you to the lock up, they put you in solitary confinement which is just the way you like it.

 

 

 

Posted on May 18, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with 2 comments

 

Going bananas during isolation

 

Did you ever have one of those days when you felt like everything was a little off center? You wake up and in the first few minutes, something just doesn’t feel right. Your morning coffee has a bitter taste to it and your raisin toast gets burned even though you haven’t touched the settings on your toaster in weeks. And then things go downhill from there.

I had one of those days last Friday. After a few hours of missteps, I threw in the towel and did what any self-respecting person would do. When the world is slightly off kilter, go and bake something.

Now, I would hardly say that I am an expert pie maker. Peggy A.B. was in a league of her own. I sampled many of her apple pies and they were simply unparalleled. However, under the tutelage of my sister -in-law, I have become reasonably competent at this craft. The proof is in the pudding (or custard) as they say. I routinely share my pies with my siblings and they don’t seem to have any problem gagging down a slice of my coconut cream pie. Mind you, they are sugar addicts like me, so this is hardly a discerning crew!

I usually make enough dough for six single shell pies. I shape them like an oversized hockey puck and throw them in the freezer for future use. When I get a craving, I take some dough out the day before and let it thaw. I have done this enough times to know that this technique works perfectly…until it doesn’t.

As I had several things to do on Friday, I reckoned I would make the pie shell in the morning and then finish off the filling later in the day. Today’s offering would be a banana cream pie. Four slightly over ripe bananas sat on a shelf opposite my kitchen counter.

I sprinkled liberal doses of flour on the countertop and on the rolling pin and started rolling out the dough. If you’re not a baker, so far this story must remind you of watching paint dry. BORING! Everything was going along smoothly until I tried to transport the rolled out dough into the pie plate. For some reason, only known to the baking gods, it didn’t lift off the counter easily. As a matter of fact, the dough was uncooperative. I gently tried to slide a knife underneath it with poor results. It was like someone had put some crazy glue on the counter earlier in the morning. After some huffing and puffing and carefully chosen expletives, I was forced to bring in the wrecking ball. Have you ever witnessed someone shouting and cussing at pie dough? Sounds like isolation has claimed another victim.

I was forced to put the dough into the pie plate in pieces and form it into a shell. This was ominous. At one point, I was tempted to throw the works into the garbage and make a fresh batch of dough. I forgot to prick the pie shell with a fork which helps to release steam. I put on my pie weights and popped it into the oven. When it was cooked, I removed it from the oven. It looked like Mt.St. Helens had erupted. This was turning into an epic disaster.

I am happy to report that later in the morning, I prepared the custard filling without incident or a single curse word. If I had screwed this up, it might have been “custard’s last stand”.

After the pie cooled, I whipped up the whipping cream. With no grandchildren around, I licked the beaters. Some old habits die hard.

I was dealing with some other stressors that day so by mid afternoon, I was ready to indulge and get a much needed sugar high. I cut into the pie. The crust didn’t have its usual crusty and flaky appearance. Actually, I was the one feeling crusty and flaky. I slipped the pie server under the piece I had just cut. It didn’t dislodge easily. On close examination, it looked like the crust had somehow mutated into some other species. I was quickly coming to the realization that this wouldn’t be one of my pies that would be shared with humans. Seeing that I has single handedly killed this pie, I thought about donating it to the murder of crows who hang out near The Wheel Pizza and Sub Shop.

Using different techniques, I managed to extricate the slice of pie and went and sat in my easy chair. Finally, after a frustrating day, I could enjoy the fruits of my labour. Speaking of fruit, you may have noticed that I haven’t said much about the main ingredient in the pie – bananas.

I took my first bite. It was quite tasty. I mean, custard and whipped cream are a meal in themselves when push comes to shove. I took my second bite and I realized something wasn’t right. I could see that the crust was a disaster. It was like Quality Concrete has poured a basement and the cement didn’t quite set. It was gummy. I couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong until I went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. That is when I noticed the four over ripe bananas still sitting on the shelf opposite the counter.

Yes, folks, I was consuming the first ever “banana less cream pie”. My first inclination was to pie myself. Yup. Just take the pie and get the satisfaction of plowing it into my own face. I mean, how is it possible to make a pie and leave out the key ingredient that distinguishes it from other pies? Can you imagine Peggy A.B. forgetting to put apples in her pie? I was astonished at my ineptness and carelessness. That did not stop me from having a second piece later in the day.

I had planned on making supper but after this unmitigated disaster, I decided to play it safe and ordered a “super sub” from the Wheel.

I was sorely tempted to give the rest of the pie to the delivery person to see if they could take  it to the crows.

 

Posted on May 14, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

 

 

 

 

Health care heroes at our nursing home

 

“For the times, they are a changin.”

The Times They are a Changin – Bob Dylan

At least one hopes so.

The world is being transformed right before our eyes. Change is never easy but as has been said repeatedly, the only thing constant is change. But this is the big one, a once in a lifetime event,and the changes will wash over us like a tsunami. This is not just change. This is transformative change.

The Covid-19 pandemic has exposed many weaknesses in the health care system none more so (in my humble opinion) than long- term care facilities. I don’t know what the statistics are for the entire country but certainly the majority of deaths in Nova Scotia can be linked to long -term care homes.

Yes, I know. I have written about this before. This is not breaking news, but it is sad and distressing news. If we think the problems are bad now, just wait until the full force of the baby boom is felt. Obviously, the current model will not be sustainable as more and more people will require care. One can reasonably assume that people responsible for administering care for the aged see the looming crisis – a different crisis than Covid-19. There simply won’t be enough beds to fill the demands in the years ahead.

Home care and other non-institutional models must be pursued with vigor, but this will take time.

There will always be a need for long- term care facilities.

Publicly run nursing homes are not adequately funded. Many of the employees of these facilities are not properly compensated for the work they do. Some, like CCA’s are forced to work in more than one home to make ends meet. This has had disastrous consequences in other provinces. The work of people who keep these buildings clean goes unnoticed and underappreciated … until a pandemic arrives on the doorstep.

Governments are going to be under enormous pressure to do something about this situation. They are in crisis mode right now, but a day will come when the sun shines again and life will return to normal, whatever “normal” will look like.

With all due respect, I don’t think the final decision for matters relating to long term care matters should be left exclusively to the politicians and bureaucrats. We all have a say in how are loved ones are cared for. What can one person do to affect change? Not much but many voices could make a big difference.

I’m not an expert by any means on anything, let alone the funding of care facilities. I do know that health is generally considered a provincial matter but significant funding for health comes from the Federal government.

It might be time (while many of us have the time while in isolation) for the public to have a say.

I reached out to our Member of Parliament, Sean Fraser, last week to discuss this matter. He suggested a course of action which involves a petition to the Federal government to look at the chronic underfunding of long- term care facilities which includes wages. The more people who sign the petition, the stronger the voice. I will keep you posted but will be encouraging everyone to help with this initiative. This is a bit of a selfish endeavor for many of us baby boomers. While the current consumers of nursing home services are our parent’s generation, we’re breathing down their backs. We are going to need care in the not too distant future.

Stay tuned.

Tuesday of this week marked International Nurses Day.

Nurses are the glue that keeps the health care system functioning. I am 100% biased but I think Antigonish has been blessed for decades with some of the finest, most talented, and compassionate nurses on the planet. Like nursing homes, hospitals are operating under severe economic duress. The pressure is on nurses every day but during a pandemic it is even more apparent.

It is honorable to have an official day to recognize the work of the nursing profession. I would like to think that the citizens of our small town appreciate their work every single day of the year.

If only we could hug all of these health care workers to show them our appreciation.

Have a great and safe weekend.