Banana Bread in the Time of Pandemic
Indeed, it is quite difficult to be anxious or sad or anything but satisfied while enjoying a piece of banana bread, dotted with melting chocolate chips, warm from the oven and prepared by one’s lovely daughter. Mmmmmmm….sweet… for the moment.
The truth is: I am blessed. My pantry is full. I’m locked down with my husband and only “child.” I’ve got three long haired miniature dachshunds, wonderfully caring and supportive neighbors and a beautiful garden, courtesy my husband. I have every reason to be grateful. And, I am.
And, yet one can juggle many emotions. Blessed, yet stressed.
We have now lost 64,000 people in less than two months. Nearly 2,500 people die every day. The last time I remember viewing death tolls on a daily basis, I was a young teenager and we were involved in a needless conflict in Vietnam. I recall one of my heroes, Walter Cronkite, coming into my family room five nights a week with the grim numbers, pictures and stories.
Now, I can not help but express shock every time I look at the ever increasing numbers. We’ve lost more people in six weeks than the Vietnam War took in 19 years. Those numbers sometimes make sleep difficult. One night I dreamt that Gavin Newsom was not the Governor of California, but instead the President of the United States. Dreams dashed, at 2:30 in the morning, I found myself ordering toilet paper, bleach and a bit of chocolate from Walmart. I try to avoid the temptation to view the latest news on CNN or the New York Times in the dark of night, but most times I can not stay away. There is no good news, it seems.
I am one of the lucky ones.
And, yet, I worry. My 90 year old mother in law called yesterday to say she felt unwell. She was experiencing some of the symptoms of Covid 19. She is residing at a retirement community two and a half hours from my home. (Why mention that? Doesn’t matter. We can’t be there.) The on-site nurse visited her in her apartment and told her that they could not transport her to get a test. She’d have to drive herself or travel by ambulance. The trip was only a mile down the road and so she drove and took a test and was told she’d get the results in a week. The reality is that there is no medical intervention with this disease until you can’t breathe.
From my front porch where I go for a change of scenery, I watch neighbors and passers by. During the early days of the stay at home order, we were all so diligent. But the introverts are now having trouble consistently maintaining six feet in distance. These are the people who are the most fun at parties. We all know them. Some are young and seemingly healthy, others are in high risk groups. I look away.
It is one thing for me to worry, but a far worse thing for me to know that my daughter is worrying. And, of course, she is. I love to chant at her, “you’re trapped with us,” in my sing-songy way. She was two weeks into her first post-college job and just beginning to search for an apartment when the pandemic hit.
She’s been working on a group project with a co-worker in a similar situation. He’s living in his family home after transferring from another city. He’s trapped, too, but his parents are “even more elderly” I’m told. When they aren’t talking work, they’ve shared concerns about the day they’ll return to the office. They are both worried they’ll expose those they love to the virus.
There are so many who are suffering so much now. And, this weighs heavily on me. I’m a doer and so I search for ways to help. And, of course, there are always small things one can do even from one’s home. These are the acts that help me to cope.
And the good moments. There are still so many to enjoy. As I said, I’m one of the lucky ones.
I’ve actively managed my mental health and well-being in the 20 years since I slipped into depression as a result of my brother’s cancer diagnosis. I am currently drug-free. But as my doctor says, “you’re ahead of the game…you’ve got a drug that you know works for you.” My friend, Prozac. I know it’s there. And, I’m confident I’ll know if I need to turn to it again. I’ll do that without hesitation. Just one more thing to thank the brilliant scientific minds for.
But, in the meantime, I’m reminding myself of the wisdom gained from a special counselor who over several years of weekly visits gave me wise advice to turn to in so many situations.
I can imagine her sitting across the room from me now.
“I really have no reason to feel sad when I am in such a good place compared with so many others,” I’d begin.
“It’s a pandemic, the first in our lifetimes. I’d say your feelings …anxiety, worry, concern, sadness…sound reasonable. And, so you must…”
“Make friends with the feelings,” we’d say together.
“And give yourself permission to let in the joy, wonder and beauty that life offers…still.”
She was such a wise woman. Gone but still helping me live my best life. I refer to her as one of my “angels,” the people who have lived in my world for a time and made it better forever.
And so, I’ll begin another day at home appreciating my life and allowing my feelings to come and go. I’ll get by in the same way I always do…with the love of family and a little help from my friends, sweetened by my daughter’s presence, and of course, her banana bread.