Life in the Times of Coronavirus: Lockdown Days 24-27
SOURCE: Literland.
Today is day 27 of the government-enforced lockdown in Spain. The coronavirus pandemic is still in full swing here, but the good news is that the situation seems to be improving. We have seen a decrease in new infections and deaths, which is certainly welcome news. The total cases stand at a mind-boggling 152,000 confirmed cases (with 31,000 in Catalonia) and with just under 300 in Cerdanyola. Today the prime minister appeared on television, announcing that the worst seemed to be behind us, but we still have a long way to go.
We will also most likely be under lockdown through the end of the month, though it seems that there is some disagreement between the central government and the Catalan parliament. The central government is planning on lifting some of the restrictions on Monday: namely, they want to let workers considered non-essential to get back to work. The Catalan government, meanwhile, wants to extend the full lockdown until at least the end of the month. The central government in Madrid has the ultimate word, though, and the regional parliament has decided to provide all Catalan citizens with up to two free face masks for its 7.5 million residents.
As for me, I haven’t been able to update my blog since Saturday owing to a very painful stye on my left eye. It began as a simple itch that, owing to the current circumstances here, I resisted scratching lest I unwittingly infect myself with the coronavirus. The pain began on Sunday, and by Monday my eyelid had swollen to twice its normal size. Tuesday and it became so painful and enlarged that I asked Franky to pick up some antibacterial ointment for me at the pharmacy. If you’ve ever had a stye, you know how uncomfortable it can be. So, per my doctor’s orders, I took a rest from any type of screens and basically lay back on the couch, listening to Levar Burton read stories on NPR.
As I lay there staring up at the ceiling, letting myself get lost in the story and in the cadence of the sentences, I started to experience something that I quite honestly hadn’t realized until I was forced to nurse my eye. I couldn’t work, couldn’t be on social media, and couldn’t do much else other than perhaps cook for a bit until my eyelid started throbbing with pain. I realized, stretched out on the couch, watching the light shift from the strong rays of the early afternoon to the meek twilight, that I was able to relax—finally—for the first time in weeks.
This may seem strange to you: shouldn’t being at home be somewhat relaxing, in some ways at least? Not exactly in my case.
First, I have the kind of personality where I can’t sit still. It doesn’t matter if I’m tired, on the phone, or feeling feverish: I always have to be doing something. This might be some housework, working on a story, calling a friend, or something of the sort. I’ve never been the kind to sit in front of the television or play videogames for hours. And also, though many Spanish customs have rubbed off on me after living here for nearly a decade, I am not a fan of siestas. I check email, read a book, take pictures – anything but sit idle. I just can’t.
Even when the pandemic hit Barcelona last month, I kept trying to stick to business as usual. I freelance and so I work at home, so not much changed for me initially. Indeed, my workload seemed to increase so I worked as much as I could to make up for any potential losses I might see this month (I’ve seen a drop of about 40% in my economic activity.) I worked, wrote, and worked out whenever I could to distract myself from all the bad news. I processed my feelings through this blog or by talking to friends, but other than that, I hadn’t really just let myself contemplate the many and complicated emotions that I’d been experiencing since the pandemic hit Catalonia.
Until, that is, the stye forced me to take a break from everything, especially work. I’ve seen a number of posts saying that it’s okay for folks to not feel the pressure to be productive during the lockdown period: some of us just needed a rest. I have friends and family members who are taking this time to reconnect with the people that are important in their lives without needing to rush off to work every morning and to return late at night. We are fortunate to have a government here that is (for the large part) taking care of its citizens, and while its actions have certainly not been perfect, most don’t need to worry so much about their next paycheck as it’s on its way. Time is a rare gift, and many people I know are spending this time well given the circumstances.
The stye served as a reminder for me to stop and examine the busy life I lead. Much like when I broke my ankle back in 2012, a physical malady always forces me to stop and listen. Being productive is good, of course, but so is stopping and really getting in touch with what’s going on deep in your own psyche. Writing helps me enter that reflective space, but for me to find the words more easily I need to simply sit back and let the world spin without me feeling like I need to lend it a hand. There is solace in being able to accept the simple wisdom that comes in the form of a respite from the world that existed just 28 days ago. I am doing my best to heed my own advice and to not overwork myself, and to allow myself the freedom of an hour to simply sit on my balcony in the sun and listen to the wind thread its way through the trees. This is a luxury I didn’t have before the pandemic broke out.
I’ve also been counting my blessings. Maria, my mother-in-law, has almost fully recovered from what we presume was the coronavirus. (She refers to it as el bicho, literally “the bug.”) She cannot leave her flat for at least another 10 days in keeping with strict medical advice, but she’s also never been able to sit still. María tells me of night spent staring at the television screen, of watching the sun illuminate the ceiling as it rises every morning, of her staring forlornly out the window of her fourth-story flat down at the dead street below. She misses her friends, she says, and she’s feeling lonely shuttered up in the flat all by herself.
This isolation was compounded this morning, when Franky took her groceries. When he opened the elevator door, she was standing in the doorway, eager to greet the son she hasn’t seen in more than a month. Franky—wearing a face mask, bandana, sunglasses and gloves—stopped in his steps. He was nearly six meters away, he told me later, but it broke his heart to see his mother standing there and him being unable to embrace her. She knew that she couldn’t come nearer, and that she had to basically stay there while Franky set the bag of groceries on the floor for her to collect later on. But her need for human interaction is so great right now, as it is for a lot of people around Spain and the world, that just seeing the top of her son’s head as he bent down to leave the bananas and turkey meat was enough to get her through the morning. We still have a few weeks to go before we can all see each other, but this really served to underscore the pain that we’re all experiencing at the moment.
I can’t complain much. Rather, I won’t let myself. I am locked up inside my house, yes, but I have my husband, savings, health, and the virtual company of friends and family. We have a full fridge and pantry and all of our loved ones are healthy. Work is important, of course, and I certainly want to keep making progress on my writing projects. But just as critical is taking the time to stop, breathe, and simply exist despite the very real pain that we’re all collectively experiencing. Because, as I’ve found these last few days, sometimes simply letting your mind wander and allowing your heart to feel (pain, fear, confusion, joy) brings you more wisdom than constantly having to control the narrative of your days. And sometimes it takes a broken ankle or a nasty-looking stye to remind you.