Music Monday | Stars – Ayla Nereo

Around us, a pandemic rages, but new daily cases are dwindling under the Stage Four restrictions. A curfew is in place from 8pm until 5am. This means you must be at your home between these hours unless you are working (with a permit), seeking medical care, or providing care.

It is fifteen minutes until curfew as I pull into the underground garage of my temporary home. The rain spatters on my roof and windscreen as the GPS announces my arrival. Although I’ve driven the same twelve kilometres twenty times this month to and from the hospital where my husband is critically ill, I still use the GPS to keep me company. I cannot stomach music.

During the day, you may only leave your home to exercise (for one hour maximum), to shop for necessities (one person per household, for one hour maximum), to work (if you can’t work from home and have an applicable permit), to seek medical care, or for compassionate reasons. You must stay within five kilometres of your residence.

Due to the nature of my husband’s illness, I am allowed to visit, provided I maintain full self-isolation. I do not work. I do not exercise. I do not shop for necessities. Some incredible friends are doing this on my behalf followed by a contactless delivery drop to minimise my exposure to the outside world. Anything that arrives gets doused in Glen20 (Lysol), spends five days in quarantine in the spare room, and is soaped or disinfected further upon opening.

When you leave home, you must wear a face covering unless you have a lawful reason not to.

I wear two; a particulate filter mask beneath a surgical or cloth mask. I do not know if this is safer. I just know it feels safer.

I leave my home only to drive to the hospital and sit by a bed on the days they allow it.

On the other days, I disinfect the apartment from top to bottom. Again. Just in case. But no-one comes in. And I do not go out. I phone a friend. I pace. I try to shake it out. I cannot sit still long enough to read. I cannot sit still long enough to write.

The adrenaline bath inside my body turns every abnormal event to terror. Is that tickle in my throat because I haven’t drunk enough water, or is it covid? Is that weird, red colour on my toes because I’ve been been sitting on them squished up on the couch, or is it covid? Is that shortness of breath, panic and palpitations anxiety, or is it covid?

I’ve had two covid tests. Both negative. And I’ve not been anywhere except the hospital and the apartment in three and a half weeks. I do not have covid. But I still feel like I should have another test. Again. Perhaps one every day. Just in case. 

My OCD  thoughts and behaviours are out of control. Something I’d once managed has rewired itself in this pandemic, found a new obsession. Gifted me new compulsions. Now, personal safety (my previous OCD focus) and contamination are the same thing. Now, I do not want to leave the haven of the apartment, except for the hospital. Now, I want to disinfect the entire place, again, just in case.

The government keeps reminding us to stay home, soap and sanitise, wear a mask. How do I know where the line is between normal precautions and compulsions? How do I know when I’ve crossed it?

I don’t.

But I am learning to just be as I am, by grace and devotion to let go, to just let it be.

Happy Birthday, Lover

It’s a weird time to be a human. The death of George Floyd, Black Lives Matter, the continued fight against racism. Then we get zombie fires. Murder hornets. And a virus that has gripped the world. People are arguing about the ferocity of it, the origins of it, the meaning of it. But while we argue, the virus continues its course, infecting whomever it comes into contact with.

Australia has had relatively restrictive lock-downs, many of which have eased in recent weeks but with the easing, we’ve seen a rise in infections, particularly in my home state of Victoria. Travel bans that have been in place for months were rolled back at the beginning of June. At the same time those restrictions eased, so too, did the number of people allowed to congregate in people’s homes. It’s this family gathering that has seen infections spike, soaring back into double digits within the state.

This seems low when compared with somewhere like the United States of America, or the United Kingdom, or Europe but when you consider that until a couple of weeks ago, national infections were in single digits, it’s a worrying rise. As a result, last Sunday night, the Victorian government reduced the number of people allowed to gather in a single home from twenty back to five.

Chronic health issues and an autoimmune condition mean I have a moderate – high level of risk of complications should I become infected. I’ve been living in a bubble since March and have no real interest in leaving it. But it’s G’s birthday today and I had insisted he not revoke the week of annual leave he’d booked in November last year. It’s not our normal overseas holiday but it’s a much-needed break from work.

So we’ll make the most of it while we can and I’ll go back into isolation on Sunday. It’s his birthday today but I’m the one celebrating because on this day my favourite person in the world was born. Happy Birthday, lover!

A Birthday
By Christina Rossetti
My heart is like a singing bird
                  Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
                  Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
                  That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
                  Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
                  Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
                  And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
                  In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
                  Is come, my love is come to me.