It’s been such a strange waiting period. Canadians holding our breath—while we can—waiting to see what will happen.

But it feels as if it’s getting closer. 

A dear friend in England woke up on Thursday feeling awful. He’d just arranged his job so he could work at home, but he’d been in the office until then. 

They don’t know whether it’s an ordinary flu or the novel coronavirus—there’s a shortage of test kits—but the quarantine measures are the same. He has to stay at home unless and until. Not that he’s felt well enough to get out of bed anyway, except for a video call with his family on Saturday night, which was his and his wife’s joint birthday. 

Fortunately our friend’s daughter and daughter-in-law are both doctors who can keep a long-distance eye on him, and as of yesterday he had no symptoms of pneumonia. His daughter is an ob-gyn who was on leave to do a PhD while his daughter-in-law is a paediatric surgeon. The British National Health Service has called both in for emergency service outside their specialities, with his daughter dropping the PhD to work on the front lines. I’m worried about them. 

Worried about all medical personnel, including the personal support worker who helps my husband on Mondays. He just rode off on his bike in the pelting rain, too scared to take public transit. Some of his co-workers have had their hours cut, with vulnerable clients worried about letting anyone into the house. They’ve asked for danger pay. 

Meanwhile, my husband’s sister was told ten days ago that someone she’d worked with closely the previous week had arrived at a Toronto hospital with pneumonia and all the symptoms of C-19.

They didn’t test the woman since she hadn’t travelled and they were short on test kits, too. But since my husband’s sister and she were in contact, my sister-in-law is now isolating at home, counting down the days until Thursday when she’ll be in the clear. The day she was notified was scary, but so far she feels fine. Fingers crossed.

Another great friend reports that her daughter’s roommate recently arrived back in Toronto from a vacation in Spain. Her daughter asked the roommate to stay in an air bnb for the self-isolation period, which is just as well. The roommate developed the virus. My friend’s daughter is now delivering groceries to her while they talk from three meters away. 

My friend’s other daughter is a nurse in BC, working in triage in a hospital emergency department as well as testing medical personnel for the virus. See above re: being worried about medicos. She’s the only one in her house of five millennials who is left with a job. They can pay April’s rent but don’t know about May. So there’s that, too.

The list gets long, and there are side worries. One of my cousins is scheduled for cancer surgery this week and isn’t sure whether it’s going to happen. Colon cancer, recently diagnosed. He’s been told to continue the pre-operation prep but that the surgery might be postponed if hospitals are swamped. My cousin is a single man living alone, so his brother was planning to drive out from BC to take care of him. He doesn’t know what to do now. 

With 800 Italians dying on Saturday, I’m well aware that this is all traumatizing but it’s also comparatively mild. Comparatively. So far. 

A tiny sidelight of good news. I stepped on the scales this morning and found I’ve lost five pounds over the past three weeks. I also feel that my flu is lifting. I finally started feeling human on Saturday after sleeping until 9:50 a.m. I might have slept longer but my cat woke me up wanting his breakfast.

This delicate little clawless tap of the pads of his paw on my cheek. That’s him above.

With my husband’s MS, we’ll continue to self-isolate, but I’ll be able to go out soon on socially-distanced trips to the grocery store. I now put myself at about 90 percent of normal, which is a relief. If I get C-19, I’ll have a better chance of fighting it.

But here’s the equivocal thing. Suddenly those five pounds look like a cushion. I mean,  in a different way. Reserves of energy if I get sick again.

Excuse me while I go eat some chocolate