We dropped off Nana's gigantic jar of M&M's to the receptionist and headed to our non-refundable hotel room for the night. The hardest part was explaining to Nana on Saturday morning why we couldn't visit after all. Even after that dreaded phone call, the pit in my stomach wouldn't go away. Not through Pennsylvania, Ohio or Indiana. But, at that point, I had no clue of the length and depth of this virus that sounded like a Mexican beer. Surely, the nursing home was just being extremely cautious.
A few days later, when restaurants and schools started to close here in Indiana, I had my first inkling that this thing was serious. When the news kept warning about the 'vulnerable population', I thought of people like Nana - in their 90's and in a nursing home. Except then I heard they also meant those over 65 were at higher risk. That's me. Was it even safe to go to my hair appointment? No worries on making that decision - my hair salon was forced to close too.
My only link to Nana was our daily phone calls, a normal routine for us. But part of that routine was also Nana asking me when I was coming to visit. Usually, on each call, I could give her a date on the calendar. Now, I can't.
Like most of us, Nana handles it better some days than others. She's comforted by the fact that she's safe and that her family is safe. We often talk about facing it 'one day at a time.' Other days, she doesn't understand and she cries. When we hang up, I cry too.
Although none of us deserve a pandemic, Nana shouldn't have to endure this. A childhood with a drunken and abusive father and an invalid mother. Living through World War II. A marriage that started with so much promise and turned into years of struggle. Long days working in a factory for a cold, over-bearing boss. Financial worries that followed her into her retirement years.
But Nana is a fighter. Through it all, she raised four pretty decent kids and helped raise two of her grandchildren. Her feisty independence served her well. She was driving until after the age of 90 and lived in her cozy apartment until her legs forced her into a wheel chair and to the Watsontown Nursing Center almost 2 years ago.
As most things in life, there's always some blessings if we look for them. Like the day, unprompted, Nana said how grateful she is to have a warm place to live and food to eat, especially her candy! I told her how thankful I am that I can talk to her on the phone everyday, even when I can't visit in person.
The nursing home is now providing an iPad so residents can do Facetime and Zoom with their loved ones. Nana and I have done a number of Zooms together. She has trouble hearing on the iPad but we've found using her phone to talk while we see each other on the screen solved the problem. Seeing her face, watching her smile, making her laugh and hearing her say, "You're a good girl," is the next best thing to being there with her.
On one of our recent Zoom calls, Nana was having so much trouble hearing me. I told her I hoped we'd be able to be together in person again soon. All she could hear me say was 'together again.' Nana broke into song, singing "Together Again." I didn't recognize the song but she knew all the words to several verses. I listened in awe as this amazing woman who's been through so much trial and heartache lifted me with her sweet voice.
Who knew that, even in a pandemic, Nana would show us how to survive?
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| Nana and Diane February 2020 |
