It has been so long since I wrote here that I actually forgot how to create a new post. So much for my January, 2020 promise to myself to maintain this blog and pretend to be a writer.

In January, I had felt so hopeful about the year ahead, had felt so certain that big changes were in store and that I would finally start feeling like myself again after a year of poor health and bad luck.

Certainly, the year started off well, as David and I spent a few winter weeks hiding from our Canadian winter in Nîmes, France. We rented a beautiful apartment in the city centre that was owned by a kind, thoughtful man who treated us like old friends.

Around the last week of January, David took the train to the Alps to spend a week skiing. He texted me frequently, marveling daily at the sheer volume of people around him. We also chatted about the news that there were a few covid-19 cases identified in France, as well as the lockdown occurring in Wuhan, but we never considered that covid might become a major problem.

We left France and returned to Canada around the end of February, flying through Marseille, then Heathrow airports. When we said goodbye to our landlord in Nîmes, I promised we would return the following year, since I was planning never to be in Ottawa again during the harshest part of our winters. But even as we were exchanging bisous with Patrice and his partner, I wondered if I’d be able to keep that promise. A lot can happen in a year, and I wondered if we’d be healthy enough to return, or whether we’d have enough money, or whether we’d be able to take the time away from work.

A couple of weeks after we returned home, the respiratory infection situation in Wuhan turned into the covid-19 global pandemic. In an instant, David was ordered to work from home, and we quickly rearranged furniture in our family room to convert it into his “office”. As a nurse, I suddenly became a very valuable commodity, along with all the other nurses and essential workers all over the world.

We were suddenly caught in an emergency situation, and like the outpost nurse that I am at heart, I responded in kind. I worked and worked, and told myself to accept any assignment presented to me because this is what nurses did in an emergency.

What I didn’t consider was that there would be no clear “end” to this emergency. No medevac would arrive to whisk the critically ill patient off to the big city hospital. No pre-term baby would be safely delivered, alive and crying loudly, her mother stable and relieved. There was only constant worry, constant fear, and more demands on health care workers and society in general.

We are now nearing 9 months into this pandemic, with no real sign of relief or an end. There’s talk of a vaccine, but anyone who is not Pollyanna knows that a vaccine will not instantly alleviate the suffering and despair of people all over the world.

In my own family, we have suffered the death of a relative due to covid, causing us profound grief in addition to the anxiety and fear we were already experiencing.

I continue to nurse and hopefully do my part to help guide my city through these terrifying covid times. But, like all essential workers, I’m starting to wear down a little. It’s hard to ask for a bit of rest when there is so much work that needs to get done, and so many people that need your help.

I know that one day, with luck and God’s grace, I will reflect on this time and search hard for all of the “positive” outcomes. But today, I’m not there. Today, I’m filled with grief, guilt, fear, and fatigue. I am irritable, sad, and impatient. I am also angry at nature, at our governments, and well, everyone! It is irrational, but there is nothing rational about emotions.

I had such hopes for 2020, but now I will just be happy if my friends and family remain healthy, and if the covid spread slows worldwide. I really wish that was not so much to ask.