The trip to England
I didn’t expect the Corona measures to hit me so hard.
In January I went to England with our youngest daughter (22 years old already!) to visit family and friends. My daughter had become the godmother of the daughter of a very good family friend. It is her second child. I follow them on Facebook, but my stroke intervened and in early January I still hadn’t seen either child. Hence the journey.
We planned and booked everything together, and on a cold winter’s morning, we caught the tram in Tervuren to Brussels South Station and the Eurostar. It was not the first time that I had gone abroad with Nino, but it was the first time without wife and car, as a foot passenger.
Back in Belgium
During our trip I had to do a lot for myself. My daughter was really helpful, but I still had many decisions to make, and I felt good about the whole trip. For me it was a kind of celebration of my progress over the past two years – a grateful acknowledgment of the transition to a little more independence.
During the first week of February I returned to Belgium, tired, but very satisfied. There were rumours on television about a virus spreading in China, but it seemed a long way off. I threw myself back into everyday life: a few times a week by tram and metro to the Oasis office in Brussels; a regular lunch appointment with former colleagues; rehearsals with People’s Cap; walks with Nino in the forest or the park, with a cup of coffee in the cafe on the way back; occasionally popping into a shop; going by bus to Leuven and once visiting friends by train in Gent. All these were things that had become so routine that I hardly thought about them anymore.
In retrospect, I am very pleased that I was able to learn to do all this in such a relatively short time with the limitations that I have now. Compared to what I was able to do during the first few days after the stroke, the difference is astonishing. Even at the time of my discharge from hospital, I was far from certain that a useful life would still be possible. I had yet to learn any mobility skills. That turned out to be a difficult process with many ups and downs, sometimes quite literally! I owe a great deal to the people who believed in me and taught me the necessary insights and skills.
Social distancing?
In the early weeks of March, it became clear that the virus, which had seemed so far away, was rapidly approaching. We heard about lockdown and quarantine. Then we learned a new phrase, which came from the English: “social distancing”. In order not to be infected and to keep the virus under control, it was important that people stay at an appropriate distance from each other. Surely that had to be a good thing? But for me warning bells were ringing. How can you do that if you cannot judge distances?
Lockdown
From the moment the lockdown went into effect, it was clear that I wouldn’t be going outside much for the time being, and that still remains largely the case. Everyone suffered from this, of course, but for someone like me from the risk group it was especially important to isolate yourself well. Gradually we heard of the first infections, and they were quickly followed by the first deaths. Almost the only news we got to see on television was about the virus. Daily reports of hospital admissions and deaths soon became normal. All things we never thought we would have to experience. For the members of a highly developed society, as we like to think of ourselves, the unthinkable had now become reality at breath-taking speed. Then I heard of friends and acquaintances who had ended up in intensive care with the virus. Everything came horribly close.
Of course, I can’t stay completely shut away. I have a guide dog, and he also has needs that have to be met – enough activity, plenty of exercise and regular walks. He also needs to keep working so that he doesn’t forget his job. But there are four adults in our house, and everyone wants to escape with the dog sometimes. He does not really get enough guiding work. And for me, practicing with Nino is no longer easy. He is very clever and does a lot for me, but he has never heard of “social distancing”. When someone passes us on the pavement, I have no idea of the distance between us. Am I too close? Have I taken too much of a risk? These are questions I cannot possibly answer. Often, I’m not even aware of other people around us when we are on the streets.
The forest path
At home of course, everyone knows that I am unable to do social distancing. And so, when I go to the centre of Tervuren, they want someone to come with me to make sure I can keep my distance.
And the forest path that starts fifty metres from our door is less than a meter wide for the first two kilometres. Normally Nino and I have to walk behind each other for that part, and when someone comes from the other direction, I always find it difficult, even when we don’t have to do social distancing.
The whole path is too narrow to take Nino at my side in harness, so I take him on a leash, which he likes as he gets some time off duty. He still looks out for me, but not in the same way as when he’s working in harness. If anyone needs to cross us on the path, I don’t see them in time. And they don’t know I’m blind and that Nino is my guide dog. Normally that is not a big problem, but it has suddenly become one. I have still not found a real solution. Normally this is a good route for me, far away from traffic, and it no longer seems so safe.
Easings
As I’m writing, the first easings of the lockdown have started. Most shops are opening again this week, and normal life is gradually returning. There are new rules for this, of course, and they are urgently needed if we don’t want to see unnecessary fatalities. But the rules are simply impossible for me to follow.
Today, for example, I go with my wife to the supermarket by car. Nino is with us and working in harness. There is a well organised queue to enter the shop, with everyone at an appropriate and healthy distance. My wife takes us to the beginning of the queue and, every time it moves forward, she leads me by the arm to the next place. Apparently, markings have now been made with tape, showing where to stand. But because of the stress of everything being different I can’t see them, and Nino doesn’t know what to look for. I’m already feeling like a fish out of water, but when we go inside it really hits me.
Lost in the supermarket
I have come to know this supermarket really well, and that’s a real achievement. Supermarkets are one of the most difficult environments I know. So many colors and shapes everywhere you look; so many people and shopping carts on the move; nothing is predictable to me and very little is immediately recognizable. At first, I found it downright frightening. Actually, I still do, but I have learned to handle it better than I used to.
I haven’t been here by myself yet to do the shopping – unfortunately that is still beyond me. But I do come here with my wife sometimes, at least if she has enough time, because when I come it always takes longer. I know how to find everything I would normally buy. I know how to go from the bakery through the fruits and vegetables to the cheese and meat; how to find coffee, tea, oatmeal, milk, jam, chocolate, sugar, olive oil and, of course, beer. And much more!
Nino’s arrival has made things easier. He ensures that we can get to wherever I need to be without being afraid of bumping in to other people. It took a lot of hard work and energy to learn to do all that, to say nothing of the input from my mobility trainers.
One way
But today I suddenly have no idea which way to go. Everything is in the same place. At least I think it is, but I’m not sure. A one-way traffic system has now been implemented, with directions marked in tape on the floor. But to my dismay, I am not allowed to follow my usual route this time. If I do, I might go the wrong way and impede other people.
So, I go along meekly with my wife in the one-way system. After twice making an unexpected turn, I suddenly don’t know where I am any more. It takes a while to realize that I am hopelessly lost in this familiar environment.
A world I can take part in?
My trip to England wasn’t so very long ago. Tram, bus, metro, train, shops and independence. They all seem so far away now, in another world. A world that I could join in with. Will I get that world back? Maybe, maybe not. But it won’t be any time soon. And it won’t be the same world anymore. New rules and arrangements will have to be made, and they will probably be permanent. I just hope that it is carefully considered; that everyone will be able to participate in that new world. One thing is certain: there will be a lot for me to relearn.
Be First to Comment