Category: Life (Page 3 of 3)

My Experience With Covid Part 2

April 15, 2022 / Hughena MacDougall / 3 Comments

Day 3 Friday April 15/22 – I woke myself up, at 6am, coughing and I coughed pretty much steady until 6:30. I’ll take two positives from this; 1) I was asleep and 2) I woke up. As I layed there I heard the eagle calling. I swear he/she knows there is something up and they were concerned. I also heard many songbirds singing, seagulls and ducks calling, a bluejay and a woodpecker. Not a hard way to wake up in the morning. Before I knew it, it was 8am. I had fallen back to sleep listening to the symphony of birds. Lucky me. Overall I think I’m better this morning. I don’t seem to be as sore and the soreness I do have is likely caused by coughing. I don’t have a headache yet, so hoping that is gone for the duration of this virus. However, the cough I have is no longer a dry hacky annoying cough, but a deeper cough with phlegm.

Mom’s PCR test is still not back. I checked the portal in case we just didn’t get the email, but there is nothing available. I can only assume no news is good news and she is negative. She is still not showing any symptoms and when I ask how she is feeling her response is “I feel great”. Let’s hope that remains the case.

One thing about today is that it is Good Friday. Our office is closed, so I don’t feel bad not being at work. I won’t have to think about feeling guilty today.

I’m overwhelmed by the outpouring of messages and phone calls from people offering to pick groceries up, or help in any way. Seriously, it’s more than I could ever have thought possible. I didn’t post my Covid blog for attention but just so others who may end up with it will have something to compare too. I know everyone responds differently to Covid, but sharing my experience may alleviate others worries. However, it has been nothing short of amazing. You know you live in a special place when so many people reach out at a time like this. I am forever thankful to live where I do. I will not try to name people, as I will surely miss some, but to those of you who have been in touch via email, facebook, phone calls, etc. many many thanks. I may not be feeling good but my heart is so very happy.

When we had our PCR tests we were each given a box of rapid tests. Rapid test boxes seemed to be hard to come by in Nova Scotia. I had received only one box of tests and it came from a lady from Saskatchewan. She happened to stop by, with a mutual friend of ours, when I was out walking,

and somehow we talked about rapid tests and how they were very hard to find here. She immediately offered a box as she had packed 6 boxes for her trip to Cape Breton. We should be all set for a while now.

Speaking of PCR tests Mom’s finally came back this afternoon and she was negative. She also received a call from the doctor’s office informing her she was negative. I can’t imagine the extra workload the doctors are doing, to inform everyone of their status.

I’m trying to see the good in everything. Today we were due to go to Sandy’s and Greg’s for Easter, but obviously we can’t go. I had bought tons of chocolate eggs to hide around their house. One year they had done this to us, and I swear we were still finding them in July. I guess we’ll have to eat them ourselves. Someone suggested hiding them and have an egg hunt. Interesting idea. It would be similar to Mr. Bean sending himself the Christmas cards and getting excited about it.

I mentioned that I thought I was feeling better this morning but as the day went on that doesn’t appear to be the case. I was back in bed at 10am, for an hour and a half. I got up for lunch and was back in bed from 1-3pm. During this afternoon I developed a terrible sore throat, which seems to be more than an irritation from coughing. More Tylenol I guess.

I’ll finish up saying don’t take this lightly. Continue to mask and wash your hands. Because if you don’t;

Abra-abra-cadabra
It could reach out and grab ya.

Be well, be safe.

April 4, 2022 / Hughena MacDougall / 6 Comments

I have had some requests to post more of my poetry, so here goes.

There is a bit of a background story to this one. And a lot of ‘what if’s’. I’ll talk about the ‘what if’s’ later. A few years ago, upon arriving home from work one Friday evening in March, I noticed that I only had one headlight. On Saturday evening Mom and I were going to a concert. I thought about going in town on Saturday morning, to get the bulb replaced, but I decided I wouldn’t bother with it until Monday when I went to work. My workplace had a mechanic and I knew it wouldn’t take long for him to replace it. I decided through the night that I would go in town on Saturday to have the headlight fixed. I was going to be travelling on back roads, going to the concert, and wanted to be sure I had the best vision possible. I also thought, with my luck, that I would likely be stopped by the RCMP and fined if I tried driving with only one headlight. I woke up early, because I wanted to get into town and back quickly. I put on a heavy burgundy winter jacket, but when I went outside I found it was very warm, so I changed to a black vest. At the last minute Mom suggested getting batteries, because the time was changing soon and she didn’t have enough for the clocks and smoke detectors. Since the time wasn’t changing that weekend, I told her I really didn’t want to spend anymore time in town than I had to, and I’d pick them up on a lunch break the following week.

My plan was to pick up the bulb, stop by my workplace to see if the mechanic happened to be working on Saturday, and have him replace it. And that is exactly what I did. It took no time to have my headlight back in operation and I could head home. Since it didn’t take long, I decided at the last minute, to go to Walmart to pick up the batteries Mom wanted. There were very few cars in the parking lot. As I got out of my car, a man emerged from a red car and started to approach me. I was taken aback, as he came directly towards me and appeared upset. He said ‘can you help me? My wife has gone and I don’t know where she is.’ I’m sure my face had a look of confusion. Then he continued. He pointed to the opposite end of the mall and said ‘she went that way. She’s gone. I don’t know where she went.’. As he spoke he was becoming more agitated. I explained that nothing was open in the mall but Walmart, and not to worry she would be back. I offered to check Walmart to see if I could find her. I asked him what her name was. He said ‘her name is Mildred.’ I asked what she was wearing. He said ‘a coat of, of….’ and he then reached out and touched my vest and said ‘a coat of this colour’. I encouraged him to get back in the car to wait for her, while I went in the store. I told him if I didn’t find her I’d come back to help him. He got back in the red car and I went into Walmart and looked around. There were not too many people inside, as it was still early. I went up and down the aisles, but I didn’t see anyone who I thought would be Mildred. The people were either much younger than I would have thought Mildred to be, or not wearing anything close to black. I picked up the batteries, before checking the aisles again. At the end of one of the last aisles I saw a lady that could possibly be Mildred. She looked to be the age I thought she might be, but she was wearing a coat of navy blue. I had nothing to lose and went up to her and asked if her name was Mildred. She smiled and said ‘no. My name is Jean.’ I apologized for interrupting her and said that I was trying to help a man find his wife. I briefly explained, and her face dropped. She asked me if he was sitting in a red car. I said he was. She said ‘that’s my husband’. She abandoned her shopping cart and rushed towards the exit, as I went to the cash. As she exited, she looked back and said ‘thank you. Thank you so much’.

When I got home I wrote this in about 15 minutes.

He Didn't Know Her Name

Can you help me please? I've lost my wife.
I saw her walking, she's my whole life.
Bring her back, I'll wait right here.
She's wearing a black coat, I know she's there.
Her name is Mildred, I love her so.
Why did she leave me?  Where did she go?

I strolled the aisles, no one to find.
I searched and searched, she must be kind.
I saw a lady, in my view.
But she wore a coat of navy blue.
This could be her, I have a task.
Is your name Mildred, I have to ask.

No it's not, her smile so warm
My name is Jean, she did inform.
I said a husband has lost his wife.
He's in the parking lot, she's his life.
Her face was stricken, I read the fear.
"Is he in a red car? I parked so near."

I said he was, it might be him
She said his mind is growing dim.
She thanked me so and rushed outside.
I felt her pain, I could have cried.
Such a pity, no one to blame
How sad he didn't know her name. 

~Hughena MacDougall
March 2014

Now the ‘what if’s’. What if the headlight didn’t burn out? What if I hadn’t noticed the headlight? What if I stuck with my first plan to have it replaced the following week? What if I hadn’t changed from a burgundy coat to a black vest? What if I hadn’t stopped for the batteries? What if I had ignored the man? What if I hadn’t looked for his wife?

I have wondered about this couple ever since. What became of him and his illness? Obviously he probably didn’t get better. Did his wife realize he was as confused as he appeared that day? Who was Mildred? A former wife? A long lost love? His mother? Is he still living? How is Jean coping? Whatever the situation, I hope they had/have support along their journey.

(Names have been changed, so as to not identify the couple. I really have no idea who they were, or where they were from.)

ABE’S WAY

March 26, 2022 / Hughena MacDougall / 4 Comments

Many of you reading this probably read it when I posted it on my Facebook site, but there are a few that aren’t on Facebook that might like to see it. Also, I’ll explain how I came to write Abe’s Way.

I am a member of an online writing group, led by the amazing Marjorie Simmins. I have taken several in-person writing workshops from Marjorie and have been involved in the online group for several months now. We have members from Coast to Coast to Coast in Canada. I am by far the weakest writer in the group, but I love being included. Many are accomplished writers, having many published works. But I look at writing the way I looked at playing various sports; you need to compete (although our group is not a competition in any way) against more skilled people to improve. If you only compete against people of the same caliber or weaker, then you will never improve. To be surrounded by so many outstanding writers, I can only learn more and improve myself.

We meet once every 4 weeks, online, for 2.5 hours. We are given a prompt, idea, suggestion, to work on, but we are not compelled to write about the idea if it doesn’t speak to us. For several weeks nothing spoke to me. My mind was too busy with the current state of affairs of our world. I could not settle it enough to compile anything. And the harder I tried, the more frustrated I became.

On March 5th we were given three prompts, which we could choose to write about, or not write about if we had something else in mind. They were interesting prompts and I settled on “the old man walked down the country lane carrying a suitcase and an empty birdcage.” I thought about it Saturday, after our class, and into Sunday. As Marjorie says, my mind was ‘percolating’. On Sunday evening I curled up on the couch, under my favourite blanket, with a pencil and paper in hand and started to scribble. I knew the old man would have to meet people on his walk, but who. I first thought he would meet a young child, and then the lightbulb came on. I would have him meet himself as a young child, and then as a young adult in the military, and this he’d meet his family. When he grew tired, he would stop to rest and open up the suitcase. But the birdcage, what would I do about that. As I scribbled, ideas popped into my head, and just flowed out through my pencil. He was reflecting on his life, he family, his wife Mary and the wee daughter who died young. Oh my gosh, I was getting attached to Abe and he honestly caused me to become emotional. I tried to tell my Mom about what I was writing and became choked up. I know, crazy. Anyway, I scribbled for about 10 minutes and had the gist of the poem set. On Monday evening I spent about 2 hours reworking it, adding to it, taking some stuff out, until the following became the finished product.

Abe’s Way

As Abe began his journey

Along the lush and brilliant lane

He clutched a birdcage and a suitcase

But he left behind his cane.

He shuffled along in slippers

His memories growing dim

His eyes were tired and teary

His dentures were not in.

He soon met a young lad running

With hair like Abe’s so fair

A bat, with glove dangling from it

A ball he tossed in the air.

“Hey there boy. Where are you going?”

He called out to the lad

But he didn’t hear the old man’s voice

To the field he ran like mad.

Abe’s memory started to come back

How he ran the bases four

As homer after homer he hit

That ball he could make soar.

He carried on along the road

The road to who knows where

When to his delight he saw a man

A man, he knew, did care.

As the distance started to diminish

Abe saw the young man’s dress

His uniform pressed so precise

With medals on his chest.

He carefully placed his belongings

Upon the lush and soft green grass

Abe stood up tall and so erect

As he saluted, with military class.

Much to Abe’s surprise again

The serviceman marched on by

To fight the enemy and keep us safe

Until peace was restored on high.

He picked up his possessions

As he scuffed along the lane

Up the steep hill he did climb

His breathing causing strain.

And then he saw a beautiful lady

Someone he thought he knew

He called out ‘Mary, there you are’

But she just walked on through.

Trailing her were four young children

A boy and three girls of blond

Just like his own so long ago

Before young Annie was gone.

This journey made him grow so tired

A bench he stopped to rest

He opened up his old valise

To see what he had left.

He pulled out an old ball glove

Tarnished medals and a beret

A family portrait torn and tattered

His family. Where are they?

He touched the face of little Annie

Her blond curls were so dear

A tear rolled down his weathered face

He knew his time was near.

A nurse came to his room at eight

His needs she would have tended

But he had passed away that night

His journey now had ended.

She noticed one lone tear he shed

His cheek showed a faint stain

But a smile slight she could detect

He was no longer in pain.

They opened up his suitcase

“What’s in it?” said the staff

And there they found his dentures

Abe gave them a final laugh.

He never liked to wear them

They never seemed to fit

He hid them daily on the crew

Always trying to outwit.

The empty bird cage is a mystery

Whatever could it mean

Underneath they found a letter

He wanted it to be seen.

Set your goals with enthusiasm

Live your life, be free

See, and do, all that you want

Soar high above the sea,

Don’t cage your dreams and close the door

And not experience life’s beauty

Go forth, and spread your wings so wide

Abe says that is your duty.

~Hughena MacDougall (March 2022)

So there you have it. The bird cage contained a message. A week or so after I wrote this, I went back to re-read it. I have no clue where any of this came from. I don’t remember thinking much about writing it, as it just came out. I guess the thinking was in the ‘percolation’ period, as the words moved and filtered in my brain. I have no idea where the name Abe came from, as it just appeared on the paper. And I had no clue how I was going to work the bird cage in until I got to the very end. After the struggles I had for the previous weeks, I’m surprised that it really didn’t take a lot of effort to write this. I don’t believe I have ever written a poem that wasn’t fact based and this is anything but. This is total fiction. It’s all very perplexing to me, but I’m pleased with the end result.

I hope you enjoyed reading the poem and the process to how it came to be. Please leave a comment if you liked it, if you didn’t like it, or if you’d like to see more of my poems.

Slow Down

January 8, 2022 / Hughena MacDougall / 14 Comments

I’ve always had a problem pacing myself. I’ve felt guilty if I take an hour or two, and do nothing, or do things I enjoy. I usually only allow myself this freedom if I’ve accomplished several chores beforehand. I’ve decided it is time to allow some ‘me’ time and not feel guilty.

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Leading up to Christmas, I felt like the Energizer Bunny. I kept running and running and running, the batteries were growing weaker, but I kept running, and then the batteries died and I hit the wall running. It hurts. It really does. Suddenly you can’t run anymore. You’re energy is zapped. You can’t concentrate like you usually can. Every little thing becomes huge. Normal sounds become noise. This is not uncommon for someone in my situation. However the important thing is to recognize it, recharge the batteries, and continue on, putting one foot in front of the other.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

But how does one do this? There are many ways; a professional therapist for what I call a ‘mental message’ helps, slowing down and focusing on the little things that bring happiness, connecting with nature, or talking to a friend you can trust who may also have some experience in what is happening. Someone who can lend an ear and listen, advise, or just be there for you.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Why does this happen? There are many reasons for that as well, but for me it was a trigger, that caused a memory, that escalated to an ‘episode’ that caused my thinking to go out of whack. I tried to keep going and going, while ignoring the memory, thinking I could outrun it, but the best thing I could have done was to just deal with it. There are exercises to dealing with triggers, and I should have recognized the situation, but in my mind I was too busy for that. However, on a positive note, I did finally recognize what was happening, and I did what I needed to do.

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

What did I do? For starters I used the knowledge I had learned over the past two years and went back to using some of the exercises I had been taught. I also planned to go for a walk around the local golf course, to get out in the fresh air and see the sights from on top of the mountain. The views are tremendous from the highest holes, looking out over the beautiful Bras d’Or Lake. However when I woke up the morning I was going to go for a walk, which happened to be Christmas Eve, there was a 4-5” white blanket of fluffy snow down, that had fallen overnight. How incredible was that? New fallen snow for Christmas Eve. Everything looked like a postcard. And it just seemed so bright and perfect. Instead of walking the golf course, I went for a walk along the road and out to Ballam’s Head, where there are several summer homes, and no person, or creature, had made any tracks on the newly fallen snow.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

While on my Christmas Eve walk, I concentrated on the five senses. I was aware of the salty smell in the air, the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, the patterns the snow made on the branches, the sight of the rose hips against the white background, and taste of the snow on my tongue, as it melted and trickled down my throat. I looked up and saw eagles perched in the trees, as the snow fell coating their feathers. I observed areas where the snow had not yet been disturbed by creatures great and small. I wanted to make a snow angel but I was afraid if I got down, I would not be able to get up. Instead I tramped out a heart in the snow with my boots. I took deep breaths, filling my lungs with cold air. I listened to the eagles calling to one another, and in my mind I imagined them wishing one another a Merry Christmas. I heard squirrels chattering and songbirds singing. I embraced everything I could, on the walk. As much as I dearly wished I was with my brother for the holidays, I was content being home, being as safe as I could be, and realizing how lucky I was to not be alone.

An otter track. It would have been fun to see it sliding through the snow.

The snow looked like cotton balls on the tree.

My path was not all that straight. I was too busy trying to see so much.

I also took the four days I was off from work, from December 23^rd to the 26^th, and did just ‘me’ things. Did I feel guilty? I suppose in some ways, but I knew that I needed to decompress and engage in things that made me happy. I had a few naps and made sure I got enough sleep. Sleep is a must for me. If I get overtired, or if I have a few nights of not sleeping well, I can feel it in my thought patterns. I also spent time knitting, reading, cooking, baking, walking outdoors, biking in the basement, playing tunes on the fiddle and concertina, working on jigsaw puzzles with Mom, and I watched as much sports as I could find over the holidays. I needed to restore and recharge. I just needed to rest.

Going forward I’m going to slow down and smell the coffee, and the flowers too, feel the fibres of wool as I knit, taste test more flavours and be aware of where they take me, listen to the wind, the birds, the wildlife, watch more sunrises and sunsets, look for rainbows, feel the rain on my face, splash in puddles, and listen to my body and mind, and recognize when, and what, I have to do and do it. And no more feeling guilty when I do ‘me’ things.

If anyone is reading this and can relate please know it is okay to not be okay. It is okay to ask for help. It is okay to make ‘me’ time and not feel guilty. You are not alone. Remember to breathe. And if you want to reach out, I’m here to listen.

All photos taken by Hughena MacDougall.

Category: Life (Page 3 of 3)

My Experience With Covid Part 2

ABE’S WAY

Slow Down

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

Archives

Categories

Meta

Subscribe