It’s been a long winter here in the foothills of the mountains. How­ever, since my last column in April, spring has sprung. We can finally enjoy gardening, walking outdoors without winter clothes on, and generally see the season unfold.

This year has been dif­fer­en­t though. The merriness of seeing the flowers and greenery of spring is subdued by the fact of being many weeks into the COVID-19 pandemic. It is a time of un­cer­tainty, worry, and even tragedy for some. It is reassuring to see that the seasons are still progressing as usual, but it is a lonely time in terms of meet­ing people and not being able to go places.

My hus­band and I have each other at home, which is really a blessing, but we miss seeing the rest of the family and friends. We tidy up our house and garden mostly just for ourselves, it seems. We are spending lots of time to­geth­er, and to relax, we are watching movies, seeing con­certs online, and even watching eerie science fiction movies such as "Contagion" and "12 Monkeys," which are about pandemics.

We are both being very careful and observing social-distancing guidelines to stay at least six feet (1.8 meters) away from other people. I am getting pretty good at dodging people when out walking, cross­ing the street, or even parading down the center of the street, in a mannerism of avoidance. To say that this seems coun­ter­in­tu­i­tive to nor­mal social be­havior is pretty obvious!

The only thing making this be­havior seem nor­mal is the fact that right now everyone is doing it. When I see friends from a safe distance, our conversations can be in very loud voices, which is making me quite hoarse. Strangers passing may wave or smile, but not stop to talk. When I back away from someone who is talking to me, it seems awkward, but I can’t afford to let social graces get in the way of safety.

My hus­band now shops for groceries, which we used to do to­geth­er, wearing a mask and taking ad­van­tage of the "seniors hour" early in the morn­ing when the stores open.

Because I am over age 60 and also immune-compromised from re­ceiv­ing myeloma treat­ments, I know that I am at a higher risk of catching COVID-19. I really want to stay healthy and away from that virus, for a number of reasons. One reason is that I would have to self-isolate for two weeks, even if I did not get very sick. Another reason is that I don’t want to be in hos­pi­tal fighting a dreaded invisible enemy that as of yet has no cure and no vaccine against it.

As a result, I am avoiding any ac­­tiv­i­ties that may cause symp­toms that may mimic those of COVID-19 and that could there­fore make me need testing again. These in­clude to not get hoarse from shouting or singing, not get a sore throat from seasonal al­ler­gies at this time of year (pollen can cause al­ler­gies), and not to catch a cold or a mild case of the flu. I am turning into a hypochondriac! I never used to worry much about these problems.

Wearing masks (homemade or surgical) is not mandatory in Canada, so when I wear them has de­pended upon the situation. Sometimes I wear a mask outdoors. On appoint­ments at the cancer center, how­ever, everyone is given a surgical mask to wear on entering the center. We look as if we are on a movie set when walking around there, but it is becoming more nor­mal to me.

Luckily, my cur­rent treat­ment schedule for my mul­ti­ple myeloma only re­quires me to visit the hos­pi­tal once a month and to get blood testing once or twice a month, and they have strict rules in place to limit the spread of the virus so that I feel safe there.

Social media has filled in some of my spare time as we have had to pivot around in our lifestyle to cope with the isolation of being at home now. We spend more time video calling and sending text mes­sages to stay in touch with family and friends. This is the next best thing for seeing people when we cannot meet in person. In addi­tion, I have learned to videoconference for meetings of the var­i­ous groups I’m in­volve­d with, such as my local myeloma sup­port group and needlework guild.

Overall, this spring feels very dif­fer­en­t from pre­vi­ous ones. At the same time, I have much hope that with the sheer amount of scientific re­search focused on COVID-19 that there will be treat­ments found and a vaccine devel­oped. It may take time, but if we can stay calm and safe, we may outlast this epi­demic and be able to get back to a new nor­mal. As a cancer patient, I have had to do this in the past, so I’m op­ti­mis­tic that I can do it again.

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The quotation for this month is a haiku by the Japanese poet Ōme Shūshiki (1669 – 1725): "Dead my old fine hopes, And dry my dreaming but still ... Iris, blue each spring."