Quarantine: Days 3 & 4
After the nurse glued my head back together, she told me not to put any pressure on the wound. Not to sleep on it. Which was difficult, because it was on the back of my head.
Undaunted, and exhausted, I went to bed and fell asleep. Until — bang — 4 am. And I was jetlag wide awake. Not wanting to wake the Husband (Scotty) I started trawling social media until I found a happy family in quarantine with a profligate amount of sky in their generously proportioned picture window. Vast, blue, endless, sublime, breeze-filled Australian light.
I promptly burst into tears. Six months of packing and unpacking, shifting rules and regulations, stress and relief — it all came out my nose in a gush of self-pity.
“What’s wrong, love?” Asked Scotty in his sleep.
“I miss nightingales. And daylight.”
“Ah well,” he said pragmatically, “You got a window that opens. And air.”
The reference to nightingales had been the last time I’d woken in the middle of the night. We were staying with friends in France, and Pam, our elderly Spoodle, had woken me with a look that can only be described as ‘glee’ on her face. “You hearing this shit?” she asked, with articulate doggy longing. When I didn’t respond she woke my husband as well. “Scotty,” she said nudging him with her nose. “You gotta hear this.” She then sat between us, and for about 20 minutes we listened to the most extraordinary chorus of fine pinging bells. Nightingales. Every bit as beautiful as ye olde poets described — and nothing like the whining air-conditioning of our quarantine hotel room.
It’s been a very long way home, and nothing seems like it should be.
I decided to stay in bed all day. The food arrived regularly, and by stealth. A rustle of paper. A knock at the door. A face mask. A lone policeman waving his socially distant mobile phone in greeting.
Then the Tennis Players arrived in a flurry of indignation — and everyone had something to do for the rest of the day. Comment. Comment. Comment.
We got an email from the PEQ (the pet quarantine where Pam is currently holidaying) to tell us she wasn’t eating —if she didn’t do so in the next day they’d have to call the vet. So we dialled up Uber Eats and sent her a chicken.
Scott added a note, saying that Pam sometimes stops eating when I’m away. That he puts her food out, then pretends to eat his own dinner with her. He said that weird pantomime actually worked, and if they had the time or inclination, they might like to try it.
I couldn’t imagine the hard pressed workers in quarantine having time to indulge such antics, and thought it was sweet and a bit nuts of him to even suggest it, but maybe he’s onto something, because Scotty got onto Woolies and effectively did the same for me:
Which cheered me up no end.
Oh! Looky. A prized window that opens. Some people pay thousands for that — if you’re to believe Sky News.
The next morning we got the best note from the PEQ: “I collected the roast chicken for Pam yesterday and cut up a bowl for her. At first she was not interested, so I sat in her pen with her and pretended to eat the chicken. She then wanted some and I was able to hand feed her for a short time. Then she was more than happy to eat from the bowl. She ate all of it overnight. I have informed our officers too sit with Pam when she has her meals and if she doesn’t eat, pretend to eat in front of her. She is quite a clever soul.”
As the vet in France commented on her antics while giving her an injection: “Quel cinéma!”
As a side note — I love the slight madness of everyone “Pretending to eat. Pretending to eat the chicken” “I’ll just pretend to eat this beef Wellington” … “ I’ll just pretend to eat this caviar” … And then “I’ll just pretend to be skinny.”
Day 3 is nose swab day, and you know what that means. Visitors!
I leapt out of bed and into something suitable. It was no small deal. I washed (with soap) put on make up. Brushed the glue out of my hair (which made it spring up in the dry Melbourne air) and dusted off a little something I have for emergencies.
I was so excited I forgot to take pictures of the process — but I did post the one above to the Quarantine Group on Facebook. Some others decided to play along:
(This outfit’s made out of the paper bags they deliver meals in.)
When the big moment arrived, a random dude wearing blue pants and Bluntstones stuck a Q-tip up my nose. I was so surprise I forgot to take a photo. His reaction was excellent, but. First to the dress — then to the fact that we’d rearranged all the furniture. I swear I could see him trying to work out if we’d broken any rules.
Anyway — apart from the fact that I spent WAY too much time on social media — it was a good day. Now to get plenty of rest because tomorrow’s ‘Chicken Wednesday’ — a long held tradition between Pam and me. We used to go to the farmers’ markets to pick up a chook. Then we’d go home and make soup stock and share the spoils far away from prying vegetarian eyes. Tomorrow’s big adventure — I’m ringing Uber Eats again — and sharing Chicken Wednesday with my girlfriend in the PEQ
xx
PS: There’s a policewoman called Kelly outside my door. I know her name is Kelly, because she’s talking that loudly on her mobile phone. If you read about me in the papers tomorrow, you’ll know what happened.
