COLUMN DEBUTS
Stuck seniors learn to cope
Editor’s note: The Leader-post was set to debut a new column in early April. Written by longtime Regina radio personality Sherv Shragge, the column, After the Ball is Over, will provide a look at how retirees are navigating the waters of their new lives once work becomes a thing of the past. He’ll offer glimpses of the different ways to spend time in retirement, share his thoughts on the common problems faced by many in their golden years and feature stories of remarkable seniors in our community.
But once the COVID-19 pandemic crossed our borders, Sherv also offered a view of something most won’t see in the coming weeks, including, sadly, the families of many living there: the inside of a Regina retirement home.
So here, a little earlier than expected, is the first instalment of After the Ball is Over.
Like creaky old caterpillars we have crawled into a cocoon to await the metamorphosis. We are locked down, locked in and trying to navigate the rules of isolation in a pandemic.
The phrase, non-essential, comes up frequently: No non-essential exits, no non-essential egress, no non-essential visitors or deliveries. This is life in a retirement home. It is the Covid Cocoon.
For many who don’t get out much in the winter, it doesn’t matter. For others it is claustrophobic. For those who rely on weekly visits from family, it is a jail cell. For those who yearn for sunshine and physical activity — no matter the weather — it means only vitamin D and walking the halls.
For staff, it is the daily protocol of screening for fever, checking for the sniffles and hand sanitizing. For the beauty salon, it means a drop of business when half of her clients are outside and can’t come in. Neither can the entertainers. It is the new normal.
There are other retirement homes that have gone much further: Meals delivered to your suite rather than trying to obey the social distance rule. Sitting at the usual table for four, it is impossible to maintain the recommended two-metre rule.
There are penalties. If you go out for one of those non-essential journeys, that means two weeks of isolation in your suite when you return.
Of course this is all for our own good, they tell us. After all, we are the most vulnerable in our 80s and 90s, most with underlying conditions that this virus can attack. It is a balancing act: Endurance vs. time.
There are frustrations. When a cousin from Calgary came to visit a resident, he was not allowed entry. There is the lighthearted approach, “I told my friends and family to come below the balcony and I’ll step out and wave!” says another resident. Most inmates
... er, uh ... residents have had similar fits of pique. Others roll with the punches, “It’s for our own good, I suppose,” most say.
These are extreme measures but there is a sense of solidarity. We are all in this together. Now, where have I hear de that refrain before?
“Wherever we go, whatever we do,
we’re gonna go through it together.
We may not go far, but sure as a star, wherever we are, it’s together. Wherever I go I know he goes. Wherever I go I know she goes. No fits, no fights, no feuds and no egos, Amigos, together!
Through thick and through thin, all out or all in.
And whether it’s win, place or show.
With you for me and me for you,
we’ll muddle through whatever we do ... together!”
The song is from the Broadway musical Gypsy, and although written in a different context, it certainly applies in this crisis.
When we emerge from this cocoon we may not be the bright-coloured butterfly you expect.
We in retirement homes are likely to be more pale and a little bedraggled. But we’ll get through this ... together.
After the Ball is Over will normally appear the first and third Thursdays of the month. Email Sherv at aftertheball2020@gmail.com.