We reinvent, learn new skills, get to know old ones

LONDON: The last few days had been wet and gloomy, ending a brief interlude of glorious sunshine that had given so much hope that the sun would kill the deadly virus and thus offer a glimmer of hope for a relaxation of the lockdown.

So, it was not to be, but just as we were tinkering about in the kitchen preparing for iftar, we sighted a beautiful double rainbow from our kitchen window.

It caused a lot of excitement as this was the hour people were getting ready to clap for carers and the National Health Service staff who are tirelessly working to save lives.

It was thus not lost on people the fact that the rainbow, the unofficial symbol for the NHS during this pandemic; a symbol of thanks, hope, and solidarity for and with the NHS, as if Mother Nature is joining in to lend her support, no matter how brief.

As we plod on after more than a month of the enforced lockdown and just getting to grips with the new normal that come with it, there’s a sense of resignation that this period of doom and gloom will continue. Most times, it is an emotional rollercoaster ride.

So people raise questions about the need to do the weekly claps for the healthcare workers when all they actually need is proper personal protective equipment. Doesn’t it sound hollow that the number of NHS workers, who had fallen victims to the very virus that they are fighting, is alarmingly high?

Among those in the NHS who succumbed to Covid-19 is Dr Vishna Rasiah, a consultant neonatologist with the Birmingham Women’s and Children’s Hospital, a Malaysian specialist, much respected in his profession. Just this minute I received news that a Malaysian-born nurse, Felix Khor, is fighting for his life, supported by the ventilator for already a month.

Khor came out of retirement and was infected a month ago. Then came a more positive news that Dr Tun Muzamal Wildan, a maxillofacial surgeon who contracted the disease from his patient, is now sitting up and videocalling his children!

While we pray in gratitude that a friend is recovering, came a piece of devastating news that another friend had contracted the disease. Everyone’s life is touched by this sudden health disaster.

Mass burial during peacetime is the new normal and this, if I have to admit is bringing me down. I read about victims of Covid-19 drawing their last breath with no loved ones to hold their hands, and only a selected few to attend the burial.

To survive in this bleak period of uncertainty, we reinvent, we learn new skills, and get reacquainted with old ones. I am relearning the art of sewing, something I have not done for the past 50 years. I am sewing headbands and masks for healthcare and community workers or for anyone who needs them.

I find that grappling with the tension of the upper thread and the lower thread somehow eases my personal growing tension; of not being able to see my children,

of worrying about my daughter, who will be delivering her first baby anytime soon, and about the future. If I can be allowed to be morbid, it is the worry of being taken away by men in hazmat suits.

Certain things do cheer you up. British Health Secretary Matt Hancock recently announced that cancer care services would begin to be restored. This is good news for a close friend, who had her breast cancer treatment postponed to make way for the pandemic cases.

Another friend has been approved for testing before going back to work as she is now considered a key worker.

I so want to desperately believe that the appearance of the rainbow at that very important moment must mean something positive. It must, for our sanity.