The wind is howling and the snow is descending in gusts and blowing from the rooftops. Perhaps this wild April inclemency has been sent not from cruelty but rather from compassion, to divert us, to ensure a topic for conversation, to make us happy to huddle together in the warmth of our homes.
The grim modelling released earlier in the month was replaced on Monday by new data indicating that Ontario has appeared to have peaked ahead of the forecasts. The earlier projections had called for 1,600 deaths by April 30, and 80,000 cases. On Monday, there were 11,184 confirmed cases, 802 people in hospital and 584 reported deaths. Hospital resources have not been overwhelmed. People without COVID-19 related symptoms have even been urged by the hospitals to “visit us”, and not stay at home until they are desperately ill.
Nonetheless, we older souls must heed the advice of the Ontario Premier: “Until a vaccine is found, the best way to protect those over the age of 70 and those with complex medical conditions is to ask them to self-isolate at home.” And that will be for some time as experts constantly reiterate.
Our old age home
We remind ourselves daily how fortunate we are to have our lovely spacious home in which to self-isolate. When we returned to Canada in 2010, we were both very unhappy about leaving Paris and found it very difficult to appreciate either Ottawa or the house we had kept for our almost 20 year absence. We needed a new adventure. When the house across the street came up for sale we launched ourselves – me with a little trepidation, Drew with none – into a project that would consume us for three years, to create a house that would allow us to age in place.
The renovation saga that followed is banal: the foundation was rotten, there was fire damage on the first floor ceiling that compromised the entire four-floor staircase, there was asbestos in the attic along with some water damage, and on and on, mostly unidentified in the inspection. We engaged an excellent architect, and I researched universal design to make sure we chose items like door handles that are easy for arthritic hands, a shower accessible to a wheel chair. But we failed in our choice of a contractor who bolted for Portugal before the work was fully completed, another banal renovation experience. Our neighbour and former friend sued us to keep land he had encroached upon. We won the legal battle, but it was extremely unpleasant and detracted for some time from the pleasure of being in our new home.
We had very few bits of furniture from our years of living in tiny Paris apartments when we moved in. Furnishing the house to overcome the extreme minimalist effect took us some time, and all the while the architect who wanted to put his work in the annual Ottawa award ceremony was nipping at our heels. When he finally decided that our furnishing efforts would not disgrace his design and that he could Photoshop the limited landscaping efforts, he submitted his work on “A Piece of Paris” (his submission photo above). To our amazement he won the awards for both best renovation and best kitchen and one of the little plexiglass awards now sits in a bookcase along with a couple of folded up newspaper articles.
It has been only recently that we have felt truly happy and pleasantly comfortable in our old-age-home-to-be, having found our own favourite places in it and having space for our family when they come to stay. Our enforced isolation, which is unlikely to end for some time yet, has proved a very good test of the design. We could not have known how soon we would need it.