Simple Malady

Was reading this poem, as I was recovering from a minor but aggravating ailment recently. My mother is the person we go to when in need for a home remedy. She usually has one or knows someone who can make a recommendation. This time, it turned out not be enough - I had to seek more mainstream help. For a few days, the conversation changed from how they are coping in the pandemic to how I was doing. In a strange way, it brought them some relief in what has got to be a very suffocating time cooped up in their apartment with no end in sight. 

My issues were not serious enough to warrant their worry and yet it was one where some help was needed. So they sprung into action suggesting what they could to me. The conversations turned more normal than they have been in a long time. For many months my calls have laden with anxiety and helplessness knowing they are on their own there, would need to survive this thing and cope with being isolated for an unknown period of time. 

At their age, the passage of time is very sluggish and without something to look forward to except counting days, it could very well feel like waiting for death. There are no magic solutions for the mental health of the elderly in these times but I try to keep signaling signs of life and movement from afar.