A Good Day For Planting

 Lizzie's funeral was an early one, 10am in Ballyclare. Due to the pandemic restrictions, only a handful of people were able to attend. Lizzie was a well-liked woman, and even though many of her friends and relatives had died before her if these were normal times the church would have been full. In normal times the service would have been in church. In normal times there would have been a queue of people waiting to give the coffin a lift, but today that job was left to four men, three in their seventies and one (Bert) a mere lad in his early sixties. That is what happens when a person gets to be ninety, a person without issue and all that is left is a solitary nephew and a handful of cousins.

Last Monday, Zoe offered to come out today to help Bert plant the bundle of native trees bought to replace the larches that had succumbed to ramorum disease. It was a great day for it, mild and dry and the ground still soft enough to make planting easy. We planted around 150 bare root saplings and a few in pots. While we were planting them Zoe suggested we call the stand of new trees Lizzie's Wood. So we will. Lizzie would have been tickled pink to hear that. In years to come, we might walk through the new planting and listen to the birds singing in the branches and remember Lizzie and how much she loved the 'wee birds'. I will remember too how much she disliked the bigger birds, the jackdaws, crows and jays and most villainous of all, in her book, the sparrowhawk.

Off to the wood, Martha at the wheel.

Bert and Zoe handled the spades.

And, for the day that's in it...

From the days before tractors - a very young Lizzie with her father's farm horse. Used for ploughing and other jobs, he was also a much-loved family friend.

The Last Aunt

 

Lizzie 1930-2021

So that's it. Bert's last Aunt has gone and now he's the only only one still standing from that branch of the family tree. An era ended. No-one comes after him.

Lizzie loved dogs and dogs loved her. It was when she asked Bert a few months ago not to bring our two when he visited that he knew things weren't right with her. She had an underlying condition, and who hasn't at 90? But it was Covid-19 took her in the end.

In Case You Were Wondering

 

Bert's Aunt is holding her own. The news comes third hand as no-one is allowed to visit. What happens next is out of our hands. 

I panicked and ordered Covid testing kits for Bert and me. We both tested negative.

Booking for the vaccination opened today for people in my age group. I secured an appointment for Sunday. The second jab is to be in April. After which I might be able to visit my darlings in Norfolk. Maybe. Fingers crossed.

The snowdrops are out and I am hopeful for longer days and milder weather.

Lizzie and me at Craig's Moss. I'm probably half the age I am today and Lizzie would be in her early sixties. We're all ready for a day of bagging turf. 

Bert Steps Up

 

This week was eventful in a lockdown sort of way.

Monday. Quiet for Nellybert but Chez Liz heavy things went down. Bert’s Aunt was in extremely angry mode and made a lot of people cry. With hindsight, one wonders if rage is a symptom of corona virus.

Tuesday. Still Nellybert’s Day Off. Aunt pressed the panic button that summoned Favourite Cousin because she wanted to get up two hours earlier than usual and her fire needed sparked.

Wednesday. The early morning carer couldn’t access Aunt’s abode and Bert had to rush up there to see what gave. He expected the worst but it turned out the door was simply stuck and the carer, new to the case, couldn’t figure out how to deal with the rustic half-door. He hung out until Favourite Cousin and Favourite Niece arrived to pack Lizzie’s case for her two-week all-expenses-paid respite to a very nice little place in Antrim.

Wednesday Evening. Favourite Niece returned Chez Liz as she was feeling poorly and was scared. FN settled her, made her as comfortable as possible and went home.

Thursday. The news came through that the Covid-19 test that Aunt had been given as a condition of her admission to the very nice place in Antrim had come back positive and respite was cancelled. Favourite Niece and Cousin had to take a big step back as both are vulnerable. Bert steps up. He is now her sole family support and spends most of the day with her in two sessions. She is very unwell and continues to deteriorate.

Friday. Bert spends entire day with his Aunt with short return home for lunch. Community Nursing Team, GP and Social Worker pull out all stops to get Lizzie admitted to hospital care. The Social Worker clears her desk and sits vigil with Bert until paramedics arrive. By this stage Lizzie is so unwell that the paramedics are not sure she will survive the trip to hospital. Administering oxygen revives her a little and the decision to remove her is taken.

Friday Evening. Bert returns home, very shaken by what has taken place and in absolute awe of the dedication of the nurses, GP, paramedics, social worker and the care team. He is also really spooked that he was in such close contact with a live coronavirus case. He’s still worried.

Saturday. Little news about Bert’s Aunt. She is ‘settled’. The truth is, hospital staff have barely time to communicate with relatives. And we cannot visit. These are strange and awful times. Favorite Niece and Cousin and Bert were all contacted by Track and Trace. All advised to self-isolate for ten days. When Bert explained that he was the only person who could help Lizzie he was told he could do so but he was to go nowhere else. I am allowed to go to shops as it was nearly a week since I’d been with Lizzie. That’s what Track and Trace said but daughter Hannah said I’m not allowed to go to shops at all.

An amusing aside. Bert was very particular about PPE, His consisted of disposable gloves, a mask, a heavy cotton boiler suit, woolly hat and fleece. After each return from Aunt’s house the boiler suit, fleece and hat were divested for laundering. I’ve never washed so many boiler suits in my life. And was glad to.

New Year's Day

Martha asked me recently how long I might live. I answered, 

I'm planning to live until I'm 88 years old. I might live longer or I might die before that, but - that's the plan anyway. You'll be in your early thirties by then, you'll be a proper grown-up, on your way.

I think she liked that answer, Being thirty-three must seem like a lifetime away to her. When I was her age I thought my life would be hardly worth living at thirty. I expected to be married to some elderly boring professor who I wouldn't even particularly like and that I'd have about four not very interesting children, likely all boys. Obvious that I believed Jo March's fate to be a big disappointment.

Bert's Aunt Lizzie has gone two years over my ideal lifespan. I spent most of yesterday with her and she is not in good form. She won't eat, hardly drinks, cannot sleep and is in constant pain. She waited three months for a hospital appointment and has finally been given one for this day week. In ordinary times she would already be in the hospital if only to be rehydrated. This pandemic is dreadful for the ordinary sick and elderly whose care needs are not being met. One of Lizzie's carers told me that on a recent house visit she came upon an elderly man who had fallen and could not get up. Normally carers would be expected to call an ambulance and wait until it arrived. Two hours later, no ambulance had arrived so she sought the help of a neighbour who helped her get the old chap on his feet. He then declared that he would not go to hospital and the ambulance was cancelled. Incidentally, this carer waited on her own time and will never be paid for it. And didn't even resent it. A true Hero.

Lizzie in better days