[TIMELINE: FEBRUARY–APRIL 2020]
The previous couple of months had brought much discussion about Covid to our family. But at the time, we still didn’t know a lot about it. Did it involve a lab leak in China, or a wet market? Was it something we had to really worry about, or plan around? It wasn’t clear how this would affect us globally and also locally. Would it impact the potential sale of our parents’ house in Hollister?
I don’t think we really believed that there were going to be worldwide Covid lockdowns or anything, but we hedged our bets. Right after the holidays, we began working like crazy. By the start of February, we had made great progress in prepping our parents’ house for sale.
We had already given away a lot of our parents’ stuff. We found homes for some of it with family and with friends, and we donated various items to charities like Goodwill and Habitat for Humanity. Our real estate agent was great, and suggested some small-but-smart renovations for us to complete, too. We ditched the 1970s carpets (what a good call!), installed some new flooring in the kitchen and bathroom areas, and updated a few of the fixtures.
My brother Les and I were onboard with all of these changes, but Peggy? Not so much. Of course my sister wanted to keep our parents’ house as it was, and also in the family. But we didn’t really have a detailed conversation about it. Instead, her stress about it was displaced into constant worrying about what would happen to her cats once she eventually needed memory care. I assured her that she was a long, long way away from that. And I was being truthful when I told her that—or so I thought at the time. (Later, I would be genuinely shocked to learn that she would require memory care less than two years later. In fact, I’m still shocked.)
Throughout February, we had house inspections, and we arranged a U-Haul to take away the items we all decided to keep. There was still a lot of family stuff to sort through, and we knew we couldn’t get it all done in a month, so we stashed it in a storage space in town. (Little did we know then that we wouldn’t clear out that space for at least a couple more years!)
Les, of course, was his same difficult self. Here we were trying to get the house ready for sale, and he refused to communicate with me. I was fed up. I even thought about telling him that if he didn’t shape up, I was going to walk away from the whole situation and he could take care of Peggy by himself. Of course I would never have done that, but my stress level was high and I wanted him to be a team player. Thankfully my therapist had the better idea; since I wasn’t prepared to follow through on my threat, she suggested I hold back on even uttering it to Les.
At least Peggy’s life in assisted living had settled into a nice routine for her. She had one regular table mate, an elderly woman with few family members, who we befriended. She liked both Peggy and me and, since I stayed over so often, she also got to know me a bit better. “Call me anytime you want,” she said—and I really did! It worked out well for all of us.
I’d phone her often and check in on her, and after we chatted for a bit she’d give me all the latest details on Peggy. Her last dispatch to me before Covid hit: “Peggy is washing her hair regularly, and putting her clothes on backwards at least once a week.”
Also during this time, Peggy developed a crush on one of the residents who lived right across the hall from her. He was super nice, very helpful. I was never quite sure of his condition, but I think he had a head injury that was serious enough that it prevented him from living on his own. Even so, he seemed pretty together. When I was in town, the three of us would go for walks in the park adjacent to the facility. Peggy would always remind us that the park was one of hers.
Then we hit Covid lockdowns in mid-March, and life as we all knew it came to a grinding halt.
Too bad for my partner Jon and I, because we had planned some events in March in California that were supposed to be a little reward after all our hard work on the house. We had gotten tickets to the Death Guild 27th Anniversary celebration at DNA Lounge in San Francisco, which held special significance for us. We also planned to spend a couple of days in Geyserville in Sonoma County to go wine tasting at a few beautiful wineries. That would have been a treat!
Unfortunately, DNA canceled the party the week before, ahead of shelter-in-place orders—the first in the country—that local officials were about to enact. So we skipped the wineries tour and went straight home instead. We wanted to be safely back in Washington before any official shelter orders began. In just another week, nightlife (and a lot more) in San Fransisco and 5 adjacent counties would be under mandatory lockdown for the next two months.
Why we ever thought it would be a good idea to go to a nightclub or go wine tasting at the time is beyond me now, but I guess it’s because we truly didn’t realize the danger then. We had no idea of the scope of Covid-19 and the global pandemic it would become.
Much of the rest of the world also locked down tight due to Covid. By the end of March, shelter orders were becoming the norm in most of the country, with only “essential businesses” allowed to be open and strict rules in place against visitors in healthcare settings. I’m not the most extroverted person you’ll ever meet, so staying home wasn’t horrible for me personally—but it did mean I couldn’t see Peggy in person, and I knew that I’d never get that time back. I made sure to call her every day. I also downplayed Covid to her when we spoke because I didn’t want her to worry. (Did I mention that we come from a family of worriers?)
My sister’s facility locked down especially hard. Thankfully, she was aware of the reasoning for it, that there was a global health situation and we all needed to stay home. So she was good with it. Speaking to her so often on the phone really helped a lot, as did the occasional FaceTime chat via iPad, which facility staff helped make happen for us from time to time.
By April, I had settled into a somewhat smooth stay-at-home routine. Death Guild started hosting webcasts on Monday nights with only one DJ alone at the venue, so we could still enjoy the music from our beloved club. I started working out with my trainer via FaceTime on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and that went remarkably well. I also set up my own online streaming DJ session on Thursdays. And on Fridays, our favorite winery (Mercury) hosted a happy hour on Youtube. Peggy, Jon, and I always loved going to tastings there in person, and now Jon and I still do.
I put something on my calendar every weekday that spring and, for the most part, it worked for months to keep me in a good headspace—no “blursdays” for me! But it was a strange time.