A letter to Tokyo, from one of your adopted children
Dear Tokyo,
You have provided me with pictures and stories and a backdrop for the last three years.
You taught me how to sip pink champagne under the cherry blossoms and to totally celebrate the change of seasons.
You have my praise for your fantastic schools, the ease in which we all got to know you and my truest respect for your medical system, which saved my life when your doctors performed Japan’s 11th prototype carotid artery surgery on me.
But that’s not the point of my letter.
As any friend would do, I also want to share with you, that what you are doing confuses me.
Here’s the thing, I know what it is like to have symptoms and not know what to do with them.
Last year, for instance, I was complaining about incessant neck pain. For months. Yet, I didn’t do so much about it.
For days before my stroke, I showed telltale symptoms of what eventually became my reality.
So, I am not really one to talk.
Or maybe I am?
When you closed the schools on 2 March, I still didn’t realise the scope of this virus. If I’m completely honest with you, I made fun of you behind your back.
Hell, I planned my ‘escape’... to Switzerland.
I thought that we would be better off in Klosters for those few weeks. It seemed like a perfect plan. There, the kids could enjoy skiing each morning, I could get on with my therapies and we would meet in the afternoon for a bit of homeschooling.
Perfect!
Tokyo, if you will humour me, I would like to share my thoughts on the past few weeks (which were some of the most hellish weeks I ever spent in my life).
Will you forgive me if I seem too panickey or over the top?
Here it goes…
On 4 March I learned the term social distancing
The first thing that struck me when we landed in Switzerland was that my in-laws, who are generally not afraid to hug and kiss us daily, let alone when they haven’t seen us for an extended period of time, were afraid to greet us properly. They offered no kiss!
(Full disclosure, I questioned them, as well. What were they thinking?)
When we left you, Tokyo, it was business as normal. However, back in our own country, people were practicing something called social distancing.
Even people who love us and know that we didn’t have the virus.
But, did they?
On 13 March in Switzerland all ski resorts were closed as a measure to ban public or private gatherings with over 100 persons
Oh no!
As you can imagine, Tokyo, that seriously dampened my steller plan. It also began the wheels turning in my mind.
First, I heard that the ban was a thousand people, now only 100?
I have to admit that it started me thinking about your subway cars on their morning commute, squished with bodies. They are just heaving with people.
Hmmmm...
On 14 March Switzerland announced that the schools were closing and limiting access to restaurants, bars and discos to a maximum of 50 people
That was where I finally caught on to where this all was going. It is a global pandemic.
17 March Switzerland announced its nationwide lockdown
As of the stroke of midnight, we weren’t allowed to leave our house, only to grab groceries or for exercise.
The supermarket was giving out numbers upon entering, as they couldn't have more than 100 shoppers at a time.
They limited shoppers to buy only what they need (think toilet paper). They also had a system whereby they stocked fresh goods all day long.
From one day to the next, all bars, restaurants and shops closed. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a mandate.
Only Swiss citizens and permit holders, as well as those who could prove they were travelling for business were allowed entry.
To add to the gravity, the government deployed eight thousand troops of the Swiss Army (the largest since WW2) to uphold this ban.
There I sat, with my three kids, a thousand kilometers from you and from my husband. My head began to spin.
Can you understand my fears? I’m afraid. Afraid that you are not taking this seriously.
Am I over-reacting?
On 19 March, Japan announced that all people arriving from Europe, Egypt and Iran to self-quarantine and Swiss Air announced the cancellation of its flights to Narita as of 23 March
This caused me to seriously spiral. I was a wreck. Did I want to go home, to you, where it seems as if life and your people are not affected?
With trepidation I rebooked our tickets for 21 March.
We are now self-quarantining at home.
I am scared to death of what lays on the other end of this 2 week period.
Now, we have no choice but to stay inside.
From 6 April, presumably, our children will return to school. We will gather in parks, cafes, museums, shops. Eat in restaurants. Walk in Shibuya...
I was talking to a friend yesterday, and she told me, that each morning she has to readjust. Were they all safe? Did she get a call in the night that delivered bad news?
She continued on to say that her friends, back home, were chastising her for her behaviours.
It’s complicated! We can do so many things they cannot! But should we?
This new normal is not in any way normal.
I said in the beginning of my letter, dear Tokyo, that these past few weeks have taken its toll on me. And they have. From dealing with an ever-changing global situation, to managing the emotions and fears of my children, to problem solving with my decreased faculties, to personal loss.
Making that decision to fly with my kids to Zürich and going thru everything that life threw my way, made me feel really good. It was almost like the old Stacie, sharp and up for anything.
However, there are some advantages of the new Stacie 2.0. For instance, this ‘ole girl won’t waste any time complaining about neck pain anymore. I will drag myself to the nearest neurologist the very second that it becomes anything more than a tickle.
While the numbers of new COVID19 patients are drastically increasing I look to you, my friend, to show me that you are compassionate and will do your best to stop this.
This weekend blooming sakura, in all their glory, will have no one to spread a picnic underneath. Not a soul to sip pink champagne below. It is my hope.
Your friend,
Stacie
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