It seems as though we're on a revolving roller-coaster. Every time we think we're finally making some headway against this horrible virus, we're taken back to square one again because the wily predator is skilled at overcoming resistance to its all-consuming mission in life. A tiny living thing that cannot be seen by the naked eye is powerful enough in its malevolent mission to handily overcome the best-laid plans of medical scientists devising ever-new (and retreaded) means of guiding humanity out of its evil clutches.

We're back to beginnings again. Not quite in lockdown, but possibly leading there. Schools are not to be re-opened until possibly January 17. No more indoor dining at restaurants. My heart goes out to parents living through this nightmare with concerns about their children's welfare, their adjustment to this new reality that refuses to be as temporary as we would like it to be.

Gyms are temporarily off limits so socializing in those venues has been cut to the quick. Small businesses once again face the option of sticking it out, hoping for better days and relaxation of measures to combat the spread of this malicious virus accordingly. People once again facing a reduction in their working hours and consequently, their take-home pay. 

 

There may be more restrictions to come; the premier of the province warns of a 'tsunami' of Omicron. Well, of course, this is no local collapse of orderly, predictable life; it's worldwide. To think that it was just a month ago that Omicron was first detected as a variant in South Africa when the alert to its presence was raised. Just one month for a mutated virus to circulate globally. Shockingly awe-inspiring.

 

Ottawa Public Health has reported 24 COVID outbreaks at long-term care and retirement homes, leading the province to approve fourth doses for those vulnerable people inhabiting long-term care and retirement homes. Many of whom have not yet received that third, 'booster' dose. Hospitals cannot fill all their nursing shifts. There is a dire shortage of front-line staff members to help in the management of the increasing patient caseload. Staff burnout and a perhaps predictable stream of retirements add to the shortage of hospital personnel at a time when once again non-emergency surgeries are being cancelled to free up beds for COVID-19 sufferers.

 

Walking up the street this afternoon on our way to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie, there was no one about. It's a quiet street at any time, but quieter now. We were somewhat surprised yesterday morning when we drove out to do our food shopping, when we noticed that traffic was unusually light. It reminded us of the solemn, fearful quiescence at the time of the first COVID wave, when no one knew quite what to expect.

 

While medical science has a better grip on the virus, and we now have vaccines and some credible treatments for COVID, we still don't quite know what to expect. Irving alerted me to the fact that a vehicle was approaching behind us and I drew Jackie closer on his leash as we continued walking up the street. I heard behind me the vehicle stop and a voice calling out Irving's name.

 

 

A neighbour who lives on the street behind ours, wanting to know how we are. Are we heading to the ravine? The word is that it's very icy in there and people have stopped going in for a natural tour of winter. Well, of course it's icy on the trails, it's why we never take cleats off our boots. And the footing is good, with those cleats. People are fearful of venturing too far from home, of exposing themselves, of tempting fate.