Work has decided to keep going, albeit the cut-down of shifts amongst the nursing staff. We have reduced the number of patients we have per day to spread them out across the week. Which means that our theatre lists are shorter. Which means having 3 nurses instead of 4 per shift. Which means we have all been allocated more days off to accommodate for these changes.

Better than being asked not to work at all, I reckon. I mean, we all have bills to pay. And being in the healthcare industry and being directly involved in patient care, working from home is not exactly an option. In a sense, because we mainly deal with elective procedures, we have instituted preventive protocols to screen our patients.

When the coronavirus first broke out, Pre-admission staff asked patients about recent travel history to mainland China. Since last week, we now check patients’ temperatures prior to their procedures. Sure, our screening may not exactly be fool-proof, all things considered, but we’re doing the best we can on top of chafing our hands dry from overzealous hand hygiene.

Same with every country, I suppose.

Australia hasn’t gone into lockdown but social isolation is being practiced by many. Yesterday, I stayed at home all day with Jeff and Raven and pretty much ate all the snacks I bought the day before I felt sorry for my poor pancreas.

Jeff made me watch John Wick 3 on Netflix. It was actually a pretty good movie. I mean, everyone was just trying to kill each other off but true to Hollywood style, John Wick miraculously lived through his physical exhaustion and bloody injuries to star again on John Wick 4. Of course.

In this age and time, I reckon social distancing can’t be that bad. It’s the perfect opportunity to bond with family members and, I don’t know, do stuff together within the vicinity of your domicile without killing each other — or yourself, out of boredom — I suppose.

Last Monday, coming off early from work, I thought I’d do a bit of yoga in the backyard. Not yoga, per se. More like some slow desperate stretching to alleviate the pain on my lower back that’s been bugging me on and off for years now since I accepted the premise that I’m getting old.

But nope, never happened. Not when the Baby Cat kept sitting on my back or hugging me from behind, interrupting my exercise with her irresistible charm and hyperactivity.

Meanwhile, Jeff was busy playing with his camera. Thus, the photos.

Speaking of cats, Raven and Jeff’s adopted cat graced us with his presence that day. Heck, he pretty much lives in our backyard already, confidently walking towards me when I’m out feeding Popit like he knows his privilege or something. So I started feeding him too.

He looks so much like our other missing cat, Stud. Raven nicknamed him Stud-Stud Number Two.

Oh, and we picked one of the apples on Raven’s apple tree. I don’t know what kind it is but it’s a columnar one. Tasted like Granny Smith apple with its tartness. I’m not a fan of Granny Smith. I only bought the tree so that the bees would have something to cross-pollinate with my Pink Lady apple tree standing next to it.

My fig tree’s doing awesome, as well. I’m starting to think I might have a shot at being an okay gardener.

*Raven at 3 years old