My lockdown started early. If you remember, Boris Johnson closed theatres the week before national lockdown. The decision cut short our tour of Dead Good: the production, with two years’ research behind it, explored life-limiting illness and how to live life as fully as possible until the final breath. But as the media messages flooded the news that Covid-19 meant people were often without their nearest and dearest when they died, because families couldn't be allowed in, the world felt extraordinarily cruel. Our production felt out of sync with the new times.
I was very emotional right at the beginning. The thing that kept me most sane during our one hour’s exercise was walking the dog around the block to my friend's house just to see their faces from a distance, and chat through the window for 5 minutes. And on the way, we always passed my local care home. This is what happened....
Day 1
From this first day, I spotted a lady sitting alone in her care home room, watching the TV. I waved, she didn't notice me, I waved with more enthusiasm, moving to find the best position to catch her eye. My kids were embarrassed by me, and walked on. And then she spotted me. She clearly didn't recognise me...well, we'd never met! But she tentatively waved back.
Day 2
Off we went again to our friends... I walked passed the care home. This time the lady in the chair spotted me immediately and it was as if she knew the drill. She waved back straight away. We waved hello, then waved goodbye.
Day 3
She knew me straight away. She tried desperately hard to get up, which made me panic. I need not have worried, she reached for her frame and came closer to the window. I picked up my dog, Norah. We waved, Norah waved.
Day 4
She couldn't see me, I hollered,
"Yoo-Hoo, Yoo-Hoo"
A carer came to an upstairs window. I worried I was in trouble. I need not have worried.
"Do you know Hazel?" she asked.
"Not exactly, but we're making friends, she likes my dog. I'm glad to have learnt her name. Is she ok on her feet, I'm worried she might fall over getting up to the window?"
"No, Hazel's good on her feet, she's really independent."
Day 5
Hazel spotted me immediately. She jumped up to wave. I was with my son (handsome young man) - she liked it when he waved...my boy seemed to like it too.
Day 6
Hazel is thrilled to see me. I blow a kiss. She blows a kiss back. My heart sings.
Day 7
Today I'm walking with my whole family. They all wave. Hazel looks interested, perhaps a little confused, but happy for the attention. I pick up Norah...she's always please to see Norah. Norah waves. Hazel laughs. We all laugh.
Day 8
Hazel has a carer in her room. The carer doesn't recognise me as family. I feel like a mad woman trying to explain, shouting through double glazing, with a tiny window open, that "I'm a new friend." Hazel looks confused and believes the carer who's asking, "Who are you, I don't recognise you." I walk on, feeling like an intruder.
Day 9
Hazel is asleep in her chair. My kids say not to wake her. I disagree and try to. I fail.
Day 10
I drop a card off to Hazel "Hello Hazel, I'm the lady who comes to wave. I'm called Rachael. And my dog's name is Norah." I ask my daughter to draw the dog in the corner- she does a better job than I could.
Day 11
No sign of Hazel. No sign of the card. Her chair is empty.
Day 12
It's a grey wet day. I'm having a bad one. My husband says, "Tea will be ready in 10 minutes. Go and walk the dog; go and see Hazel." I go. As usual, Hazel is sitting alone, TV on, she looks kind-of grey too. But then she spots me, and the grey fades away in a huge wave. I hold my hand out to show it's raining. Hazel nods. Norah's getting wet, she hates the rain. I don't care, I walk home smiling.
Day 13
Hazel can't hear me, she can't see me. She's rubbing her head. I really holler. I get a response from a man upstairs. "Hello?" "Hello!" "What's your face like?" "Lovely, really very lovely," I respond laughing at myself. Hazel still doesn't see me.
Day 14
Hazel's had her hair done. She looks like a different woman. And she's dressed. I forgot to say- I usually go in the evening when she's a little lady in a nightie. Today, she's spruced up. I put my thumbs up, nodding. She does the same back. I hope she's got visitors coming. But how can that be, the home is in total lockdown? And then I thought, could family wave through her window? I'm guessing some do....
The next week we got the BBC commission and the idea of encouraging people to wave at residents in care homes, even waving to people shielding in their own home came to me. So the idea for How Hard is Waving? was born. It's about one family, 4 weeks in lockdown and how they connect over video calls. But for me, it was all inspired by my new friend, Hazel.
Day 107
I still go to wave. Hazel always rewards me by waving back. Often she blows the first kiss. She doesn't get up any more.
Rachael Savage
Hi Rachel. I have read this blog a fair few times recently. I too wave at Hazel and have done for quite a while, even before lockdown. One day I saw a lady talking to Hazel on the phone whilst looking through the window. This lady I now know is her daughter, and by coincidence have been serving her throughout lockdown at sainsburys. It was she that told me of this blog. You will be glad to know that even before the Wednesday wave that others have joined in, including a group of young men on their way to football training. Hazel ignored my waves that morning and certainly had a smile on her face. I just want to say thank you- making your story public gives people food for thought and hopefully through waving, others can make new friends too.
ReplyHi Rachael. Hazel is my mum and I go regularly to wave with the dogs. Thank you so much for making mum your friend. This means so much to us and I know mum really appreciates it. Hope to meet you again. Lots of love Shellie
ReplyDear Rachel. Thank you for your series, “How hard is waving”. Also the explanation behind it. I am Nick Moss’ sister, and your whole series has struck a chord with me. He and I waved on Zoom calls as he neared the end of his battle, but also sent virtual hugs.
ReplyI have noticed, here in rural West Wales, that waving and smiling at everyone else who has ventured out, whether you know them or not, has become much more prevalent. As we get to the stage where face masks cover the smiles, waving is taking on a new meaning and importance.
Thank you again!
Hi Katherine, Rachael is on well-earned leave at the moment, but I know she'd want to me to thank you so much for posting. Stay safe and keep waving :0)
ReplyDear Rachael,
ReplyThank you, thank you, thank you, it is so wonderful and heart-warming to read this, maybe I will manage to step out and wave too to make friends and connect to lonesome folks!? I have so appreciated, been touched by and enjoyed the video clips, from the initial ones of Ryan on his own through to the ones with you all making contact with each other, the last one is especially wonderful now that I have read what you wrote.
Warm wishes,
John
Thank you on behalf of Rachael and the How Hard is Waving team, John. We're hoping that Rachael's story will be the start of another project too - watch this space! Stay safe
ReplyI have really enjoyed the series, I watched everyday. I would like to see everyone reunited when all this is over ????
ReplyThank you Carole! We hope so too...
Reply