Life from Six Feet Apart: Part 1

Apr 10, 2020 by Jeanette Hanscome

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When my friend Julie and I flew home from London, I searched through the selection of movies and landed on a teen romance called Five Feet Apart. As a former YA author, I couldn’t resist, even though I knew as soon as I read the summery that it would be sad and probably sappy.

It’s about two cystic fibrosis patients who meet while in the hospital. Because CF patients can cross-infect each other, they must remain six feet apart at all times. No touching, no hugging. Stella lives by a strict routine and never wavers from the rules, knowing her survival depends on it. When mopey, non-compliant Will shows up, the nurses have nothing on Stella’s ability to make sure he sticks to his treatment regimen. Of course, they fall in love in the process, which makes six-feet-apart suddenly complicated. They want to kiss but can’t even hold hands. When one of their friends dies, Will can’t comfort Stella as she cries, “I never even got to hug him.”

Now, even Stella feels the oppression of the no-touching rules and all that CF has stolen from her. She is so tired of being afraid! Her first act of rebellion? Push the limits with Will by standing five feet apart.

The underlying message of the story is our need for human touch. Even when we’ve been told it’s dangerous, we can only keep those we love at arm’s length for so long.

Five Feet Apart was one of the first things that came to mind when this mysterious virus called for social distancing. Especially when three weeks stretched to no end in sight.

How long could the average person function this way, because I’d barely gotten through Week 1 before symptoms of touch withdrawals started setting in.

Julie, who knows me well, sent me a weighted blanket as a gift. “When it arrives, wrap it around yourself—a hug from me to you.” It could never take the place of a real hug from a friend, but it was something. When I sleep under it at night, feeling snug and cozy, I try to think of it as God’s comforting presence. Again, not quite the same thing as human presence, but it helps.

Long after this is over, that blanket will remind me of my dear friend who, though she knew she couldn’t magically fix the problem, sent a hug in a creative package. Instead of reminding me about health guidelines or leaving me feeling like I was being selfish and needy, she showed me in a tangible way that she understood.

The longer this goes on, the more I catch myself resenting “Hey, six feet apart, people!” reminders, as if we haven’t heard it a hundred times already on the news, in commercials, and through Facebook posts.

What I appreciate are those who admit that the physical distance is hard. I have noticed a lot of those this week.

Because it is hard.

Each of us has our own reasons for thinking the rules stink. We still obey them, but but deep down we resent what this disease has stolen from us, even temporarily.

[bctt tweet=”Each of us has our own reasons for thinking the rules stink. ” username=”JHanscomeWriter”]

We were wired for in-person connection and touch. Sure, some of us are huggier than others, but in the end, we all need it. When life turns upside down and sideways, we need closeness more than ever, but this time, we are all being told, “Stay away from those you most want to be with right now.”

So how can we, like my friend Julie, make this time a little easier for one another?

If you need some ideas, these things have lifted me up this week:

Finding social media posts—FB Live video, memes, blogs—that sent the message, “I know this is hard, but it won’t last forever.” Some even offered, “How can I pray for you today?” out to the masses.
Seeing people be honest and vulnerable about how the distance was affecting them and reading the comments that offered them hope and encouragement.
Seeing friends applaud those who reached out in creative ways.
Getting phone a phone call from a friend who was having a hard day and knew I would empathize. We spent as much time laughing as venting and both hung up feeling better.
Receiving a card in the mail with whimsical lettering and old stamps on the envelope.
Talking to two friends in one day, who’d called to catch up.
Noting what helped me get through a hard day or moment and recording it in my journal, and trying what friends said helped them.

Feeling the difference that these things made moved me to avoid what only made me feel more isolated and like this would never end: virus updates, “I saw two teenagers talking to each other in a public place” reports, or “This is why we all need to stay home.” Receiving virtual hugs inspired me to want to send them to others until we can give real ones again.

So here is my challenge:

Reach out to a least one friend who you know is struggling with this six-feet-apart life. Do something that will feel like a long-distance hug to her.
Put something out on social media that draws people in in a positive way.
If you discover a helpful solution for moments when you crave touch, share it.