Those were my brother’s last words to me as our phone call ended. I was quite taken aback. Was this outbreak really going to be that serious? Those words haunted me for days.
His letter from his GP had stated to stay in for twelve weeks, shielding they called it. We would still be able to phone each other, or even use Skype or Zoom, but would that really be enough.
I had not even considered him in the past, when I jetted off around the world for months on end, so why did this feel different. As the daily death tolls rose, so did my worries.
For reasonably healthy people, the initial three-week lockdown was an inconvenience, nothing more. That is until it was extended and then extended once again. What had seemed to be a welcome break turned into a period of tedium.
The threat was still out there, did I really want or need to go outdoors? I had had so much freedom in the past, so many choices of what to do or where to go. I felt trapped. I felt shackled.
The death toll continued to rise. The black cloud that was the virus was getting closer to home. Local hospitals started to reach their capacity.
Rumours began to circulate about emergency procedures: –
“For over 60’s -Do not resuscitate”
“For over 70’s – Do not use ventilator”
The fear of CORVID 19 was palpable. People shied away from each other. No-one would answer their front door.
As the peak of the virus passed, the lockdown seemed to be overkill. The press were baying for the Prime Minister’s blood. They wanted answers.
I was in no rush to end my period of self-isolation. So I stayed home, stayed safe and saved myself.
