I'm not worried. I'm resigned to the likelihood.
If my mother gets it, which admittedly would be difficult when she hates everybody except my perfect fucking brother and his adult children, I'm sure she'll die, partly because she wouldn't want anybody coming in and potentially stealing her hoards of shit whilst seeing to her, so wouldn't call for help. But she's in her late 80s and my other brother who lived there and did all the shopping died last year; I accepted that she will probably die within the next year or so anyhow.
My half sister has lung problems and even a common cold can put her into hospital. Her husband is terminally ill with brain cancer anyhow - put the two together and you have two people around hospital lots and not likely to survive severe respiratory illness. One of my nieces is on strong immunosupressants as her autoimmune disease affects her heart and lungs - she's 40 but looks about 90 already.
DP's father has had two strokes and early onset Parkinson's. His Aunt is in her 70s. His Grandmother has dementia.
I'm not saying that they are all definitely going to die of it, but it would not surprise me if some of them were going to die relatively soon anyhow, and if it wasn't this, it would be their existing conditions or something like flu.
What saddens and scares me is the thought that the voices, accents and stories of Dartmoor, Devon and Cornwall could be lost forever.
Mainly because of fucking second homers.