Dear Mumsnetters, I have returned to my thread to complete my story – insofar as it can be completed – as I feel you deserve to know how things worked out for me.
When the time came to leave the respiratory ward at 4pm precisely one week ago, there was no wheelchair to take me to DS1’s car. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was surprised and disappointed. I thought I had been through enough to have been wheeled out.
But it was what it was and sheer steroid rage carried me onto my feet and out of the ward. I followed a HCW pushing a man some 20 years my junior. I looked at his bags neatly arranged on the wheelchair’s handles and felt the weight of my own bag. The HCW didn’t ask if I wanted to put my bag on the handles. I would have said no anyway – they were in my way and I didn’t want to be delayed by them.
When I got to the exit, I realised that those picking patients up were not allowed to park anywhere near the exit as it was the area for ambulances. It was a final act of complete mismanagement. DS1’s car was about 75-100 meters down quite a steep slope. It was dark and raining. I couldn’t even tell from the exit door whether it was his car or not.
A receptionist asked me if I wanted to wait. What the heck for? Was a knight on a white steed going to gallop by and pull me onto the saddle behind him and deliver me to DS1? No – thought not. Again, rage pushed me out of the door and down the slope. As I approached his car, DS1 leapt out with one of those WTAF look on his face. I turned the air blue with expletives and he burst out laughing and gave me a bear hug – which felt so damn good (but in retrospect, might have been a mistake).
I was so grateful to get home, but I was merely moving from one version of Hell to another. DH was so very poorly. He is a tall, strong man in his mid 50s. He runs, works out and plays football every week and is in a much better physical condition that he was decades ago, when I met him. “Clever” COVID found his weak spot – arthritis in his hips and back - and punished him with extreme levels of pain in his bones and joints. He didn’t turn a corner until last Thursday, but he is far from well. He creeps about the house, is constantly tired and he speaks in whispers. His progress has been painfully slow.
Then, our children started to show symptoms – DD is on her way to recovery, DS1 is in the midst of heavy flu like symptoms and DS2 is starting to show symptoms too. They all took a home test yesterday and we are waiting for results. I am grateful that their symptoms are “mild” as I can honestly say that I was absolutely terrified that I would lose one of my children. I accept that those fears were completely irrational, but a few days ago, I was incapable of keeping them under control.
As far as my own health is concerned, I feel like I have been hit by a train. Nothing of me seems to be working properly. My head doesn’t appear to be sitting properly on my neck – my neck crunches every time I move it and I am constantly light headed. My eyesight and hearing have been damaged, I am constantly tired, and I am struggling to concentrate on anything. However, I have tried to push myself every day, so I have cooked for the family and I went for a short walk yesterday. Everything I do wears me out.
Emotionally, I was a complete disaster zone when I returned home. There was so little fresh food in the house when I returned and my steroid rage built this up to be a complete disaster. I was shouting at everyone – so unlike me. Happily, my dear friends went shopping for us. And my uncle and 2 cousins sent over a huge consignment of Cook products. So generous and thoughtful of them, and such a practical gift. I am so lucky to have such wonderful family members, friends and work colleagues.
I have struggled to keep emotionally well. You might have seen me on various threads in the Coronavirus arena, trying to warn people of the dangers and correct misinformation. I need to step away now, as I can’t save the world and I am repeatedly damaging myself. People are going to start dying in their thousands within the next few days. It is, as the scientists will say, baked in. I am a Cassandra crying into the wind.
I make my living from using my brain. All of my work is on a daily fee paid basis – usually several days at a time. If I work, I earn very good money. If I don’t work, I earn precisely nothing. My diary for January was full, but I have cleared most of it. I have no confidence in myself that I have the brain power or physical stamina to do any sort of decent job. I am quite afraid that my brain capacity will not return to what it was before. But it is what it is, and I can take early retirement if need be.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you about all the wonderful nurses and HCWs who helped save my life. I do remember names, but won’t use them here.
Firstly, I want to tell you about the African nurses and HCWs who formed the bulk of the staff on the night shifts. My understanding is that they were from African countries, as opposed to being black British, as I heard them softly sing-songing to one another in the ward at night, telling one another which countries they came from, and asking about regional languages. Soft tinkling laughter throwing embers of light into the darkness during the long terrifying nights. Some were qualified nurses, but many appeared to be new HCWs with no experience. I could hear the nurses training the HCWs throughout the night. Their loving care knows no limits and I am immensely grateful to them all. I tied to thank one HCW who had been extremely kind to me when I had been so frightened. He batted my thanks away. No, I said, no, you need to accept that what you did was so important to me. That’s okay, he said, and walked off. As he did so, I heard a nurse ask him for his name, so I hope he received some recognition.
Secondly, I want to tell you about the young Asian British woman who was volunteering on the ward. She already had a degree in a Bio-Science subject, had been turned down for a place in med-school last year and was hoping to get in this year. She is intelligent, hard-working, kind and just the sort of person our NHS desperately needs. I am completely baffled why she hasn’t already got a place at med-school. What on earth is going on?
Lastly, I want to tell you about the Polish nurse, who worked so hard, she was literally jogging around the ward. She frequently stopped by to tell me I was strong and would survive if I kept on going. She also shared photos of her beautiful daughters. I’m ashamed to say that I shouted at her the day before I came home – damn you steroid rage. I didn’t see her again and would really like her to know that I am sorry and grateful for everything she did for me.
And now to you, Mumsnetters. What on earth would I have done without all you anonymous women (and perhaps some men) who took me into your arms and helped me through my darkest days on CPAP and later, when everything seemed to be going pear shaped on the ward? You saved my life just as surely as the docs, nurses and HCWs saved my life. It is strange to me that I shall never know who you are, that I could pass you in the street and not know that you are one of my saviours. But I want you to know that I shall be grateful to you all for the rest of my life and you should be very proud of what you did.
I’m going to step away from my LittleSpy persona now and go back to one of my usual usernames. Please don’t feel the need to post anything in response. I shall read any responses you make but I shall not reply.
Please keep COVID away from your door. Protect yourselves and your loved ones. If you don’t need to go out, please don’t. Those who have to go out to work – the HCWs, those who work in supermarkets, who drive buses, who deliver goods – need the rest of us to be careful for their sakes, and to protect the NHS.
Mumsnetters – I salute you 