What self-isolation means to us oldies

What self-isolation means to us oldies

It has become increasingly plain that the main target of the deadly Corona Virus that is attacking the world right now is the older members of the population. What makes that especially hurtful to me is that I have the added shock being hammered home, that I come into the ‘At Risk’ group since I am not just over 70 but over 80. I also have Asthma, which is not a dreadful inconvenience most of the time as long as I take my inhalers but now and again if I do get one of the winter or indeed the odd summer bugs it will always sink with a thud to me chest. This has resulted in Pneumonia several times in the last five years. My father suffered from Asthma during his life time and he developed lung Cancer after smoking roll-ups for much of his life, giving up the habit too late. So I suppose I inherited the weak chest from my lovely dad.

For the past thirty years I have taken part to my joy, in the sport of triathlon. That came about by hitting the age of fifty and not being too happy about  having let my marvellous childhood fitness level slide badly in middle age by participating in very little exercise and eating a little too much between the ages of twenty five and fifty. In my fiftieth year I did, along with my husband Stephen strive to turn back the clock as far as possible. The first move was to join a gym which was a jolly good move that I highly recommend.

The 2020 race season was all set to be mind bogglingly adventurous, with a number of wonderful Ironman brand races in Europe entered and a further commitment to another handful of old favourite races in the UK long before the onset of  summer season.

Then the very Devil chose to rise up and curse the world with something as evil as the Corona Virus. Can I be the only person on the planet to think that this was done intentionally, the master plan by some evil bastard, now chuckling fit to bust. Surely I am not the only one who believes this. You can dismiss me as a fruit cake it you please, but you will not convince me otherwise. Time will tell.

It has surprised me that there are a lot of people it seems, with their heads in the sand, still not reacting in the same ‘End of the World’ mode as me. So many are still carrying on with their lives in the same sweet way; thinking that it is not really that serious.

I do have friends who are staying indoors as much as they can, not socialising at all. One in particular, who is very concerned because his wife does have a serious lung and heart problem already. He told me this in an email: We have been in voluntary isolation since early February, meeting no-one. 

His wife has an incurable respiratory disease affecting her lungs and heart. He goes on ‘At her age, the Corona virus is a great danger, not helped by the Government's policy of letting things take their course. Soon the pressure on the NHS seems likely to lead to rationing of intensive care treatment, savagely damaging the chances of people in her position. So we are doing all we can to minimise the risks. His wife is due to have a cataract operation on Friday. Let us hope it proceeds!  She could have chosen to defer this, but it could be delayed for months. Despite all this, our morale remains high. He stressed to me that his ailing wife has enormous courage. His final words on his email were true to his personality and none of our group would be surprised at this last touch:

Fortuitously, we bought an OLED 55 inch television in the January sales, and are very impressed with the picture improvement.  Ideal timing for people with time on their hands! He added this, from an old Chinese curse:

"May you live in interesting times."

I sent a message to one of my dearest friends saying it must be such a worry for her with divorced parents, both in their eighties and living on their own. How difficult it will be for her to look after them even though they are in seemingly quite rude health for their ages. My friend’s response was that she had just been to the art house cinema with her mother, who she takes out regularly. She said that her mum had said “If I die I die”. So I presume that she had been told that my husband and I had decided to stay indoors and cut ourselves off from social contact for the duration of this deadly outbreak.

I am not ready for that kind of attitude myself. Even though I will be 81in August. I will do whatever I can to put off catching this plague like snake slithering mercilessly through our midst. It is more difficult to stay healthy if we are ordered to stay in our homes for our own protection. Right now it is only advice.

Yet my husband and I are taking as many of the suggestion of ‘how to stay safe’, very much to heart. A lot of regular cleaning is going on, hand washing, rubber glove and wipes. No visitors any more, the death count is racing up daily. I feel it is not cowardly, not a tiny bit daft, just common sense to want to at least try to live another day, another week, another year. I am not done yet, my ‘to do’ list is enormous, still my bucket list of places I want to visit is very long, races I want to swim bike and run through are still many.

Meanwhile the group of thoughtless people, who carry on regardless of who they might infect is only reducing slowly, not believers until they see for themselves.

 This poem of mine below, that was, at the time full on double meaning, was written in 2016 but I feel it covers today as truly since we are all waiting for what comes next in an uncertain world.    

Thoughts in a waiting room

Sitting alone watching the rain

as heavy grey clouds move in,

classical crescendo volume gain.

Drops splatter, close thunder plain

summer leaves flurry, all in a spin.

Music and rain compete for attention

as I wait for him to come back,

the weather still as aforementioned.

Showers slip by without prevention

petals brighten a natural attack.

Waiting is not always felt a chore

whilst he has aches massaged away,

a private peace not bargained for.

Still as his muscles ease some more

his treatment and my mind at play.