My Run-in With Covid 19

I think we’re all of the opinion that our world has changed with COVID-19 in one way or another. Mine certainly has. But not so much my daily life as my outlook on life. For the first time in almost 65 years, I have had to take a close look at how I view life as a South African, which is remarkable considering how much our country has changed in my lifetime. But with previous changes, there was always hope. Hope that things would normalise.

COVID-19 has changed us. European countries and China were caught unawares. The USA was in denial; Australia went into panic mode (prompted by the devastating fires earlier). They had no clue what was coming or how much of it would come their way.

There are theories that the virus originated from eating the endangered Pangolin in China, where it is commonly believed that anything and everything can be devoured relentlessly. I hope the ban on consuming wild animals in China will endure. Laws seldom change people’s behaviour or customs. I fear poaching and illegal importation will escalate once the panic subsides and we all go back to “normal”. 

Africa has been a source of much illegal animal trade, and many of our species are threatened. When the dice fall, Africa is always the scapegoat. I hope our Rhino horns and Elephant tusks are safe now.

The Earth has a remarkable way of recovering, as we can see—blue skies in Wuhan, dolphins in Venice’s clear blue waters and canals, etc. We really are the plague, and when we self-isolate, the Earth heals. We can attribute COVID-19 to wealth, greed, overpopulation, our dietary habits, and mechanisation, urbanisation, cheap labour, or globalisation. Think of it, and we can only nod in agreement.

We have all been bombarded with information and more disinformation. Right now, I want to scream. I want to distance myself from anyone giving me any more advice, whether it’s from the bottom of their hearts or said facetiously. The toilet jokes aren’t funny anymore; they’re only boring. Kindness is the new buzzword; that’s the one thing we must all be. Respectful, kind, considerate and thoughtful. All well and good until we must practise it.

With any great upheaval, such as death, divorce or change, we go through stages. The five stages - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance - are part of the framework that helps us learn to live with loss. The list of things lost is longer than my arm. We have all lost our freedom and our perspective. Many people have lost a fortune, their pensions, incomes and their jobs. Thousands of families have lost loved ones. Everyone will experience the stages of loss differently, for different lengths of time and at different times. In a home with five people, five different stages will be happening at once. It is real and very scary.

If we do not talk and discuss how we are going to manage this state of limbo in a meaningful, mature, and respectful way, we are not only putting our health at risk; we’re also putting our relationships at greater risk.

Just this week, it happened in our house: I inadvertently did something that brought great pain, anger, and hostility down on us. First, because we’re inherently helpful and kind; second, we hadn’t really discussed the scenarios seriously or thought through how they might play out. Until they happened and we were at loggerheads. We reached a stalemate in anger and disappointment. We underestimate other people’s anxieties until we hear them tossing and turning all night. Communication is vital in times of great stress, and we’re all guilty of bottling up or assuming other people know our fears. They don’t.

Priorities and principles differ and can shift depending on who we want to accommodate or impress. At times like this, we’re confused. I am an all-or-nothing person when it comes to personal choices, but I can be flexible too. My memory is also quite short. Call me capricious. It is interesting to see how this all plays out.

The status quo now is that we’re self-isolating. This means Butch will continue to go to work, where systems are in place to safeguard staff and clients. These include hand sanitisers and wipes, remote correspondence where encouraged (e.g., email, phone calls, or WhatsApp), and, where possible, working from home offices. Staff are encouraged to self-isolate at work and especially at home. His colleagues and staff will also be encouraged to get vaccinated. Winter is coming.

At home, we will be socially distancing ourselves. We will not fraternise. This isolation is motivated by the belief that we are all responsible for flattening the COVID-19 curve. Respect for our friends, family, neighbours, and colleagues motivates us to stay healthy, build our immunity, and avoid being responsible for their becoming ill or dying. In the same vein, we consider everyone we encounter a risk of our becoming infected.

Therefore, I wear gloves when I go shopping or use an ATM. I only touch my credit card, and where possible I’ll even Snap Scan. I disinfect my hands regularly, and I stay at least 2 metres from people. Shopping online is my first choice for purchases. I know a cough can compromise someone’s immunity. Spittle travels far and wide, not only onto countertops.

Both our immune systems are compromised by conditions such as high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and hay fever. To protect ourselves, we will get vaccinated against winter flu and receive the pneumonia shot, Prevnar. I keep a thermometer handy and have the Covid-19 Hotline number saved, so I am prepared to act quickly if symptoms appear. Staying informed and proactive can help us stay safe and healthy.

We have my bike set up on blocks in the TV room to exercise, rather than in a squash court, which is dreadfully noisy. I’ve downloaded the spinning apps CycleGo and The Sufferfest. I would like some sun on my face, which I’ll get while gardening (which is not much). I do not yet qualify for the pensioners’ shopping hour at Pick ‘n Pay, but I’ll crawl in when the shops are less busy; early mornings are preferred, except on Wednesdays.

Socially, we weren't very active until these new measures were introduced; now my phone pings and rings non-stop with invitations to drinks, braais, suppers, and outings. It breaks my heart to decline, but we’re in this together. Upwards and onwards. I have been warned: one wrong foot, and I’m in solitary isolation for two weeks. The moment I pressed send on my WhatsApp message to my bridge mates, I knew I’d committed to running with this.  

Fortunately, we have a cupboard full of DVDs (the leftovers after someone swiped some), shelves filled to the rafters with books, and I can crochet, finish that monstrosity I knitted decades ago, write stories, blog, cook, bake, experiment with food, or vegetate with Netflix. What I’m not going to do is spend my days on social media, getting my knickers in a twist. We will not stockpile anything except wine, beer, gin, or whisky. I must confess that, with three abodes (Home, sea and Honey Badger), we have, by chance, sufficient double-ply rolls for the foreseeable future. But we’ve discussed the issue and have resolved that at least.

I pray my parents (88) will cope. Fortunately, their needs are few. My Dad is an introvert, and they’re still very fit and healthy. He’s quite happy with a book or his Kindle, and my Mum relishes the hour he spends reading to her every afternoon after her nap. They still take their daily constitutional, which I believe brings much joy to many locals. It breaks my heart to know I won't see them on Sundays for lunch, but I know it’s for their well-being. My brother, a pharmacist, keeps them in the loop on all medical advances. Fortunately, they trust him and their GP implicitly. 

While I know this too shall pass, I worry about my children and grandchildren. Fortunately, they live in a first-world country where every available aid is at their disposal and every precaution will be taken, but the fear remains, mostly because they’re not under my wing. Thank God I don't have their responsibilities, e.g. homeschooling, entertaining those small people in confined spaces, and keeping up standards of hygiene. Self-isolation must be hell when all you want to do is sleep, binge eat and binge watch TV. Good luck.

This brings me to my final thought. We are fortunate to live in a unified world where we are all on the same page about COVID-19, and we have unprecedented facilities for swift and easy communication. We live in extraordinary times.

1. Should I order a Garter Mask from Didi Couture? They’re beautiful, lacy little things (just like a bride’s garter) and, at only R280.00 ($15.80, $22,87CAD, ֩€14, 78 or £13.64), a bargain, all things considered. Or should I wait until the ZAR strengthens? 

2. What do you think of a magnetised notice for the Honey Badger: “The passengers in this vehicle are under quarantine. Do not enter”? I think it’s a jolly fine idea.

Stay well. Be kind, and remember there are millions of South Africans, the most vulnerable and marginalised in our society, who need our support and protection. Winter is coming; we’ve seen nothing yet, and we need to be proactive. I leave all protesting against my situation to the Health Union Nehawu, who are up in arms and ready to take mass action on our behalf.

When all this is over, I hope we treat Mother Earth with respect.  We have been warned. Again.

“Self-isolate, but don’t turn your back. When I was a boy and saw scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” Fred Rogers. From Daily Maverick, 21/3/2020