Life in Lockdown

16^th March 2020, the official announced day of isolation, loneliness, and fear. Living in a Key-Working NHS household, it was an odd feeling knowing that my mother would be risking our lives in order to help others save theirs. I almost felt hatred and selfishness for a while, knowing my mother was putting herself into dangerous circumstances for not nearly enough pay or gratitude. Until her work was beginning to be acknowledged. 

8pm. Religiously we stood outside clapping, amongst our fellow neighbours - knowing that our community and country would be standing with us too. In such time of seclusion, it was comforting to know that people’s efforts were being praised, whether it was just the clapping on a Thursday evening, or people doing events to raise money or awareness.

There was a lengthy routine which had to be carried out before I could hug my mother, or even talk to her for that matter. She was strictly warned that she is forbidden to wear her freshly cleaned and ironed uniform to the hospital which had been prepared for her deathly shift ahead, instead she must wear clothes that could easily be washed and could be thrown away if needs be. She obliged of course. And so, did I. I didn’t question her on how her day was, how many deaths there had been on her standalone shift that day, or how many families she had to witness their heart being broken; until after she had washed her clothes, washed her body, and washed away her sadness and loss of yet another day of heartbreak. 

 It was difficult knowing that my mother could be defeated by such an aggressive killer, and in the end to the government she would just be another number added to the death list. Being a small family of three for 13 years, it is extremely hard for me to comprehend what life would be like if it were to be anything different. Ultimately if I lost my mother, I would lose myself.

Eventually, she was moved away from the ward of depression and devastation, to go back onto her original ward – which wasn’t much better. Although a hospital is a hospital, they are not supposed to be the nicest of utopias. This made me feel better, more secure and safe – knowing that my mother would be somewhat guaranteed to come back home safely to me, and for that I am grateful.