Stay Alert – Control The Virus – Save Lives
There comes an indeterminant point in life when, without due care and attention, you can slide from being a competent adult in charge of your own life, a valuable citizen, someone to be spoken to directly into somebody else. Somebody who is not quite the sum of their own parts. The triggers are numerous – an incapacitating illness that effects movement making it slower, more awkward, less appealing. Voicing an opinion that is somehow out of kilter with the correct modern thinking and so attracts labels like dinosaur or grumpy, old ‘man’/’woman’. Struggling with digital living which, interestingly, is decried in both the young and the old alike but for obverse reasons. Either way it locks you firmly into a stereotype.
We have struggled and, I think, largely failed at Northern Guild, to develop therapy placements where those in their later years have parity of access to counselling and psychotherapy with adults in other age groups. Lots of reasons are given to explain the disparity – not as many older clients want therapy, older clients are hard to reach because they are often in care homes or sheltered accommodation, ill health prevents them from engaging. It’s a bit of a nuisance having to find clients like this, they are just not as interesting. Paying attention to diverse needs is something we take very seriously at the Guild This is a group for whom we must rethink what we are doing and find ways to do much, much better. We cannot go on letting this be a marginalised group with poor access to our therapists
Here are some lockdown snapshots from three people who have all passed three score years and ten. These are the stories of their Covid months. Names have been changed.
Dido
Born 1934
Formerly the Bursar of a Training Centre for a firm of City Accountants
Widowed 8 years ago, now lives alone
Drives a red compact crossover Suv
Lives with a serious underlying health condition
For years I have been the “paper girl” for three of us in the lane where I live. Despite the lockdown, I have still gone at 7am every morning to the paper shop by car, it takes me less than five minutes. When lockdown happened my neighbours, both in their 80’s too, would only accept the papers if, when I collected them, I wore gloves and posted them wrapped in polythene bags through their doors. One didn’t want to pay me with cash and has kept a tally to pay me monthly by BACS. Those who have relied upon friends to shop for them in lockdown are full of guilt, they feel they are putting on people and are now a nuisance or don’t know when they can repay kindnesses they have received.
I know of seven people who have had no physical contact with anyone for over 12 weeks, and some are now fraying at the edges, I phone all of them every other day and you can hear desperation and depression in their voices. They live in hope that the television will tell them nobody else has died that day. They are very frightened.
Some of my couples friends are also feeling the strain. One of my friends said that her husband complains every mealtime that the food is boring and repetitive - she is shopping on line at the only supermarket where she can get a slot. She is desperate to go out shopping but frightened she will take the virus home and kill him. Many of my friends are grandparents and desperate to see their grandchildren, but two of them won’t because they are so scared that now they are back to school they will give her the virus.
Some of my friends are much younger than me, 20 years in some cases. I find that they are often the most scared of all of us They won’t see friends because they can’t overcome the FEAR factor, fear that they will be infected by the virus. They just can’t work out a way to handle it and so they stay at home feeling really miserable.
Euthanasia is defined as ‘intentionally ending life to relieve pain’. The impact of lockdown on my age group, the elderly, has caused enormous suffering and irreparable damage to the mental health of people who were once normal, functioning adults. Law abiding, caring people have been turned into zombies, disturbed and destroyed by isolation, lack of proper social support, abandoned to make the best of it without the resources to help. Scared out of living life by endless briefings, statistics and graphs of mortality, lockdown has become a agonising living death for a lot of my friends.
I am an optimist. Life has taught me how to survive, often not kindly but certainly very effectively. I won’t give in to fear, FOGO – Fear Of Going Out – won’t kill me off, I won’t let it. Anyway, someone asked me if I was on Tinder last week!
Beatrice
Born 1946
Married to Henry for 53 years
Formerly a Head Teacher
Drives an Estate Car
Henry and I arrived in Bazoches on the evening of Sunday March for a 2 week break in our holiday home, we had little warning of what was about to happen in France. Perhaps we should have been more worried, the Hull - Zeebrugge ferry was practically deserted. But we assumed that it was because there were no passengers for Bruges as the bars there were closed.
The next day we said ‘Bonjour’ to our French neighbours. They were very surprised to see us as they were expecting an announcement that evening from the government about the Covid pandemic. When it came it was a big shock to the whole country. France would be in lockdown for 3 weeks from the following day at noon.
We were thrown. What should we do? Should we repack the car and return to England? As we were still very tired from the previous day’s drive through France this wasn’t very appealing.. We decided that three weeks isolation in Bazoches sounded ok, we had come for a rest and to open up the house for Easter for our grandchildren coming to stay. We would just have to go shopping very early the next morning and buy enough to last us 3 weeks.
The following morning we got up very early and drove to the nearest Lidl, about 20 mins away. It surprised us to see people queuing, everyone was wearing masks and gloves. We'd only taken some wipes for the trolley, Our lack of the right protective clothing meant we got some strange looks and the odd ‘ les Anglais!’ which we pretended not to notice. The shelves were full, there was plenty of everything to buy. The only thing in short supply was toilet paper but we had plenty at the house already.
At noon that day everything changed as Lockdown began. The rules of French Lockdown were strict:
*Everyone must stay at home, in isolation, for 3 weeks
* It is permitted to leave home for exercise but only within a 1km radius
*No unnecessary journeys can be made; travel within a distance of 10 km can be made for specific
permitted reasons – food shopping, medical appointments and so forth
*Only one person can travel in a car at any one time
*Every time anyone leaves home they must take a signed and dated attestation with them, detailing who they were, where they were from and where they were going to
Gendarmes were on the roads to check papers and issue on the spot finds it you didn't have correct paperwork
Those first few days were very stressful with a lot of ‘what ifs‘ in my head, especially at night. I slept badly and worried endlessly. What if one of us became ill and had to go to hospital? What if I never get home to my family? What if it went on longer than 3 weeks?
Fortunately we had plenty of jobs in the house to keep us busy. And at 6.00 pm every night we met with our neighbours for a chat, talking across the road to one another. After a while this developed into a social, twice weekly, aperitif time. We took it in turns to share a bottle of wine but using our own glasses and with everyone standing away from the person pouring the wine! These early aperitif meetings were chilly, so coats and sometimes hats had to be worn. As the weather improved and the lockdown eased our aperitif sessions have started to become more normal, although social distancing was still the norm.
We also had a visit from the gendarmes. They were checking on every occupied home to answer questions and make sure we had no problems. Somewhat reassuring and totally unexpectedly
we were also provided with 2 medical grade masks each entirely free of charge.
Three weeks became three months. Henry and I developed a new rhythm to our lives. Over that time we relaxed more and learned to truly appreciate our beautiful surroundings. We consider ourselves both privileged and very fortunate. Lockdown restrictions have been eased progressively over the three months and there is now freedom of travel. Although we have had occasional panics about our family and about getting back home we made the decision to stay in France as we thought it was much safer than England.
The restrictions put in place in France took us completely by surprise. They were not suggestions, they were instructions, they had to be obeyed and they were enforceable by law. They have however been very successful and the country now appears to have the virus under control. France has returned to a new normal - shops, bars, restaurants are all open, though masks are still worn by most people in shops and bars and social distancing is still the norm everywhere.
We are now reluctantly planning to return to England at the weekend as I have a hospital appointment which I have already cancelled twice. I’m not sure how it will feel to be back. If it weren’t for me medical needs I would definitely stay until the autumn. I have found a new sense of me and cast off the mantle of some of the many roles I have in normal life. Henry and I are more relaxed together. I feel freer than I have in years, carefree, able to please myself. I have found a me that I lost many years ago when easy going youth gave way to mature adult hood. This time in France has given me the space to be carefree again in a way I never dreamed of. I don’t want to let go of it. I am afraid to return but not because of the virus. I don’t want my new life to end – I love it!
Kay
Born 1934
Widowed 6 years
Formerly a Wren
No longer drives
Poor mobility due to a failed spinal procedure
I moved out of my flat 10 months ago. I went there when my husband Colin died. It had amazing views of the town and the municipal flower beds. If I felt lonely I just had to look out to feel part of life. I made a good friend, Annie, she was my kind of person and we ended up doing lots of social things together. We even went on group coach holidays together. Things changed when I started to get pain in my back which eventually became unbearable. The specialist told me that there was an operation I could have but the success rate was about 60% and it could leave me paralysed if I was really unlucky. I put it off for as long as I could. But the pain worsened and I just couldn’t go on so I went under the knife.
The operation failed, I can still move around but I’m very unstable and need a walking frame. I take a lot of painkillers. It wasn’t safe to continue living on my own so I moved here, to Bradgate Towers. I have a lovely room on the ground floor withs its own external door onto a small private patio with outdor table and chairs and a small garden. It’s perfect, more like a 5 star hotel. The facilities are beautiful and all is very clean and well maintained. And the staff are lovely, they pop into my room for chats and give me support and we have quite a bit of fun together. Bradgate had a lively social programme when I moved in. You can’t get on with everybody in a place like this but I had my own small circle of friends. The food was never especially good. But my sister, who is younger, would would take me out shopping or pop into M&S for me and I could put ready meals in the kitchen freezer. Family would take me out for meals, we were planning trips to the cinema, life was looking good. In the home itself I emerged as a leader and campaigner to improve the social programme. I gained respect from management and staff alike and residents would come to me with requests to put forward. Staff and management sought my views. Just before lockdown I organised a minibus to take us all out for trips and this was going to improve my life in a very real way. I had self respect and a sense of being a valued member of this community.
Covid changed everything. People on the top floor, which is reserved for those suffering from dementia, were the first to get the virus. It was all hushed up in the beginning but I have my ways of finding out what is going on and staff, who were anxious, began to confide in me. Then the people on the first floor got it. They have rooms like mine but they don’t have outside doors. They were stuck up there and the windows were only allowed to be opened slightly and sometimes not at all. It must have been hell up there in all of this hot weather. Bit by bit everything stopped – no more social activities, hardly anyone walking out in the gardens. Then the food hit rock bottom. The chef left and they brought some cocky 18 year old lad in who didn’t care tuppence. The menus would always sound amazing but the reality is very different. Ham salad was a small piece of wafer thin ham, a few lettuce leaves and a mound of mashed potato. I’m a good cook and I know what nice food is. One day I didn’t get breakfast. It was past 10 o’clock and I was hungry. Everyone else’s breakfast trays had long since been cleared away. When I rang my buzzer to find out why I hadn’t had mine I was told they were still trying to find some brown bread for my toast. I pay £900 a week to be here – money my grandchildren won’t get – and there is never any brown bread.
I have had the chef brought to my room on three separate occasions to complain. The rest of the staff know its bad. You can tell he doesn’t care. He always says the same thing – tell me what you want and I’ll make it for you. I always ask for two things, brown bread and fresh vegetables. The only time there are fresh vegetables is at Sunday lunch. It’s the only meal I look forward to. I’ve started keeping a diary about the food and when the time is right I’ll make a complaint. But I daren’t right now. I’m too scared. My friend is moving to a new home, it’s just being completed and will open in a month. She says this place has gone to the dogs. I thought about moving, too but I’m worried that I wouldn’t get as nice a room again and I like most of the staff here.
We are now on complete lockdown No visitors at all, not even outside. Its awful. I am so bored and there is nothing to stimulate my mind or body. All I can do is read and watch TV and tend my little garden.
I’m getting really down and can’t eat the food. Food is the only thing to look forward to and it is so very bad now.
Right now we don’t have a manager, she left as many of the staff did, as they are afraid of Covid being present in here. This means we are often reliant on agency staff, especially at weekends, and junior staff are having to take on roles that they have not been properly trained to do. At least twice now I have been offered the wrong medication and it is only because I have all my faculties that I refused it and reported the matter but it still happened again.
Many of the residents have been taken to hospital and some have died. This is very upsetting. The whole place feels very sad. We are experiencing grief and loss week by week. The people in rooms either side of me have both died and yesterday the funeral people came 3 times to take bodies away. Sadness is the thing I feel most. I am beginning to feel desparate. Things are not good.
Some residents are going off it. Screaming and crying. Many cannot take it without visits from loving family. I haven’t been able to sleep for the past few nights because of the noise and distress from other residents. The homes answer is to sedate them when they become too much for the staff or other residents. This means that once fairly lively people are becoming what the world calls “gaga”. I feel afraid that I will become like this.
My sister is concerned and wants to make a report to the head office but I won’t let her. I am a competent, clear headed, independent woman and I will make complaints myself when I have gathered enough evidence. I am keeping a diary. However, she says I am becoming obsessed but I am not I can tell you that! I am angry, bored, sad and distressed.
I try to talk to some of the other residents but a lot of them aren’t what they used to be, this virus has got them so scared they’ve just shut down. It’s too scarey here. I’m trying to keep myself going, I weed my little garden with a spoon and I talk to my family every week. But I miss their visits, I miss being taken out, I miss all the social activities. I’ve had a good life and if and when I die I want to go out laughing and happy. Not like this.