Corona Diaries

Kylie

“I have been working at the care home for two months now, where my time has been a rollercoaster. The

enemy has been and gone, taking with it six residents.”

Background Information

Female, aged 18-24, Care assistant/Barista, South Wales, White, living at home with family.

Picked up work in a Care home during UK lockdown.

April 2020

The first third of 2020 has certainly been a surreal start of a year for me. The first ten weeks I spent living

my best life. I went down under for a month in Australia lodging with family, several nights in Melbourne, a

fortnight in a campervan cruising up Great Ocean Road from Melbourne to Adelaide. I spent another

fortnight in Bali Indonesia and another dotted around Thailand. But as my trip drew to a close on 12th March

and I landed back in Gatwick, where I was met by my grandparents, I bounced from one extreme of

freedom and wanderlust to another extreme of restriction and immobility. I returned home and within days a

national lock down was declared. Though I must admit, I was surprised at the lack of caution taken when I

landed in Gatwick. My flight had initially left Thailand, a country tethering at the top of the global risk ranks

for Covid-19, yet I passed through the United Kingdom’s boarders without a single caution. On the flight

home I filled with panic, imagining I’d be quarantined for two weeks before even being able to see my

family. I imagined myself stuck in a dingy box room, visited throughout the day by nurses in full PPE.

Though I realise now that this was clearly dramatic, and I had given in to over thought musings.

Nevertheless, I expected to return home and pick up loads of shifts, to earn back all the money I had

fluttered away on my travels. Since the dawn of the pandemic, Prime Minister Boris Johnson, along with

members of parliament, delivered a daily UK corona virus speech at 5pm. Therefore, I was devastated on

Friday 20th March at 5pm when Boris Johnson announced that all bars, cafes, restaurants, pubs, gyms,

leisure centres and non-essential shops were to close for three weeks, taking affect the following morning. I

work in a small local café. I had worked a total of four shifts all year and now my workplace was closing.

Although I was unnerved by the fact that my bank account wouldn’t be reimbursed for a while, I was more

anxious about what I would do with all the free time. I had already indulged in enough time off while

travelling. Simply, I didn’t want more of it. I craved getting back into some sort of routine. I was ready to rise

early in the mornings and fall into bed exhausted by the end of the day, filling the hours productively.

Essentially, the expanse of idle time laying ahead made me feel uneasy. I imagine it was the same for

many type A personalities, those people who thrive off productivity, insist on filling very living moment with

purpose and dread wasting time. Equally, I imagine the current situation is sending multitudes of people

into mental despair. I thought of all the quotidian routines destroyed for so many people; the elderly

regulars at the cafe where I worked, who came in religiously, placing the same order at more or less the

same time every day or every week. The dedicated hustlers who joined me at the gym every day. The

workers who had been in the same job over several decades, not knowing any other way of living (my

bricklayer Dad). The shopaholics who insisted on going to the shops every day to pick up non-essential

items, perhaps just to kill time and give them something to do with the day (my widowed Gran).

Gym-goers began panic building their own gyms so home exercise equipment is sold out on every website.

Germaphobes began incessantly scrubbing their hands, leaving their skin raw, and started having anxiety

attacks after touching a surface. Workaholics drove themselves mad bound by the confines of their home

walls. Although statutory desktop workers can work from home, construction workers are forced to take

time off. It is perhaps worse for this kind of worker as they are used to being active all day long. But one

comforting aspect is the fact that almost every person on earth is in the same position, and this mental trial

is causing communal anxiety as opposed to isolated worry.

Friday 20th March was also the last day that schools and colleges were open in the UK, causing disarray in

the academic calendar. Pupils were assigned online lessons and instructed to work from home with online

support. Year eleven pupils concluded their final year of comprehensive school, said goodbye to their

teachers and peers, signing shirts as they would have done in June. I sympathised with the hard -working

students who had toiled for two years towards their GCSE examinations that would never be sat. Instead

they were to be awarded their predicted grades. Likewise, A-Level students were also awarded their

predicted grades. This leaves their chances of getting into their chosen university riding on grades that

perhaps do not reflect their true capability, had they the opportunity to graft hard over the coming few

months in preparation of their exams. All I could say was thank goodness I was free from academic study

this year, as I know for a fact I wouldn’t have coped with this destruction, being so assiduous in my studies.

There is national uncertainty around when the academic year will be back up and running, leaving students

and teachers on a ledge. Nobody was really certain what the best solution would be, there was no simple

way out of this destruction.

The following weekend proved that the majority of Britons were clearly not capable of taking serious

matters into their own hands, as millions of people took the time off work and school as a recreational bank

holiday. It was Mothering Sunday like no other. Usually a day for brunching, fine dining and family dinners,

which, this year, have all been ruined by an invisible enemy- Covid-19. Too many hugs and kisses were

not delivered nor received. Citizens with sense visited their mothers and grandmothers from a safe

distance, over audio-visual calls, or through a window. Some families, mine included, set themselves up

two metres apart on driveways to visit seventy-plus relatives. Like many, we placed Mother’s Day gifts on

the ground in between our gap, so Nan could retrieve them once we were back a safe distance. Others

took to receiving gifts on a long pole through an ajar window, or simply delivered written messages through

the glass.

Many other special occasions and significant dates in the calendar, such as birthdays, anniversaries and

Easter weekend, were soon to become ones to remember. So many long-followed traditions tampered with.

Although not celebrating as one might have planned, at a time like this, many people simply became

grateful for their health and bodily strength as opposed to how many Easter eggs or birthday cards they

received.

Nevertheless, not all families played by the rules, meaning national parks, beaches and seaside resorts

received record breaking visitors that first weekend of lock-down, flooding the country with risk. It is sad to

think that the elderly people, who were at the greatest risk of dying from the virus, were once young men

and women fighting World War Two - battered soldiers and tender nurses. They had survived hell for their

nation, and it seemed unfair to let them pass on from this life another figure on the UK Covid-19 death toll.

They fought so we could live freely. Yet today, it seems that younger generations selfishly can’t ‘do their bit’

in return, when all they must do is obey regulations and stay home to prevent the spread of the such a

vicious and deathly virus. It is absurd that there are people complaining about endless days on the couch,

no morning alarms or unwanted company, when our ancestors have spent months on battlefields and down

trenches.

In response to the irresponsibility shown that weekend, at 8:30pm on Monday 23 rd March the BBC aired

Boris Johnson’s ‘announcement to the public’. This evening’s 5pm speech was replaced by a direct

message from the Prime Minister in which he did what everyone was expecting; he locked the nation down.

Guidelines enforced by the British government were as follows:

Stay at home

Only go outside for food, health reasons or work (but only if you cannot work from home)

If you go out, stay 2 metres (6ft) away from other people at all times

Wash your hands as soon as you get home

Do not meet others, even friends or family.

You can spread the virus even if you don’t have symptoms.

* * *

It felt like the nation, along with the rest of the world, was cast in a dystopian film. Thinking about it the

pandemic would make an interesting film plot. The police were akin to George Orwell’s “Party members”. It

became part of their duty to pull cars and question the purpose of the driver’s journey, to parole the streets

and disperse gatherings of people who were not from the same household. Citizens were rewarded for

reporting people they had seen leaving their homes more than once a day, giving the perfect opportunity to

debauch a feuding neighbour. A monotone radio announcement began playing during Spotify and

television advertisement breaks, the same message popped up on social media apps and internet

browsers. This message was as follows:

This is a vital update from the Government about corona virus. To help save lives stay at home. Anyone

can spread corona virus. Only leave your home for the following reasons: - to shop for basic necessities –

to pick up medicine or provide care to those who need it – to exercise once a day, alone or with members

of your household – only travel to work when you absolutely cannot work from home. If you have to go out

for any of these reasons always stay 2 metres apart. Do not meet others outside your household, even

friends and family. Stay home. Protect the NHS. Save lives.

The media was swarmed by corona virus. There was little else discussed on news channels, in

newspapers or news websites. Every morning I received a notification on my iPhone from Apple news:

Corona virus updates you might have missed overnight, and one every evening: Watch live: Government to

hold daily coronavirus news briefing shortly. Social media was taken over by home workouts, food recipes,

nomination challenges between friends (there was downing an alcoholic drink, going bald, kicking a toilet

roll, uploading a baby photo, running 5K - the latter actually being purposeful as with this participants were

expected to donate five pounds to the pandemic), therapeutic quotes, advice captions from influencers,

conspiracy theories and lock down propaganda:

My morning runs became eerily quiet. Morning rush hour became a commodity of the past as only key

workers were required to commute to work. Since there were limited vehicles on the road, I often took

advantage of the free feeling and ran on them instead of the pavement. I relished the sense of freedom this

gave me at such an otherwise restricted time.

Not that I’ve been to one since I’ve returned home, as Dad has insisted on being the only member of the

household to do any shopping during these times, but supermarkets and convenience stores have imposed

strict measures in order to reduce the spread of the virus. I have occasionally passed Aldi and Tesco

Express on my daily run and can say that the tableau one meets at these ordinary stores certainly reflects a

scene from a dystopian film. One must go to the supermarket solo. If a couple try to shop together, only

one is permitted to enter the shop when reaching the front of the outside queue. This queue is in place to

operate a one out-one in system. This is to ensure aisles do not get over crowded and shoppers are able to

keep a safe two metres apart. There are markings on the floor at a two-metre distance in the queuing area

outside most shops to enforce these new, somewhat bizarre but necessary, rules. The country has gone

cashless and the maximum contactless spend has risen from thirty pounds to forty, to reduce germs

conjugating on frequently touched keypads. Dad tells me that the shop assistants have a shield at the till to

block germs reaching them. Yet ironically, they are shoulder to shoulder with their colleagues elsewhere.

Supermarket store assistants were now frontline workers, inevitably put at peak risk due to the fact that

they cannot tell which customers are carriers of the vicious microbe.

* * *

The already hostile bond between America and China – two global superpowers - splinters at a perilous

moment for the world economy. President Trump is accusing China of conceiving the virus in a scientific

laboratory in Wuhan where the virus originated back in January. Scientists studying Covid-19 think it was

likely to have spread from bats to humans via a host animal. They have not ruled out an accidental lab

spillage but think it unlikely. China has denied all claims that it came from the lab, but their miraculous

containment of the virus indicates that they had premonition. China prodigiously built the one-thousand-bed

Huoshenshan Hospital from scratch within ten days. To me, it is a wonder where they got the machinery

and supplies to do so in such a short period of time. It seems as though they had them ready and waiting

for the outbreak. They also dubiously doubled their death figures so that they were more or less in line with

other European countries whose death tolls were rapidly taking over that of China. Supposedly this was an

attempt to cover-up their inexplicable rein on the invisible killer that was spreading like wild fire, cutting a

grim path across the rest of the globe. But when pressed to provide evidence to support his allegations

President Trump’s response was “I’m not allowed to tell you that”, much like a spiteful child involved in a

play-ground scuffle.

Undoubtedly, the whole globe is faced with uncharted territory as the virus takes its aggressive course

across it. It feels somewhat like a constant waiting game; but what are we waiting for? To catch the illness?

For the government to tighten the restrictions? Or to loosen lock down? Whenever I hear the phrase ‘when

all this is over and everything is back to normal’ I can’t help but doubt whether the speaker, their family

members, myself, my own family and friends would be here, and well. I struggle to see an end-point while

the whole world is rapidly descending into chaos. Businesses are collapsing and economies are falling

beyond their lowest point on record.

Perhaps this is a pessimistic outlook, but that’s how I view reality at the moment. I wondered what our

‘normal’ would be ‘once all this is over’. Will we become so accustomed to avoiding social contact that we

all turn to isolated hermits? Will companies conclude that it is much more economical for their workers to

work from home, and decide to close offices, saving their running costs, as well as employees commuting

to and from work every day? Or, more hopefully, would we become more appreciative of the little things in

life? The coffee shop coffee and chatter, the visits to our grandparents, the hug from a friend, the lunch

break with a colleague, the appointment at the salon, all the things we take for granted in our fast -paced,

modern, consumeristic society.

I hope this will be the case and am sure it is doing the world and society good to a certain extent. Pushing

the negativities to the back of my mind, I have started to look at the positive facets of the situation:

✓ There had already been huge reductions in pollution worldwide. Without tail boats constantly

spitting fuel into Venice canals to transport tourists, the water is clear for the first time in decades.

✓ There has been a huge drop in the levels of nitrogen dioxide in the atmosphere in China, and global

emissions have plummeted as planes are grounded and there’s less cars on the road.

✓ It is slowing the pace of live, allowing people to appreciate time with family as they are forced to

commune with the humans they live with, those ships we usually pass at the porch when one shift is

finishing and one is starting, or on the stairs when one is heading to shower after a spurs of

exercise and the other to the kitchen for dinner.

✓ It is allowing us to long for the little joys of life instead of taking them for granted.

✓ It is gifting us time to do the things we’d usually push off until we have more time in our schedule.

Time to:

▫ work on a creative skill that we’ve always wanted to improve but never had the time to in the

mania/storm of normal daily life and diurnal routine; life filled with work, exercise and ‘to do’ lists.

▫ try our hand at cooking the recipes that we’ve saved for a rainy day.

▫ do the chores and DIY we’ve always been meaning to.

▫ spend time organising and tidying after ourselves instead of incessantly rushing around.

▫ invest time in self-care, meditating, cleansing, moisturising.

▫ forget the time or the day of the week.

▫ enjoy a mid-week alcoholic beverage simply because we fancy it.

▫ appreciate time instead of rushing around in the storm of daily and weekly routine.

The nation is pulling together to support and commend NHS workers. Families have painted rainbows in

their windows as a sign of hope, and handcrafted signs thanking the NHS. Every Thursday evening at 8pm

the nation goes out on their doorsteps to applaud NHS workers. People cheer, clap and bang pots ’n’ pans,

bringing the empty streets alive. Although, by some, this is considered counteractive if one recognises the

built-up country in which we live, where most people’s doorsteps are joined to their neighbour’s. So, the

supposed act of appreciation is essentially encouraging a weekly mass gathering in the streets. Albeit,

Design and Technology departments in schools are using their machines to produce protective equipment

for key workers. Likewise, factories that usually manufacture ‘non-essential’ goods have paused production

and put their machinery to the same use. Community enthusiasts are delivering meals to the vulnerable

and goody bags to frontline staff. This myriad of small touches pulls Britain together at the seams. So, while

the virus is causing social and economic uproar it is simultaneously doing good for the environment and

national community spirit.

* * *

On day four of the British national lock down, Friday 27th March, my older sister mentioned over breakfast

that her workplace - a residential care home for the elderly, specialising in dementia - were looking for

someone to take on a ‘domestic role’ during these tough and demanding times. Being young, healthy and

able, I jumped at the opportunity of work. Something to do with my time as well as money in the bank, while

helping in the current crisis. The hours were perfect too: Monday to Friday 9:30am to 2:30pm. A quick

phone call to her boss and the job was mine. I went in that afternoon with personal identification, a bank

letter, and all other documents required when starting a new job. Immediately a DBS check was sent for,

returning within a week. And so, it began, my time in lock down as a frontline worker….

May 2020

Friday 8th May 2020: VE Day 75th Anniversary

A glorious day. The scorching sun is shining, the day is bright. People set up chairs on the street outside

their homes to celebrate with neighbours from a distance. Some streets have organised a quiz or bingo, led

by community enthusiasts. Others celebrate with traditional afternoon tea in the sun, filling up on scones,

sandwiches cupcakes, tea and Eton mess. Waving Union Jacks in memory of those who fought for our

freedom all those years ago.

The wartime atmosphere resonates with the current social climate. We are currently living through a global

pandemic. A new normality is emerging. The importance of national union is rising. It is becoming a

necessity in keeping spirits high throughout our country. Once all this is over, and hopefully some snippets

of what we consider normality return, one can hope that there will be a day as bright as this. One that will

imprint history, to remember all those affected by the Covid-19 nightmare. One that will secure its self in

history’s palm to mark the end of a miserable epoch.

Monday 11th May 2020

As the day pass,

Rules are relaxed.

The first wave is dying down,

A second is in its dawn.

The English must stay alert,

While the Welsh must stay at home.

We must not leap ahead of ourselves,

Normality must remain on the shelf.

We must still protect our elders,

They were our freedom fighters.

We must protect our nation,

It’s our only destination.

A few more weeks won’t hurt,

The virus is still alert.

We must not give up yet,

Covid is still a vicious threat.

Saturday 16th May 2020

This week I have heard of more local suicide deaths than local corona virus deaths, and I am beginning to

wonder whether this pandemic has been merely an exaggeration. It is becoming evident that the lock down

has, in fact, had a more detrimental than positive affect on the nation as a whole, mentally and

economically.

Many, many adults, with dependent children and families, have been forced off work, with cut or no pay, for

too long now. Many are going to struggle to keep themselves financially afloat for many months to come.

While others will skim the surface, by sacrificing the niceties that make their lives of a quality worth living.

No hard worker wants to work just to get by, they work for the extras in life: the indulgent holidays and

weekends away, the time off to enjoy with family and friends without counting every penny spent, the nights

and days out, the drink at the pub, the meal at a nice restaurant as opposed to dingy meals out of

Tupperware. Inevitably, everything comes at a cost. Also, without these recreations many employees’ in the

leisure industry wages wouldn’t be paid, many businesses wouldn’t survive, suppliers will be at a loss, and

this will undoubtedly have a domino effect hitting many fragments of the national economy.

It is plainly starting to show just how much our Government and local councils, those at the head of national

decisions, support themselves at the cost of others. My father, a hard-working self-employed bricklayer who

has but two weeks off per year; who, admittedly, makes a well-earned fortune to support his large family;

who paid above twenty-thousand-pound tax last year, is not entitled to claim a single penny from the

Government during this crisis. Whereas, my mother, employed by the council as a primary school

secretary, who already gets twelve weeks paid holiday per year, is getting overtime pay on top of her full

salary to go into work one day a week.

Things must start moving soon. People must start earning money again. The economy must revive. Life

must go on.

June 2020

8th June

I have been working at the care home for two months now, where my time has been a rollercoaster. The

enemy has been and gone, taking with it six residents. At least that’s what we assume, for only two of them

were tested and confirmed positive with the virus, the rest remain unknown. At the time (this was over three

months ago now), the home was only offered three tests for residents; two positive, one negative. One of

the four unknown was admitted to hospital days before his death, the others died in the home.

Albeit, to shine a little light in this cavern, possibly twenty-six of them won their fight. Although they were

never tested, the majority of them battled the symptoms – it was coughing galore, high temperatures and

diarrhoea all round. They were physically weak, some so weak they couldn’t walk. They were immensely

tired; some slept the days away. This wasn’t helped by the fact that many of them also refused to eat or

drink, even when the doctors ordered that hydration was pivotal. They were like stubborn toddlers, turning

their noses up at spoonfuls of food and cups of water. There was no hope of keeping their strength up.

It is true that the human body ages in a cycle. Through life we travel the circumference of a circle. We start

a reliant baby, we start to learn, we grow up, become an adult, gain responsibilities, but never stop

learning; then when we have served our time on this crazy planet and it all gets a bit much, we grow young

again, in need of care and assistance. We can only hope that we keep our wisdom until the grave, if not

caught by some vicious illness, dementia and the like.

However, I must admit, I am somewhat amazed, and also confused, how these old ‘vulnerable’ residents

battled the virus, considering how it was being portrayed in the media.

This dark patch struck on my second week of work, was not quite what I was expecting. Foolishly I

assumed I'd be working in one of the safest places. There were no random people coming back and for,

only staff, who were warned to be extra cautious with regards to their where-a-bouts outside of work. It

wasn’t like a supermarket job where workers are encountering thousands of random people throughout the

day. Plus, my sister was working there; so, if Covid was there, undoubtedly, she’d bring it home to me. Did

it really make a difference if I spent five hours a day there too?

How wrong I was. My perception of a care home being one of the safest workplaces at the time soon

changed as the news flooded with headlines and stories about them being Corona-hotspots. Soon we were

face-to-face with the unseen enemy.

During this time, we took extreme precaution. Residents were to isolate in their bedrooms, driven raving

mad within the confines of four walls. Staff were to change PPE, including a disposable plastic apron, face

mask and vinyl gloves, every time they exited a room, disposing of their used PPE in allocated bins at

every door. We were to wear plastic visors which also had to be anti-backed after leaving a room. Wearing

all this equipment for several hours was stifling. I practically bathed in my own sweat all day. We even tried

a day wearing full boiler suits but were then advised by a nurse that these were not effective. They might

have blocked the virus from landing on our own personal clothes, but they did not prevent it being carried

from room to room around the home – changing them after every doorway was simply impractical. My

parents left a carrier bag for our clothes, which would be immediately put in the wash, and a towel for us to

shower at the front door when my sister and I returned home from work.

By Wednesday 22nd April I had reached my limit of toilet scrubbing and floor mopping. Nervously, I

decided to hand in my one-week notice, explaining that the domestic job was simply not for me. The

manager was understanding and I expected to be finishing the following Friday. However, two days later,

as I was mopping the floor of a bedroom at the end of the corridor, my sister – who was supervising at the

time – approached, by order to of the manager, to offer me a different position in the home. This position

was activities. I hesitated for a moment, thinking over what this meant. I’d come in Monday to Friday to

paint, play games, do crafts, paint nails, chat with and generally keep the residents entertained. How bad

could it be, I thought and accepted.

To anyone with no experience of working in a care home (myself just a few weeks before), this job would

sound easy. More of a pass-time than something one should be paid for. It is not until you are in that

environment, day-in-day-out, with the responsibility of keeping these absent-minded residents occupied,

that you realise how draining it can be.

* * *

During my time at the care home I have been warmed by compliments from old ladies. Obviously, they

understand how important appraisal of appearance is to a young girl. I have felt accomplished when

residents have shown interest in tasks, I have set them, and enjoyed telling them stories about my life while

listening to much more interesting ones from theirs – or the fragmented parts that they remember of them.

It is inevitably a rewarding job that I never imagined myself in. After all, my forte in the workplace was

serving hot beverages not attending to the old and demented.

When I first started, I felt totally out of my comfort zone. I didn’t know how to deal with these ailing

residents. If I’m honest, I was scared of them. When my sister first took me into the communal lounge and

introduced me as her sister to a posy of glum-looking women slumped in high-back chairs, I felt like I was

walking out onto a New York catwalk under the judgmental eye of thousands of fashion critics. Six sets of

glaring unresponsive eyes stared at me, as if to say ‘So what?’. The reality was that they simply didn’t

grasp what my sister had said - the face mask didn’t help as this muffled her voice.

But in a short spell of time I settled in. I learnt that it was only a matter of encouraging simple conversation

and they’d know you for a brief moment, then forget you the next. I soon began to enjoy their company.

Some of them made dry sarcastic comments that made me laugh. Some were so plainly innocent and

oblivious to the world around them, it made me smile. Lots of them were still caught up in the

responsibilities of daily life, insisting they must go to work, or to pick up the children. Many were set on

going home each day and spent hours wondering the corridors in search of the way out. It broke my heart

not being able to grant them autonomy, especially one lady who proved herself a gifted guilt-tripper. On the

contrary, others were happy to sit in their chair and go with the flow of the environment and people around

them, without a fuss or need for attention. It was easy to imagine the kind of people the residents were in

their younger days.

* * *

On Saturday 23rd May, the whole home, including all staff and residents, were swab tested for Covid. The

following Tuesday we received a phone call or text bearing our result. Personally, I was negative. Although

I did have a moment of panic when I got a call from NO CALLER ID, after hearing that positive results were

brought over the phone while negative results were sent my text.

Sadly, not everyone in the home was in the same boat. Two female residents whose bedrooms were next

door to each other, along with one member of night staff, were positive, thus action was taken. The

residents were strictly isolated in their rooms for a fortnight, and cover was found for the member of staff’s

shifts over the two weeks while she isolated at home. Strangely neither residents showed any symptoms

while the young staff member said she felt utterly drained and achy. It really was unpredictable; this Covid

recklessly picked its victims at random, with no explanation for its course.

We thought we had battled through, we thought we had destroyed the Covid microbes. But, to our horror, it

looks like there is a second wave surging in this unprecedented ocean.