It’s Day 13/14 in self isolation here. I should be giddy with excitement at the thought of getting out of the house again and breaking free of the shackles of house arrest. But I don’t. For, where is there to go, what is there to do? I thought I would treat the family yesterday to some Chinese food but when I phoned our local takeaway the phone rang unanswered. I phoned two more…nothing. Society has ground to a halt.
The figures continue to escalate, to the point where they become surreal, almost meaningless. Over 1200 deaths in the United Kingdom now, another six in Northern Ireland. It’s scary, do I even want to step outside on Wednesday when I get the all clear? Any excursions will be for basic purposes; to buy food, collect prescriptions and brief exercise. I’m looking forward to running again, but other than that…I’m worried.
I worry about bringing the virus back into our home. As many of you know our eldest daughter Hannah has spina bifida and hydrocephalus. She also has asthma. She is vulnerable as is Fionnuala, her primary carer, who has Type 2 diabetes. Adam and Rebecca, our other two children, are fit and healthy but the slightest cough rings alarm bells. It’s hard not to be paranoid and obsessive when it’s your own kids. Ah…obsession, my old friend.
It’s so easy to be negative when all you see and hear is death and misery. It’s my default setting and I fight the urge of it snowballing and consuming me. I want this blog to be a beacon of hope and light. I have neglected it, too wrapped up in myself and my own selfish needs. We all have gifts and mine is writing. It’s my tool, my weapon. So I intend to wield it, via this medium, to help others and do what I can. That starts now, today.
Keep safe. Stay at home. Don’t give up hope.