Covid 19 26/03/2020

Where do I begin?

I've been mute.  This virus has shut me up.  The rage that usually fuels my outbursts is clouded by fear. Partly down to fear of the unkown from the virus; this microorganism that is spreading among us. The virus is spreading fear in such a way that we can't see it or smell it or really understand it  but deeper than fear of the virus itself is fear of my potential for complicity in bad decisions.  I don't trust decision-makers at a time like this.  I don't understand the nature of that fear.  I don't know if distrust is rational or grounded in truth and experience.  Past experience tells me that those in power serve to protect their power and this clouds their vision such that they don't see the human impact of thier policies and decisions.

This virus is a rather abstract thing but I think it's the cause of this stomach churning nausea I've been getting for the past couple of weeks, as well as sore throat days, and runny nose days and days when I'm popping pills to ignore the headaches.  On those days there's pay back at nights with vivid dreams that then continue to haunt me during the next day.  The image of this virus used by media makes the deadly organism rather pretty. It shows a red floaty orb with trippy mushroom like obtrusions on its outer surface. It's an intriguing image and looks like it could be used as a model for a christmas tree decoration.  It's a wonderful wee organism and it lives in human tissue.  It gets transferred from one person on to the next through snot, saliva, blood, sweat and tears - do we even know?

Last week, as a routine activity in my job, I was swimming with SEN child.  The child is classified as having profound and multiple learning difficulties; he's also a lively, sociable, engaging and sometimes stroppy 12 year old.  In his swimming session I supported hiim by keeping his head above water as he's a 'nil by mouth' student. I had his head resting on my shoulder and my arms around his chest and we kicked around in the pool together and he coughed occasionally, that was OK, he always coughs because he doesn't have the muscle control or the strength to ever get the mucus off his chest. It was the first time I'd taken this particular child swimming.  I was pleased that he trusted me. I knew he trusted me by the intense look in his eyes. It's a look he does when he's really choosing to communicate.  He was gurrgling happily for me while we hoisted him in and out of the water and rubbed dry his stiff limbs before getting him dressed and back to class. I sensed trust in that smile he gave me with his eyes. I'd felt encouraged by his communication, it was great feedback. We'd had a good session. It's often meaningful and enjoyable work.

I travel to work on public transport.  I take the 7.24 am from Wivenhoe Station.  Waiting on the platform on cold winter mornings like this morning I can look down the long line of people waiting to board the train and see little clouds of exhaled air.  I'm seeing moisture condensing as it leaves warm bodies and is set adrift in the cold morning air.  We board the train when it pulls up at the station. It's warm in the carraige so people take off their coats and arrange themselves for their journey to work.  I like to sit by the window and where I can look out at the estuary and enjoy the relative peace and quiet before the train gets more crowded futher down the line to London.  By the time it gets to Chelmsford there is standing room only.  Chelmsford is my stop and it's a busy station. As I get off the train I'm mindful that I might bash into someone or catch them with my bag as I'm reaching into it for my pass to tap out at the barrier.  We line up at the barrier and tap out one behind the other as the cheery guy at the exit says good morning to each and every passenger as they pass through the barrier on their way out of the station.

I walk past rough sleepers under the railway bridge. They often have a hot drink or a half eaten carton of chips by their bedside. I'm saddened by society every day I walk past people sleeping on the streets but I walk on.  The next point in my journey to work is the pedestrian crossing at a road junction.  I've usually caught up with hoards of children heading on their way to the nearby schools.  We wait, huddled together, on the narrow pavement.  On that narrow pavement there's lots of banter, often someone coughs, another sneezes, mouths are opening and closing, hands on cereal bars and mobile phones and on and off the button that will stop the traffic and turn on the green symbol telling us it's safe to cross the road.  This is my commute to work to a SEN school.  Last Friday it was announced that schools were to close and public exams were being cancelled. SEN schools were to remain open to protect vulnerable children so I continue to go to work. Work that involves personal care routines and unavoidable close contact with other staff and students.

It's confusing.  The Government is telling everybody to stay at home.  There are police on the streets to force people to comply. But I must go to work. There is no plan to test workers in education, no  hand sanitiser, and there have been no precautionary measures. Now however, it has been announced that the swimming pool and gym areas are closed and a deep clean is scheduled for April.

On Monday I went to work.  We're now on a 2-day on; 2-day off rota.  Tomorrow I'm scheduled to go to work.  Today I'm not feeling well.  What is this heavy chesty feeling I have today?  Was that sore throat I had on Friday and Saturday real or was I making it up?  I don't have much energy today.  I'm still in bed and undressed. I needed a mid morning lie down today.  Am I ill? Or is this just the fear expressing itself? Have I caught the virus and spread it around?  How are those students that won't be coming in to college for 12 weeks? I think about them often.  On Friday, after the students had left, I found myself with a colleague outside on the grassy bank trying to realise the situation; she said, "I know I've said good-bye to some for the last time".  I wasn't sure what she meant. She clarified the situation; "it's very likely that some of my students will die during this pandemic". 

I want to stay at home.  I don't want to be a key worker and to be spreading the virus.  But this is the first stable job I've had for years.  My first job ever with a healthcare plan (I got £50 for a new pair of glasses) and it pays pension contributions.  It's minimum wage - below the real living wage - far from comfortable income but it's meaningful work and I need a job.  I want to cry and my chest feels tight.  Does my chest feel tight because I'm sick? Or is it anxiety?   How's that student? Is my colleague with Asthma OK today?  I had a sore throat on Friday and Saturday and Sunday.  Monday and Tuesday a runny nose.

What the hell is going on?