Life in the lead-up to Lockdown
/A letter for my son
In January 2020, when you were just seven months old, I stayed overnight in hospital on New Years Day. I had a fever, nausea, and a splitting headache. Being on immunosuppressants, the doctors were worried I had an infection and my body was struggling to fight it. But I got better, and two days later, you got sick – projectile vomiting up milk everywhere. It turned out I’d had a stomach bug, just a simple virus, that had thrown my body into chaos.
Fast forward to February 2020. There’s a virus like the flu sweeping the globe. It’s mostly background noise, headlines in media that I try to glance over. But the noise starts to get louder, and I start to get worried. I’m always worried about my health, that’s the modus operandi of people with a chronic illness. I savour the times when I’m well, and I try not to worry. But I do.
March 2020. I’m back at work now, in my job in the healthcare sector. Everyone is frantic. Our projects are in disarray as we try to work out what’s a priority. I go home tired because I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m spending 1.5 hours on public transport a day, trying to avoid sick people, and then I’m being a mother to you. Your grandfather on your Dad’s side passes away, and we all say goodbye. But we hardly have time to comprehend it. Now, people are hording supplies from the supermarkets and there is no hand sanitizer to be found. Everyone wants goddam toilet paper and sanitiser. As someone falling in the immuno-compromised category and remembering that January hospital visit, I’m trying not to freak out.
There’s a lot of uncertainty for everyone, and it’s a relief when our government shares their response. Jacinda Ardern announces that those who are immuno-compromised, and over 70, need to stay at home. I have a moment of panic and make a large list of things we need to buy and do – flea treatment for Spock, batteries, oh my god, we have to fix the clothes dryer. These are the banalities of staying at home and not being able to go shopping. I don’t succumb to buying twenty cans of tinned tomatoes from the supermarket, because we’re determined not to horde food. So we buckle down at home, all three of us.
The next announcement is that everyone in New Zealand has to stay at home, so at least now everyone is in it together. I feel bad for people overseas whose governments don’t have a plan, who instead only have mixed messages and high death rates.
Flights cease, borders close. Overseas travel is just not important anymore, and it was just four months ago that we were travelling around Japan. Who knows when we’ll travel again? Perhaps we won’t even want to, because we’ll have a new perspective.
Even domestic travel isn’t happening. You’re a ten month old baby who can’t see his grandmother, your many Aunts, and playgroup friends. I’m working from home while spending time with you. I feel lucky to be able to do that, but it’s difficult, because your Dad is the official ‘stay at home parent’ now, and here I am, at home too. Roles are mixed, rules are relaxed. Friends I wouldn’t normally speak to on the phone are calling me, we’re having in depth heart to hearts. I’m sick of Facebook chats and social media memes. It’s great to hear people’s voices again.
In the mornings, I run around the lounge and do yoga with Adrienne while you grin at me, thinking it’s all for your entertainment. We’re not sure if you’re bored, so we’re going for three walks a day, circling the neighbourhood streets. I’m thinking about life in the golden age of knowing all your neighbours, when people lived and died in a three mile radius. I’m thinking about the Spanish Flu, the Plague; all the books I could be reading and the words I could be writing. A strange mix of floating thoughts and ideas. We smile at strangers out walking, talk to friends from a safe distance.
I wonder if you feel it; all this uncertainty and tension. There are people telling us we should chill, follow no routines; there are people saying this is the time to hustle and get shit done.
I have no idea what the world is going to look like for you. Things could all return to normal in a few months. Or, Covid-19 could completely change the fabric of our society and how we behave, in all kinds of ways. I hope many of our behaviours will change for the better.
Time will tell.
