From day 0 to day 14
Stuff’s Brittney Deguara spent 14 days in a managed isolation facility. This is what it’s like.
For 14 days, I never saw any smiles, other than from loved ones on a phone screen. There were only eyes peering over face masks.
I was confined to a room 22 floors above Auckland city for my Covid-19 managed isolation. It was a lonely experience. I left the room three times. My mental health was cared for with regular calls home, and my time was occupied by Netflix, solitaire and work.
I found myself eagerly waiting for knocks at the door, when the staff would bring me food, or PPE-clad nurses would check my health.
Spots in MIQ have been in high demand since the system launched in August. I was lucky enough to nab one in March.
In preparation for isolation, I packed lightweight exercise equipment, a pack of cards, snacks and comfortable clothes. I even joined a Facebook group where people would share tips, tricks and words of endearment for getting through. But unless your preparation involves sitting for days at a time, not doing much, then it’s hard to truly be ready..
For those sitting at home wondering what it’s like, perhaps thinking complaints from returnees are unwarranted, here’s a rundown of what it’s really like in MIQ.
Day zero: Into the unknown
Technically it begins when you land in New Zealand – day zero, as it’s called. But the flight is where your isolation journey really starts.
Arriving to an almost empty Melbourne Airport, documents are checked and checked again. The check-in process with Air New Zealand, while smooth, was longer than normal as staff checked border and visa exemptions, and MIQ vouchers.
With just 37 people on the flight to Auckland, there was no buzz at the gate, the excitement of travelling internationally was dulled by the realisation we were heading into two weeks of forced solitude. The dutyfree shop was basically deserted, cashiers jumped at the chance to serve anyone who looked their way.
The only chatter overheard at the gate was between airline staff and two women discussing whether they were liable to pay for managed isolation – one was, one wasn’t.
The flight itself was a no-frills experience. The only obvious difference to pre-Covid travel was the prevalence of face masks.
Landing in Auckland, however, was very different.
A nervous feeling washed over me as we waited on board, while customs crew determined our destination. We were staying in Auckland so were escorted off the plane and taken to the first checkpoints – health and customs.
Nurses checked our temperature and asked about any symptoms. A blue band secured around my wrist would be my ticket to leave my room within the first few days as travellers from Australia aren’t required to undergo day zero testing. A passport check followed.
Next up was security and luggage collection. Our bags were sent through the X-ray and one-by-one we collected our luggage from the stationary carousel.
The customs experience after this was familiar – arrival cards were checked and declared items queried. All luggage was scanned again before we were pointed towards the exit. The last stop was with the MIQ allocation team – I was heading to Crowne Plaza Auckland.
A member of Auckland DHB’s wellness team came on the bus to explain the rules for our two-week forced holiday (if you can call it that). Meanwhile, our bags were unloaded and sanitised before being placed in rows by the entrance.
One by one we got off the bus and were greeted by New Zealand Defence Force (NZDF) staff, police officers, hotel staff and nurses. Friendly words of ‘‘welcome’’ and ‘‘how are you going?’’ were refreshing coming from what would otherwise be a daunting welcoming party.
I received a bag of disposable face masks – reusable masks weren’t allowed in the facility – and a menu from which to choose my meals for the next week. While waiting to check in, I watched as a hotel staffer meticulously cleaned the used clipboards following every use.
Check-in was quick and easy – I showed my passport, and was handed a welcome pack and reminded that I would be liable for the $3100 charge. I got my room key, pointed out my luggage, and made my way up to level 22.
The whole process was seamless, and while that was to be my last time outside for a while, I couldn’t wait to get into my room.
Day one to three: Adjusting to the new normal
The first three days in isolation were OK. For me, eight hours a day were filled with work – a welcome distraction from the great deal of nothing I would otherwise be doing.
Comfy hotel beds, views of the Sky Tower and room service thrice daily were things I would enjoy on a regular holiday.
The room I was allocated had two queen-sized beds, openable windows, a lounge chair, a desk and chair, a kettle and a fridge. It was basic, liveable.
To my surprise, the food wasn’t bad at all. Pancakes, porridge, chicken salad rolls, salads, butter chicken, and corned beef and vegetables were all on the menu.
While not all of it hit the mark, none of the food was completely inedible. I placed a supermarket order to fill any cravings gaps – wine and chocolate mostly – and ordered a few treats from nearby eateries through Uber Eats.
Milk, tea, coffee and fresh linen could be requested with a quick call to reception. All items were then left at your door, no-one ever entered the room. Dirty linen and rubbish were placed outside the door and collected regularly. This is also how laundry was collected and returned – returnees were allowed two free washes during their stay.
As I had travelled from Australia, a place deemed relatively low-risk with no pre-departure or day zero testing requirements, I was allowed to venture out of my room for scheduled walks from the day I arrived. Anxiety about contracting the virus stopped me from going out unnecessarily, but on day three I had to get my first routine test.
The test was very quick. The startling sight of six nurses wearing full PPE – I’m talking aprons, gloves, masks and face shields – was eased by music playing from a nearby phone.
The test was the regular nasopharyngeal PCR test that is conducted in the community. Masks were pulled off the nose and immediately replaced after the swab was taken. Results were returned via text the next day.
Eight hours a day were filled with work – a welcome distraction from the great deal of nothing I would otherwise be doing.
Day four to 12: Groundhog day
The period between tests was actually quite a blur, and I quickly lost track of the day.
The days became quite repetitive and were structured around meal times – breakfast was served between 7.30am and 8am, lunch would arrive around midday, and dinner around 7.30pm.
When I wasn’t working, I kept myself busy by playing continuous games of solitaire, watching movies, and listening to music.
Whenever I heard a noise outside my door, I would jump up thinking it was food arriving or my daily health check – the only [distanced] human interaction I experienced.
I ventured outside for the first time on day seven.
The scene was reminiscent of almost every zombie film. Almost a dozen of us walked aimlessly around two levels of a fenced-off car park. A small patch of uncovered area replenished my vitamin D levels, and was the perfect spot for two girls to play hopscotch.
The hour-long walking session was a shock to the system after doing only in-room YouTube pilates, yoga and cardio workouts. While it was nice to stretch my legs, Covidanxiety was too strong – I’ve heard reports of arrivals testing negative on day zero and three, and then positive on day 12.
We were escorted to and from the walking area, so we didn’t touch any shared surfaces, and only one bubble – or one person – at a time was allowed in the elevator.
Day 11 was, by far, the most difficult day. The anxiety over the remaining days and the hoops I needed to jump through before I was allowed to leave weighed heavily – I needed to test negative and pass a day 14 health check.
I only ever saw a handful of other returnees, though we never spoke, and I found myself looking forward to interacting with the nurse every day, but particularly on day 11.
I was lucky. I wasn’t travelling back to New Zealand to see a sick or dying loved one or to attend a funeral. I can only imagine how hard MIQ would be with that on the other side.
Throughout my stay I was regularly asked about my physical health, but not my mental well-being.
While there were helplines listed in the welcome pack, I felt this is one area that fell short. I understand it would be difficult to check in regularly with all returnees, but one or two calls over two weeks could make a world of difference.
Arrivals at other facilities reported having regular calls from the wellness team and even daily newsletters and puzzles delivered to their doors. At Crowne Plaza Auckland, there was nothing of the sort.
The test on day 12 was the same as day three. I was phoned and told to come down for the test, I masked up and rode the elevator down, lined up, and pinched my leg as a distraction while the nurse twirled the swab. Hand sanitiser was available at every step of the way, including in the elevators.
Day 13 to 14: The end is nigh
The last two days of my stay in managed isolation centred around waiting – waiting for my day 12 test result, waiting for the final health check, and waiting to check out.
My test results arrived on the morning of day 13, which was a relief. This was my ticket out of the facility.
The rest of the day was spent wasting as much time as possible packing, repacking, and watching anything and everything on Netflix.
The time of release coincides with when you landed in the country two weeks ago, but I requested, and was granted, early leave to catch a domestic flight home.
The check-out process was quite simple – I was to place my luggage outside the room for hotel staff to collect, a nurse would conduct a final health check, hand me a signed form, and I’d be given the all clear to leave.
When the time came, with my mask on, I went down to an empty reception and handed in my hotel key.
My health form was checked by the NZDF, my name was crossed off the list, and I was given a signed certificate proving I had successfully completed managed isolation.
Once my lift arrived, I handed my passport over for a final check and was escorted outside by a NZDF staffer who helped carry my bags. I was advised to carry the certificate with me for the next week, and call Healthline if I developed any symptoms.
Being outside never felt so good. After 14 days stuck in a hotel room, I was free to move about, breathe in fresh air without a mask, and return to normal.