CARE CHAOS
A dying lady doesn’t have any family left. I want to be with her
I finished the night shift at 7am. I go home, strip off and shower. It’s the same every morning. I don’t want to give the virus to my partner, but he’s more worried about me.
I miss my children. They are eight and 14 and I made the decision a couple of weeks ago to let them stay with their dad during lockdown.
It’s heartbreaking but I can’t put them at risk.
I try to sleep but I can’t. I wake up at 4pm and feel rotten.
When I go back to work, I am told three more members of staff have gone home to isolate.
I know the residents must have Covid-19. I have a panic attack. I’m struggling to breathe and I can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen in the coming weeks.
It’s not just me, either. A few of us who work here keep crying.
There’s still no word from Public Health on testing the three residents. The man who we had to get ready for bed yesterday has become incontinent.
We sit down to have a tea break and one
I’m meant to clock off at 7am but I stay on. One of the ladies is dying and doesn’t have any family so I want to be with her.
I feel so sorry for all the families affected.
Some can’t come at the end because they are scared or have other people to protect.
Some take the chance to say goodbye in masks, gloves and an apron. I feel so helpless.
It’s my day off, but I feel rough. I find out our manager has tested positive for coronavirus.
I also discover another female resident who fell ill has passed away... I spent hours sitting with her last night. I was only wearing a paper mask.
Sunday
I’m now really sick. It started with a headache, sneezing and vomiting but now I have
I call paramedics out because my chest is tight and my breathing is laboured. They arrive pretty quickly and reassure me that it’s normal with coronavirus but not to worry. I’m too sick to write any more.
Saturday, April 25
Tonight is my first shift back after being hit by Covid-19. I’ve isolated for seven days.
Before I start, I call the home to see how everyone is doing and find out that another six residents have died since I got sick.
I feel guilty because I haven’t been there for them at the end.
The man with Parkinson’s died yesterday and the one I helped dress for bed died this morning.
I’ve stopped watching the Government briefings on the TV. Whatever they say I know it’s not happening on the ground. They’ve done little to protect the elderly. When will it all end?
“There is a risk [of closures]. We will do everything we can to avoid that happening.”
Shooting Star Children’s Hospices in Surrey has already closed one of its homes and cut back respite care after seeing its funding halve.
Meanwhile, children’s hospice Noah’s Ark in Barnet, North London, faces losing £2million of the £3.5million it relies on from fundraising.
The hospice is a lifeline for many children, such as Eli Artemis-bloice, 14, who is brain damaged, has complex needs and cannot walk or talk.
Time at the centre has not only helped Eli’s development but it has given her parents, Michael and Sharon Artemis, some respite.
Dad Michael, 64, urged people to support their local hospices, describing them as “life-changing”.
Hospice UK says the number of end-of-life community visits have trebled as patients opt to spend their final days at home. But hospices can set rules for visitors that follow safety guidelines.
For Sylvia Anderson, 72, the compassion shown by staff at Alice House Hospice in Hartlepool, Co Durham, meant she could say goodbye to Reg, her husband of 16 years.
When lockdown started, she feared she would never see him again. But staff arranged video calls and for her to safely visit Reg, 79, before he lost his six-year battle with lung cancer on April 15.
Sylvia said: “It meant the world. The staff are angels.”