Lessons from the pandemic: Dr Norman Swan’s year of challenges

Treasure your grandkids, see beauty in nature and sneeze into your elbow. It’s been a year of life lessons for the ABC’s resident medical reporter, both personally and professionally.

It’snot even two years since there was probably only one person in the whole wide world with what we now know is COVID-19. Not even two years, and it’s just over 18 months since it became clear we were facing a pandemic. I don’t know about you, but for the last 18 months, each day has felt like a week and each week like a month to me.

Some nights I sleep, some nights I don’t. And when I don’t, I do what I tell everyone else not to (first rule of medicine: do as I say, not as I do)

– I reach for the phone to scan the journals, latest data, international headlines and expert commentary. And yep, that’s me up all night – that screen glow has convinced my brain it’s daytime. Then I make it worse by looking at my calendar, knowing deep down it’s a complete waste of time. Regardless of the schedule, I learned early on that my day is at the whim of the pandemic. My new measure of the pandemic is when my phone runs out of battery. Some days it’s before lunch.

COVID has also delivered some unexpected skills. I’ve learned where in my lounge to perch my laptop for a TV cross, and that being in the studio is so much better. I was quite proud of the art behind me until, just before going to air on The Project one evening, Tommy Little asked what the f**k was that on my wall and was terribly cruel about my clever picture hanging. Oh and yes, I’ve learned that I have a thick skin. (Stuff Tommy Little.)

I’ve also discovered a new hightech use for a bath towel. A couple of days a week, I record the Coronacast program from home. It’s highly sophisticated, with all the advanced technology the ABC can afford: a FaceTime call with my co-host Tegan Taylor in Brisbane and our amazing producer Will Ockenden in Hobart; an old digital recorder with a leftover microphone; a Google Doc on the laptop; and a towel over my head to make it sound like a studio. One reason Coronacast is only 10 minutes long is that I’d die of carbon dioxide poisoning if it went any longer.

I’ve learned that teams and teamwork matter more than individual endeavour. I knew that already, but it’s really been reinforced by this pandemic. The magic sauce of Coronacast is the three

of us. Staff at the ABC have pulled together selflessly over this last year, working long hours, and I’m privileged to work with truly talented people on Radio National, ABC News and particularly on what’s become my second ABC home, 7.30.

I’ve learned little things, such as that not flying interstate for one-hour meetings opens up whole days of time in your life. That’s how I managed to write a book, So You Think You Know What’s Good for You?, while being at the busiest point of my career. Also, that it’s very easy to put on weight during a pandemic, but very hard to take it off. At my flabbiest I got down to only a couple of jackets and white shirts that still fitted.

I’ve come to understand some more significant things, too. We live in a nation where our natural tendency is to look after each other and think about the common good. It’s you who have controlled the pandemic in Australia. As one researcher who worked in Africa on Ebola told me early on, it’s communities who control pandemics, not governments. Most Australians naturally think of others and how our actions have an effect beyond us. It brings tears to my eyes when I think of how we came together and trusted that we’d get through.

And that goes hand in hand with … Having control over your destiny really matters.

I write a lot about this in my book, and how control is at the core of wellbeing. Many felt they’d lost that sense of control, especially in Victoria during the second wave last year. But we also saw assertion of control in action by Aboriginal communities who ran their response to COVID themselves. There was a lot at stake, especially as elders were at particular risk, and they managed magnificently with no spread.

I’ve learned what news outlets not to read and what it’s like to see a defamatory headline about yourself above the fold on the front page on a Saturday morning. (And I learned long ago that court is no place to seek redress.)

When someone comes up to me in the street or the supermarket with the look on their face that they know me, I’ve learned not to panic that I must have met them before and can’t recall their name. They’re someone who wants to say thank you, and after that move on.

Other things I’ve learned are:

• What it’s like to be defined as [Axios political reporter] Jonathan Swan’s father. I’m so proud of my son.

• To behave myself in public. Who knows who might tweet or Insta a picture of me sneezing anywhere else but into my elbow?

• That trust is not a commodity.

Trust has to be earned, and like many precious things, it’s fragile. Every single one of us at the ABC knows that well.

• The value of humility and admitting when you’ve got it wrong. This goes with trust. The story of COVID changes day by day, and what seems to be a fact one day might not be the next. The world doesn’t fall apart if you admit a mistake as soon as you realise it.

I’ve also learned that I can feel claustrophobic in this big, brown land at the same time as enjoying its most beautiful places. The late Peter Hunt, a geologist and pioneering environmental journalist who was a close colleague in RN’s science unit, used to say it’s important to get off the ‘plate’ (meaning the geological plate) on a regular basis. I miss being able to travel overseas, but at the same time I’ve discovered and rediscovered the beauty of Australia.

Finally, and perhaps most important of all, I’ve learned the ache of not seeing two of my children (excluding Zoom) for what will end up being two whole years … not to mention my American granddaughter, who will be well beyond her first birthday before

I can squeeze her tight.

“It brings tears to my eyes when I think of how we came together and trusted that we’d get through.”

So You Think You Know What’s Good for You? by Dr Norman Swan, Hachette, is on sale now.