‘MY FRIENDS WILL MOVE ON, BUT I CAN’T’
I’LL STILL BE ON ZOOM WHILE THEY’RE AT THE PUB
It has been just over a month since I decided to selfisolate and protect myself against the threat of coronavirus and, like many others, I’m slowly but surely losing it.
I’m missing strange things: women wearing too much perfume on the Tube; running up the office escalators because the queue at Starbucks was longer than normal; pub lunches that turn into eighthour rendezvous. Life before coronavirus feels like a Hollywood movie – and I can’t wait to get back to it.
But I don’t know when that will happen.
As a type-1 diabetic, I am more susceptible to severe symptoms of coronavirus; and my body is more likely to confuse its blood sugar level while fighting the disease, which brings with it a host of problems. Like older people and others with underlying health conditions, I will remain vulnerable until someone finds a vaccine or a workable treatment for Covid-19.
Those are difficult words to write. When I hear about the possible lifting of restrictions, I know that soon I won’t be spending Saturday evenings with friends at our makeshift digital pub. And I won’t be distracting my nephew and niece with drawing games on family quiz night.
These things thrive because everyone participating is in the same lockdown boat. They won’t stand a chance when the rest of the country returns to “normality” (or something like it).
I’m worried all the virtual trips, dinner parties and brunch dates that I’ve planned for the coming months will be superseded by meetings in pubs, restaurants and cafés. And I won’t be there.
Anyone classed as vulnerable faces the impossible choice. Do we risk our careers and stay in isolation, or risk our lives for a shot at a job? Do we miss out on birthdays and weddings while the rest of our loved ones move forward? Must we burden our mental health so our physical health has a fighting chance?
To survive, it seems so. I’d give anything to go out dancing and drinking, and then spend my hangover barbecuing for my family. But I have to stay inside. Not for the many, but for me.
I’d give anything to go dancing or drinking