‘I BEGAN TO RESENT THE FREEDOM OF MY FRIENDS’
Back in March, roughly two million people were identified by the NHS as being ‘clinically extremely vulnerable’. They received a letter in the post instructing them to ‘shield’ – to stay home and minimise all but essential contact with others. A poll by the Office for National Statistics found that 35% of those shielding said their mental health had got worse during the pandemic, with women and those aged 50 to 59 among the shielders most likely to have suffered. Their circumstances were challenging for many reasons; those with long-term medical conditions are two to three times more likely to experience mental health problems than the general population in normal times. Consider, too, the loss of support networks, hobbies and exercise alongside a fear of the virus – 91% of those who lost their lives to Covid-19 had a pre-existing health condition – and this population continues to face a complex set of circumstances.
‘When the letter arrived in early April, tears rolled down my cheeks. I have stage two leukaemia; officially, that makes me ‘extremely vulnerable’, though I’ve never felt it. In that moment, standing in my kitchen wearing disposable latex gloves – official correspondence in one hand, disinfectant spray in the other – I felt like a prisoner in my own home.
I’ve always prided myself on being strong-willed and independent. At 25, I became the UK’S youngest female bank manager, before going on to work with global organisations such as the Department for International Development.
Even after being diagnosed in 2015, I threw myself back into my job, coaching businesses internationally. The leukaemia was chronic, meaning I’d likely live with it for many years. I was prescribed medication for the pain, with the understanding that I’d have chemotherapy once the cancer progressed.
I’d always coped with it pretty well, so the idea that a force more powerful than my own determination was now standing in my way was difficult to take. That sudden loss of agency felt devastating.
Almost overnight, upcoming jobs abroad were cancelled. Neighbours started picking up my food and medication and my 23-year-old son moved out.
Even my partner Simon posed a threat, and he moved to a separate area of the house. Like everyone, I watched the news and sought comfort in social media. But it only made me more aware of how powerless I’d become. When I began to resent the freedom of my friends – going on their walks and taking their weekly trips to the supermarket – I knew I was spiralling downwards.
The first time I felt the grey nothingness of depression was when I was in my late twenties, burnt out from my fast-paced banking job. The second time was a couple of years later when I was recovering from a break-up. So when my sleep became fitful and I lost my appetite, I knew I was on the verge once again, and I put a routine in place. Mornings were for painting, afternoons for the exercise bike – building some structure into my days helped me feel a little more in control.
It’s been six months now since that letter arrived. Like millions of others, I’ve been told that shielding has been paused. But it isn’t as simple as returning to my old life. In May, I noticed a persistent itch on my back next to my spine and, within a week, a 5cm-deep melanoma was being removed by a doctor. Stepping out of my safe enclave to go to the clinic was, in some respects, more terrifying than being diagnosed with cancer for a second time. I felt completely exposed, as though the virus was lurking around every corner. But I’m also grateful – I’d never have caught the cancer so early if shielding hadn’t forced me to slow down.
I’ve decided to continue broadly shielding until there’s a vaccine. I resent relying on others, and I hate that the world outside my door is a threat.
But depression often starts with a low sense of control, and knowing I’m taking steps to keep myself safe brings me comfort.’
-
For information and support, head to macmillan.org.uk