Feeling the Coronavirus anxiety? We feel you, we are too over at Motherhood: The Real Deal. And so here’s the latest from our Coronavirus correspondent Dr Doolally on the daily battle with Coronavirus anxiety….
I can’t wait to look back and say…. oh my goodness do you remember when we all had Coronavirus?
I want to blink and it all go away. We all knew it was coming. I got the masks – the useless ones that breed bacteria.
I got the antibacterial wipes ready to attack my children and husband after every unauthorised ‘touch.’
I haven’t stockpiled but I’ve ensured I have a full bottle of Calpol and Ibuprofen (and antihistamine, and plasters, surgical spirit, witch hazel…..maybe a couple of tins of pears and lentils).
But we all know it’s not really enough
Here we are. At the mercy of a virus that jumps host to host, mutating and changing and challenging our very existence.
Is it wrong that part of me is absolutely fascinated at how it’s all played out so far. From a city in China just a couple of months ago to a global pandemic.
This wasn’t part of the plan, was it?
Humans aren’t supposed to fly, we would have been born with wings if we were. Yet the virus traveled in a number of days and here we are.
Waiting for lockdown.
Waiting for the symptoms.
My glands are up. I know I’ve brought it on myself. I’m desperately trying to channel the power of positive thinking. Willing my immune system to be ready and attack anything that comes in my wake.
But I’m low
I can literally feel the cortisol pumping through my veins. Some of my family are displaying flu-like symptoms and the NHS won’t test them because they don’t qualify.
I’m worried about them but they are okay at the moment and the best place for them is at home.
Unless things take a turn for the worse
We know the sensible thing is to not visit them and we won’t. I’m terrified I’ll become a carrier and infect the weak and vulnerable or discover I’m weak and vulnerable.
I’m going to take a vat of chicken soup to them at the weekend and leave it on the doorstep. That’s a proactive response. That’s helpful. That makes me feel better.
I watch the Coronavirus Worldometer figures creep up by the minute, wondering when I might make a statistic.
I’m worried that while the hospitals are busy managing the pneumonic plague infection…. what if one of my boys falls over and breaks his arm?
What would I do?
I’m worried that what if I know we need medical attention and I can’t get through to the doctor.
I needed a doctor yesterday as a matter of fact. I had a rather unfortunate accident with a Qtip and my ear canal. Oh, maybe that’s why my glands are up. It’s probably just a muscle pull from frantically trying to whack the Qtip out during my panic attack. It was totally normal at the walk-in clinic too. Here’s to hoping it will stay like that.
Coronavirus anxiety: I’m having my doubts and I’m worried
I’m worried about my babies needing antibiotics and not being able to get them.
I’m worried that my community will turn feral, volatile and desperate when they can’t get what they want when they want it.
I’m worried about the schools shutting with immediate effect and having to normalise some sort of homeschooling for my boy.
I’m worried that life will never be the same again.
But it will
And it will be a new kind of wonderful. I’m hopeful a global sense of appreciation for what we all have.
I can go to my kitchen, turn on the tap and get a fresh glass of drinking water. There are many millions who can’t do this and they will get coronavirus.
I can go online and order tins of soup I’ll never eat and fully intend to donate to a food bank if, when we break the back of this beast. There are many millions who don’t have access to power, let alone a computer to do an online shop.
I’m honest and can tell anyone who asks how I’m feeling that I feel scared.
Because I am. And that’s okay.
We have each other
Now’s the time to reach out and tell people you love them. Now’s the time to cull the negativity and focus only on the positive and hopeful things in your life.
Every day when I say goodbye to my wonderful husband, my heart aches because I can never 100% guarantee he will return safely to me. That’s a glimpse of what it’s like in my thoughts.
Each night he returns safe, it’s like Christmas.
Cherish that love, appreciate all you have.
Let’s take control of our Coronavirus anxiety and fear, and fight COVID-19 back to 2019 where it can stay forever.