The big autumn wet (most March rain since 1929 – and that fell in the first few days) ended and a longer period of warm sunny days came in. I went to bed, the smell of new cut grass and lavender stealing in the open window and the long stems of the rose bushes – almost up to the eaves – tapping against the house in the night air. The night was mild and I pushed down one blanket.
It must have been well after midnight when I woke. I pulled up the other blanket. Near dawn, I woke again. This time I was cold, so I got out of bed and put on a warm top. In the morning I dressed warmer than the temperature – 26 celsius – warranted. I felt like I wasn't there. I felt weak. The day passed in a kind of surreal light as if I was watching it but not in it.
That night was cooler but this time, towards morning, I threw the blankets off. I wasn't cold any more. I was hot. I sweated. That day I stayed home.
The doctor had two questions:
- Have you been overseas?
- No. Not ever.
- Not ever?
- Correct. Life got in the way.
- Never mind. It's all ahead of you, when the airlines fly again. If they fly again. Have you been in contact with anyone with the virus?
- How would I know? I've been to about seven crowded supermarkets looking unsuccessfully for a number of items necessary for the effective functioning of life in a civilised society such as hygiene; so who knows who I've been in contact with?
- No. I meant that you know has the virus.
- Then no.
OK, that was three questions but the middle one was just conversation. He continued:
- Then no test.
- No test?
- No.
- Then how would I know?
- You don't and you won't. The test is for people who have a higher likelihood of getting the virus, and the criteria are you have been overseas or you have had contact with someone with the virus already. So go home.
- Do I (to use as ugly a piece of jargon as 'social distancing') self-isolate?
- No. You already said you've been hanging around supermarkets too much so what would be the point?
The next day, the third, I was a well man again, well enough to face up to coffee. That is always a sign. You are sick when you can't face a strong coffee.
*
Everything was cancelled. Football training, athletics, the cricket awards night, girl guides. The lot. Society stopped in its tracks. Isolationism is the new mantra, despite doc's suggestion. Bureaucrats said 'don't panic' (as if they had to spend half a day visiting multiple supermarkets to obtain supplies for their children.) Then they – or at least the prime minister, which is the same thing, as bureaucrats write his speeches and he just reads them with a kind of deprecating smirk – said this could last six months. That other idiot, the Victorian chief health officer, last week said 'don't panic, but stock up for a fortnight just in case'. That sent them out in their millions hunting down supplies. He's an idiot not for his medical expertise which I am sure is adequate but for the sheer stupidity of that statement.
On Tuesday evening when normally the thump and cry of football training would echo across Raeburn reserve and the two boys would work up teenage appetites, I took them and their sister instead to Williamstown beach where they waded in the still silvery water under an overcast sky and a blanket of heavy humid air. The sun sank, and out on the water, a cruise ship sat shiftily, as if waiting. Another was closer in. They looked like Chandler's the Royal Crown and the Montecito from Farewell My Lovely, but they were far deadlier. They were waiting to dock at Station Pier with their noxious payload.
It must have been well after midnight when I woke. I pulled up the other blanket. Near dawn, I woke again. This time I was cold, so I got out of bed and put on a warm top. In the morning I dressed warmer than the temperature – 26 celsius – warranted. I felt like I wasn't there. I felt weak. The day passed in a kind of surreal light as if I was watching it but not in it.
That night was cooler but this time, towards morning, I threw the blankets off. I wasn't cold any more. I was hot. I sweated. That day I stayed home.
The doctor had two questions:
- Have you been overseas?
- No. Not ever.
- Not ever?
- Correct. Life got in the way.
- Never mind. It's all ahead of you, when the airlines fly again. If they fly again. Have you been in contact with anyone with the virus?
- How would I know? I've been to about seven crowded supermarkets looking unsuccessfully for a number of items necessary for the effective functioning of life in a civilised society such as hygiene; so who knows who I've been in contact with?
- No. I meant that you know has the virus.
- Then no.
OK, that was three questions but the middle one was just conversation. He continued:
- Then no test.
- No test?
- No.
- Then how would I know?
- You don't and you won't. The test is for people who have a higher likelihood of getting the virus, and the criteria are you have been overseas or you have had contact with someone with the virus already. So go home.
- Do I (to use as ugly a piece of jargon as 'social distancing') self-isolate?
- No. You already said you've been hanging around supermarkets too much so what would be the point?
The next day, the third, I was a well man again, well enough to face up to coffee. That is always a sign. You are sick when you can't face a strong coffee.
*
Everything was cancelled. Football training, athletics, the cricket awards night, girl guides. The lot. Society stopped in its tracks. Isolationism is the new mantra, despite doc's suggestion. Bureaucrats said 'don't panic' (as if they had to spend half a day visiting multiple supermarkets to obtain supplies for their children.) Then they – or at least the prime minister, which is the same thing, as bureaucrats write his speeches and he just reads them with a kind of deprecating smirk – said this could last six months. That other idiot, the Victorian chief health officer, last week said 'don't panic, but stock up for a fortnight just in case'. That sent them out in their millions hunting down supplies. He's an idiot not for his medical expertise which I am sure is adequate but for the sheer stupidity of that statement.
On Tuesday evening when normally the thump and cry of football training would echo across Raeburn reserve and the two boys would work up teenage appetites, I took them and their sister instead to Williamstown beach where they waded in the still silvery water under an overcast sky and a blanket of heavy humid air. The sun sank, and out on the water, a cruise ship sat shiftily, as if waiting. Another was closer in. They looked like Chandler's the Royal Crown and the Montecito from Farewell My Lovely, but they were far deadlier. They were waiting to dock at Station Pier with their noxious payload.
Oh dear. Sorry you were ill but I'm glad you are better. Do you have any stories of recipes you made up from scavenging the cupboards? Things in Los Angeles are pretty insane. They have even closed the hiking trails.
ReplyDeleteI will try to post on my experiences. I am well. Mainly I am concerned about my parents. My father just got out of hospital after a week's stay but fortunately he is looking better.