Diary Excerpt 1 April 2020
I’m feeling sick to my stomach. The sun has set and the streets are empty just like they have been all day. I went skating earlier and it felt really good to exert myself, the sun was shining and I love the smell of spring. Everyone in my community is complying with the social distancing rules; I saw no police and see no need for them here. Tomorrow, the sun will set again and we’ll be one day closer to the end of lockdown. But from what I’ve seen I’m not sure if it will be safe for anyone to come out unless they’ve survived the virus or have received a vaccine. It doesn’t appear to matter how old or healthy you are. Anyone can die and just because your odds are slightly more in your favour, that’s no guarantee so I’ve been happily staying inside. We are the lucky ones. My best friend isn’t.
His dad was in the risk group but he works for the NHS. When he fell ill his boss ordered a test but there were none. The hospital still wouldn’t take him when he reached a temperature of 39.2. I just received a text to say that he’s on oxygen now with a full mask and all; possibly with a chest infection too so he’s being kept on a drip. My friend tells me that the doctor sounded scared. His step mum didn’t notice, but he did.
It’s all right he will pull through for sure, my friend says.
I go cold, I feel sick to my stomach. I keep staring at his text knowing that if I wait too long, he’ll know I’m also thinking the worst.
Yes. He’ll make it. I say.
We’ve said the same thing to each other for the last five days and I’m afraid that tomorrow we won’t be able to. But while his dad is dying, he himself seems to be following suit with just a five-day delay. If I’m scared – and I am absolutely terrified for him – I can only imagine how scared he is. Scared for his dad. Scared, not knowing if that will be him too in perhaps just a few days time.
We are the lucky ones. But if anyone deserves some luck it’s him. They say we’ll all be traumatised by the end of this but I don’t know how to survive trauma without him. You’re not allowed to die, is what we always tell each other. You’re not allowed to die Will.
In the background, I’ve been playing a live concert Avril Lavigne held at Roxy Theatre in 2007 and the line she’s singing right now as I’m writing this is, “Tomorrow it may change, it may be a better day.”
Update:
My friend’s conditioned worsened every day, while his Dad ended up hallucinating and was on a ventilator several times, walking the line between the living and dead. On the 7th of April, my friend’s temperature calmed down. On the news, they expressed worries over Boris Johnson. Two days ago on the 5th of March Johnson was taken to hospital. Sunday the fifth was the day I calculated my friend could have been taken to hospital and as a matter of fact, the prime minister was diagnosed with Covid-19 on the same day my friend developed his fever. Boris Johnson is the prime example of how someone’s condition can suddenly deteriorate between the fifth and twelfth day after showing the first symptoms.
My friend fully recovered and his Dad pulled through, though we don’t know when or if he’ll fully recover.