My last post had bemoaned my troubles with my knee. After a letter of appeal to the Local Commissioning Group my operation was approved. 2019 was ending with a positive. Second week of December I went into hospital and had my op. All terribly lovely. The NHS locally are using a local BUPA hospital for some procedures and I was a lucky one. Wow. Loveliness surrounded me. I came round from the op and my lovely surgeon came to see me. Yes, my operation had gone well. My knee had been tidied up but, I have grade 3 arthritis and need a knee replacement. Whoops. Elation to depression in one sentence. My joy with my excursion into private health continued on a positive note. The aftercare was great, especially the physio. I declined the offer of a knee replacement believing there would be time a plenty for that ‘big deal’. The surgeon was unhappy with my decision. we made a date to see each other again in 3 months when I had had time to realise how painful my knee still was. I wasn’t though. Well, in comparison to how much pain I had been in this was nothing. Okay. So my knee was painful, I couldn’t run but I could walk without limping or crying. I could live without constant analgesia.
In the news there had been talk of a virus in Wuhan, China. Apparently it had come from bats and pangolins into the human population. It was a coronavirus and was killing people. At the hospital there were polite notices asking that you inform staff if you have returned recently from China. It was obviously causing illness in China, some experts were warning about the risk of epidemic, of it spreading but we were all pretty complacent. We took our lead from our leaders. They didn’t seem concerned. Travel carried on. The rest is history. Pandemic and millions of deaths.
In our little world. We entered March and it was obvious that our comfortable existence was about to be disrupted. There was talk of lockdown, shielding, isolation. Social distancing, washing hands became part of everyday life. I was aware that the vulnerable in the village would need support so I started Village Aid. I approached one of the local churches for support, don’t even allow me to say what I now think of this particular ‘Christian’ group. In fact, as time went on I lost my faith in religion. I still consider myself a believer, but I certainly am not a supporter of organised religion. So disappointing. I had started a village society 3 years ago so I spoke to them and hit the ‘risk management wall’. Excuse my language but bo****ks. I did it. I designed and printed. With the support of the local sports association I was able to distribute leaflets for volunteers to post through every letterbox. Thankfully the Parish Council helped out with paper and printing. Email address, WhatsApp group, Facebook page, posters and we were off. By the time lockdown happened Village Aid was up and running, and still is.
Last week of March and Husband and I were unwell. Temperature, slight cough, complete loss of taste and smell. We have still not completely recovered. We thought we both had ‘long Covid’.
A Midwife's Muse 