After a while you simply lose track. And you wake up and realise that this is the new normal. That everyone has adapted. That going out, you automatically stand 2m away from others. That your « Bonjour » consists of a nod and not the bisous (the kisses) or a handshake. That your supermarket operators dress in gowns and masks and have a large plastic screen in front of you. That you play online games, read, video call and look forward to online parties.
So working from home like the rest of y’all now for two days. Realised I was actually quite lucky to be able to go in to work and have social contact. Now I’m by myself locked up with a cat.
Seen some great ideas online – online book readings, online ukelele groups.
Dreaming up things to do during lockdown when you’re on your own:
1. Join in the clapping-on-the-balcony at 8pm for the healthcare workers 2. Watch the sunset with someone via video-call 3. Watch the exact same movie with someone at the exact same time and text each other all the funny bits 4. Plan your post Covid Lockdown-Lifting Party 5. Do an online language conversation class.
Thank God we live in a time of internet. I can’t begin to imagine what it was like during the 1918 flu. Or the plague etc.
I continue to feel a bit average today. It’s easy to be a little too hypervigilant. Plus I may be a little dramatic at times. I convinced myself that I had shortness of breath and started to worry, shortening my breath even further. Then I reminded myself I had just run to catch a train, and this was the more likely explanation. But as the day progressed I started to feel like death warmed up. My head was killing me and I have a sore throat still. I was coughing. When I nearly coughed up a lung as well as my lunch in the bathroom, I decided that was it.
Fortunately we have a nurse at work so she took my temp, which was fine. But she gave me a couple of panadol, and sent me off because I was coughing. “C’est interdit” I was to consult a doctor via video. It’s possible I will have two weeks off. She handed me a mask and called a taxi. I rely on public transport here. Not at the moment apparently.
My first video-consultation. It really is clever. You book an appointment online with an available doctor – I still haven’t got around to getting a local one (big process). You put in your payment details then 10 minutes before your allotted time you click on the link to video call in.
After having brushed up on french medical vocabulary and how to pronounce coronavirus (coRRRONaVEErooss) in french, I furtively clicked the link. Did I have it? I feel hot. I feel dizzy. My nose is blocked. My head still hurts. I wondered if the thermometer might have been faulty. What if it hadn’t been calibrated recently?
The doctor came on and we exchanged the usual french pleasantries as if we’d just met at someone’s house for dinner. I described my symptoms. He tapped away on his computer. WHAT DO I HAVE???!!! Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. “Date of birth?” Frown. For the love of God, WHAT?!?. “OK, I give you some panadol, cough syrup and nose spray. Do you need some time off work? Take some time for the rest of the week.”
No wonder I feel dizzy, I’m still holding my breath. “Is it…is it…corrronaveerooss? “ in my best french accent. He smiled. SMILED. “No Madame. You have what’s called a cold.”
So I got the advice about what to do if I had a fever of 39 plus and severe shortness of breath. Then he very efficiently uploaded my prescription, payment receipt and a medical certificate to my account. And that was that.
