Dad was the 49th person in New Zealand to test positive for Covid-19, kick starting my six-week crash course on how to live with (tolerate) your parents whilst infected with a potentially deadly virus.
If I were to sum up 2020 in one word it would be ‘frantic’ or ‘cheese-on-toast', it was treacherous, scary and overall slow but for me it was also precious. It was a period of time in my life I otherwise would not have spent with my hilarious, yet at times highly agitating, parents.
What follows here is my somewhat ‘Lockdown Diary’, funny at times and slightly triggering at others. I hope by sharing this I can contribute to the wider conversation of ‘Lockdown’ and how that looked and felt for different people which, in our case, was one confirmed positive, two probables and a dog that had no choice but to be there.
Day 1:
Picked mum and dad up from the airport. They look tired, groggy, the flight from the UK never gets any easier.
Mums already tried to hug me ten times. Not sure if this is allowed, keep telling her to stop and stay two feet away at all times. She’s developed a cough and in turn Dad has developed a sympathy cough. I'm already going mad.
Day 3:
Keep trying to call Healthline due to Mums cough and ability to hypotheticalise herself into a tizzy, they’re too busy – can't get through.
Dad rapidly displayed all signs of the virus in the space of an hour, to which they again disappeared, and he was able to mow the lawn. Mum has renamed the virus ‘Divorce-19’.
I have declared Happy hour to begin daily at 3pm.
Day 4:
Today we got tested for the virus due to dad developing more flu like symptoms overnight.
We had to call ahead, wait in the car for a doctor who came out dressed in full hazmat mania. The swab was grim, going up, up, up your nose. Dad said the clear out almost made him feel better.
We should hear back tomorrow, trying to stay positive and hoping this is a serious case of the man-flu. (The odds are high).
Day 6:
Community and Public health called this morning, dad has tested positive for Covid-19, I have tested negative. They didn't test mum; they suspect if dad has it, she more than likely does to.
They advised I will probably get it within the next few days, in what they casually labeled ‘The Covid Incubator’. Fun.
Mum frantically checks all of our temperatures every couple of hours. Turns out she’s had the cap on the thermometer the entire time so all results have been incorrect – relieved that we are not all cooking inside, worried that she is a trained nurse.
All house jobs are suspended until further notice.
Day 7:
Feeling shitty. Not literally although I’ve read that is a symptom of the virus.
Headache, body aches and all-round fogginess. Still haven’t been sleeping well - very wired. Dissatisfaction with life coming at a very bad time.
Mum’s chest sounds bad and dad is very lethargic. They’re coughing and spluttering all over the show, would be a miracle if I don’t have it.
Asked if I can photograph them, document our experience (a semi-ploy to help retain my sanity). They’re worried about being publicly outed for having the virus, think people would find us - turn on us, egg the house and heckle us off the property.
I think they’d be too scared to come within a ten-meter radius if I’m honest.
Day 9:
Another call from Community and Public health to scramble the brain.
Asking how our symptoms are, ‘just checking in’. I know they mean well, but Jesus! We keep getting told different things by different people, it's hard to know what we can and can't do, how we should or shouldn't feel.
I feel lousy. Not horrendous, not great. Not sure if it is the virus or if it’s my mind is playing tricks on me.
Dad’s symptoms have kind of plateaued, he is sitting on the couch looking suicidal with his sock and sandal combo 24/7. His body aches have gone but his throat and ears are hurting him. Tried to call through to the doctors to get him a prescription for some antibiotics? On hold for an hour, no luck.
I've turned my bedroom into an office, dining room and lounge in attempts to social distance myself from the virus, but mostly from my parents.
Mums swept the floor four times and made a pie. We each now have our own tea towel.
Day 13:
Freedom Day! Today is the day that we would have been freed from our two-week isolation having all gone to plan. Mum is celebrating? By making a quiche, which she keeps pronouncing as 'quin-cee' – I told her this is highly annoying and to please stop.
Dad got up, ate breakfast and went back to bed. He is now up again watching TV and ‘mellowing over life’. Mum told me he said he wished he was at home, she says that’s how you always feel when you’re not well isn’t it - you want your own bed.
My anxieties have mellowed to a strong 8/10. Mum keeps creating hypothetical scenarios which are more than likely never going to happen, I’ve told her I cannot partake in these conversations anymore and withdrawn myself from the equation (she’s always done this).
Neither can she sit still. I keep having to tell her to slow down so I can get an in-focus picture of her – which she doesn’t like, keeps saying she needs to put her face on.
Day 14:
Mum now comes into my room announcing ‘Permission to Speak?’. She just came in to read me our menu for the week which she has just constructed (due to the shopping arriving).
I suggested we have pizza on Saturday, she didn’t seem so keen on the idea. Thinks the pizza bases that I ordered are giant wraps for some form of sandwich making.
I’ve made an ‘Isolation Planner’. I will now wake up every morning at a reasonable time, get dressed, sit outside, do miscellaneous activities which hopefully dissolve mass hours of time. Watch no more than two hours of television a day, read my book before bed and NOT look at my phone within one hour of going to sleep.
Here’s to day 15.
Day 16:
Dad is on the mend! He’s now had two good days in a row. He gets up - socks and sandals – and stands at the kitchen table completing his jigsaw (which I refuse to touch because, Covid).
This seems to be a pattern; a run of good days can suddenly be met by a run of bad days. Community and Public Health have advised they are learning this is a common pattern of the virus. Regardless, we are hoping this is the turning point.
I've been trying to practice mindfulness with mum which I think is crucially important in times like these. I don't really know what I am talking about but I wear Birkenstocks and socks and pace around the garden so I've pretty much turned into a guru.
I am centred, present and liquored up.
Mum told me in a panic that Boris has been admitted to the ICU. I thought she was talking about someone she personally knows but she means Borris Johnson - the British Priminister. She suspects it could be a hoax but hopes that he will be alright regardless.
Dad ‘played out today’. Which in my family means he did some gardening. He has shaved his beard off in case it was harboring any germs. He looks older but younger.
He’s had two beers tonight to celebrate 'coming off the Covid-19'.
Hopefully Borris is feeling better tomorrow.
Day 19:
Today we got signed off – Released from quarantine so I did the sensible thing of driving straight to the closest Liquor store (as we have run out of wine), it was closed.
Nana Beth is on the phone. The Government have been sending them food parcel's due to granddad's terminal cancer diagnosis, she can’t get over how many tins of food they’ve been given or how big the truck is that delivers them.
Day 20:
Dad has announced that he will go home soon to give my sister and her family their house back. So, he has sent off some emails, hell knows who he sends them to.
Told him to stop being stupid. They can’t go home without seeing everyone properly, well they can’t go home at all right now!
I personally haven’t been feeling so great - life wise - these past few days. Feeling better today, sun was out and all that. I have sanded, painted, re-sanded and re-painted numerous forgotten furniture items in the garage, turns out sanding is quite the stress reliever.
My nephew has announced that he doesn’t like nana and grandad as they’re at his house and won’t let him visit. My sister explained it’s not their fault. He wants to know if Grandad is sleeping in his bed.
Day 21:
Mum and Dad have been out collecting sticks for a compost bin they’re building in the garden. I would imagine it would fill up quick and be very smelly, not sold on the idea.
Dad kept dropping his sticks along the beach, Mum said he’s not very good at this – this being, stick collecting.
Dad talks to the dog like she is child. Asks her if she needs a drink every 20 minutes. Mum says she must not be thirsty as she isn't replying and laughs to herself.
Mum has finally bought herself a sudoku book after banging on about wanting one for three weeks. She has succeeded with about two out of eleven, but has stated that some are not finished.
Mum has mapped out another week of ‘the menu’, which she has now pinned to the cork board in the kitchen. She’s even started to draft the menu for when my sister can finally return home although she has declared she’s not looking forward to cooking ‘that Vegetarian stuff’.
I've took to taking regular baths in the outside bath. Mum thinks I do the weirdest things to get away from them, which is a direct quote. But it still doesn’t get rid of them. They’re not quite understanding my attempts to self-isolate in self-isolation.
Day 23:
Only eight more full days until we know if Level-4 is lifted and we can dance in the streets with JOY.
Feeling optimistic I put on proper pants today and walked along the beach with mum and dad. Have realised that mum talks in the future (everything is hypothetical), dad talks in the past (very nostalgic). Makes for a very weird, surreal setting where you don’t know if you are coming or going, in 1995 or 2025.
Mum says she heard me snoring through the wall last night. I asked her if it was bad. She says it was kind of like dads snoring but softer - it was bad then.
Dad has re-potted my Mother-in-laws tongue (plant), crushed up some shells and put them around the bottom, he says it stops the soil from splashing up on to the leaves and keeps the plant hydrated for longer. He moves it outside, inside, outside, inside – throughout different periods of the day. They're both convinced that its grown two inches in the last week.
Day 24:
Dad is trying to work out if he should grow his beard back or not, me and Mum have voted in favor of the beard. He’s spent most of the evening trying to buy a guitar online. He couldn’t work out how to complete check out and has now accidentally ordered three.
Nana and grandad have been taking part in ‘Clap for Our Carer’s’ back in the UK. Nana uses a pan and wooden spoon, grandad quietly claps, she says he’s being coy.
Day 25:
25 Days into ‘No bra-solation' as I am now calling it.
I ventured out to the shops for the first time today. Lots of very creative protective clothing out there –one man was wearing pink exfoliating gloves; another had a full ventilator facemask on, made for a very entertaining first trip.
Got dad a sim card for his phone. He has brought along a selection of phones he’s collected over the years, one dating as far back as 2007. Couldn’t get the sim card into one of them. I’ve learnt that when he is stressed/ frustrated he says fuck or fucking between every second word, e.g. - ‘This fucking thing won’t fucking work for fuck's sake’.
Finally got the sim card into the phone but it’s not receiving signal. Suggested he
walks around the garden to see if that helps, so he went to the washing line and back. Phone is still not working and now he says he’s depressed and to make matters worse he has nearly drunk all of his beers.
Mum says he doesn’t need a phone anyway, no one is going to call him. I said he wants one so he can call us, she says she doesn’t want that because we won't be able to get rid of him, ‘Buzby’ as she calls him. She said maybe he wants a phone so he’s able to call his friends. I have no idea what is going on.
Every day at 5pm they put BBC Radio 2 on to listen to Jonny Walker. It’s their Sunday ritual back in the UK, to sit down on their deck, listen to Jonny Walker and have a drink. Mr Blue sky by The Electric Light Orchestra has just come on, Mum says it was her favorite song when she was courting Dad.
Jonny Walker has just informed us that the death toll in the UK has surpassed 10,000 people. Shit.
Day 28:
Dad’s learnt how to do a draft email, he’s said he’s seen the future.
However, he still insists on hand writing the email first in his note book. It then takes him roughly three hours to re-write this in his drafts. To which he can then later revisit and eventually, once perfected, send. I have no idea who he is emailing but it seems very important.
Mum has revealed that Rangiora got the nickname ‘Ran-goon’ as it used to be full of hooligans, I am doubtful of the reliability of this statement. She has also mixed all the cereal together in one container, I really don’t know how I feel about this.
I’m on my fifth gin and have decided to cut my own fringe - would not recommend.
Day 30:
Murder in the kitchen. Mum and dad both trying to make tea simultaneously.
Managed to convince Dad that each time you edit a draft email it sends it to the recipient to which he shit himself. He is now playing snooker on the iPad (Mums). Keeps yelling bastard. Don’t think he is winning.
Mums bought a tin foil tray for him to use to sort out his shells (for the plants), to stop him using the kitchen sieve. He ignored her so mum has made jacket potatoes in the tray. She’s still not succeeding at her sudokus but says it's because she is doing the hard ones.
Woody’s got worms, Suspectedly caught of the neighbors' kids. Lauren says that’s maybe why he’s been so thrutchy for the past week. Apparently, he is being a little devil. He bit Nicole on the leg, she said its lucky she had her dressing gown on for protection.
Apparently, he has to be the first one up in the morning, first one through the door, has his dip on a certain part of his plate etc, unless he loses the will to live (quite literally). He’s announced that he is not happy.
Day 31:
Mum and Dad have been helping the neighbor fix the fence in-between the two properties. Mum keeps calling her Maralyn when her name is Madeline. I've re-named mum and dad the chuckle brothers.
We hear about the lockdown tomorrow, if we are going to level 3. Lauren says she is coming home regardless. I’d be pretty happy to no longer be sleeping in Woody’s jungle gym bed.
Had Steak and Ale pie for tea, was rated as one of the top three meals by all of us. If there is one thing we have not been starved of delicious meals in lockdown, this was greatly agreed upon.
Dad says every day feels like a Sunday, and keeps singing some song – Cannot make out what the song is.
Day 32:
Death toll in the UK is now over 16,000. In New Zealand we are on 12. Mum is working out the math's to see what it would be if New Zealand had same population as UK. She’s ‘doing the figures’, as she likes to call it. She has not located the calculator on her iPad yet, she says it's stupid bloody thing anyway.
We find out this afternoon whether or not we are going down an alert level to level 3 – Dad says if they don’t then he’s going home. He’s very dramatic. Mum says its eerily quiet - I said that won't last if Woody does come home. All being well!
Have a bottle of wine in the fridge ready for either good or bad news. Also plan to have a bath, Face mask, hair mask, Just in preparation.
Mum keeps walking around the house vocally counting down to the announcement, followed by ‘Oh My God’.
Things I have learnt whilst being in Isolation:
1) Dad carries his backpack with him where ever he goes, it is usually empty.
2) Mum likes to rearrange the soaps in the house daily. (I mean, what’s better for moving germs around?).
3) Mum and dad think wi-fi, bluetooth, data and data roaming are the same thing.
4) If making soup always add a potato, two cloves of garlic and half your soul.
5) Do not drink and use social media.
6) The bin men will always turn up but your mum will always obsess over where they are.
7) Do not pump up your bike tyres without the supervision of your dad.
8) Mum and dad both have matching iPads although they both only use mum’s (it has scrabble on it).
9) You must have patience with your parents.
10) Mum refuses to waste food. She will instead give it to the dog as ‘tit bits’. I don’t know if I’d class half a chicken, left over veg and a loaf of bread as ‘tit bits’ but the dog is happy.
11) It is ok to be alone and I think I actually prefer it.
12) Cheese makes any meal better.
13) Mum is the Queen disturber of the internet. She continually knocks the modem with the vaccum cleaner then spends the following hour figuring out why it isnt working.
14) Dad believes that he can successfully nurture any plant cutting magically overnight.
15) Your Mum will always ask if you need to the toilet before you leave the house, regardless of your age.
16) Do not alter your bike seat without the supervision of your dad.
17) I definitely prefer to be alone.
18) Dad believes that golf courses should always stay open, even in times of a nationwide pandemic.
19) Mum holds her iPhone with two hands at all times.
20) How to do the cat and the cow pose (yoga). Surprisingly the cow pose doesn’t mean standing in the kitchen eating snacks.
21) When mum questions ‘should I or should I not have a glass of wine?’, she’s about to have a glass of wine.
