Masks or no masks? Advice on what to do this lockdown has changed as scientific knowledge develops. Photo / File
Masks or no masks? Advice on what to do this lockdown has changed as scientific knowledge develops. Photo / File
In April he lost his mother to Covid-19. She was the 18th Kiwi to lose their life to the virus. Now, as Auckland deals with a new round of cases and another lockdown, a grieving son looks at how we can make a difference.
In April, my mother passed away,the 18th person in New Zealand to die of Covid-19. The New Zealand Herald published a diary I wrote describing my mother's final few days and the brief visits I was fortunate to have with her in hospital. At midnight that same day, the country moved out of alert level 4 lockdown. My diary of that difficult and sad time ended with these words to describe the virus: We are beating it back, confident in our united effort. It is swinging hard and lethal in return and every victim is a cherished one, taken too soon.
Every day since, I have thought of the 22 New Zealanders who died; every day I am thankful that the number of cherished people taken remains so low.
Today, the World Health Organisation reports Covid cases worldwide total more than 22 million. The death toll is more than 797,000. The virus is still swinging hard, still lethal.
Here in Auckland, we are back in a new lockdown, less stringent than in April, but with the same goal and the same enemy. And we are supported all the way by every other New Zealander: a fruitcake, baked with love, arrived yesterday from a niece in Taranaki who, despite having her own concerns to deal with, knows the importance of individual action and human connection.
And this is the essential question I've struggled with since my own brief personal voyage through the eye of the pandemic storm: how does each of us chart a course through this? How do I act to make a difference?
Here in Lockdown 2.0, I have some thoughts.
I can trust that whoever governs us is doing all they can to protect us. I can also expect that mistakes will happen, regardless who is in charge, but that genuine efforts will be made to fix what is wrong.
I can remain hopeful that science and human ingenuity will succeed in finding ways for us to live more freely and safely in a world with this new coronavirus. I can maintain my patience when the advice on what to do changes - masks/no masks? - because scientific knowledge is always being shaped by new information.
Regardless of any new requirements, I can stick to the public health basics: wash hands thoroughly and regularly, cough or sneeze into your elbow; keep track of where you've been, stay home if you are sick. And I can in good conscience recommend these actions to others.
I will try to be kind to my worried self, and to everyone else too. We all have our concerns - our fragile livelihoods, our poorly family members, the disrupted education of our children. I will try to understand, too, the pressures that lead those few of us down the rabbit hole of conspiracy theories and misinformation.
Four months on, I recall clearly the anxiety I had putting on and taking off the protective gear when I visited my mother in hospital, and my fear that I would stuff it up and bring home deadly Covid-19 to my wife and family.
It didn't happen, but when several nurses who worked on the ward did become infected, my anxiety and fear turned to dread, a dread that is still with me when I think of how pernicious this virus is.
If I could channel this feeling of dread - if a genie would grant me one wish based on it - I would wish this: that all those working to protect us are given the time, resources and training to think and act only in ways that are safe for themselves. Their safety is our safety.
Our world has changed. Our hopes for it to be better have not. Our thoughtful human actions, those fruitcakes baked with love, will ease the pangs of fear and dread, nourishing us for the fight still to be won.
The author of this article did not wish to be identified.
